Ron Taylor

Wife on the prowl

CHAPTER ONE

Neil was still in the bathroom. She could see its light down the hall and she could hear him brushing his teeth. Melinda took a deep breath and studied herself in the mirror. Was it right? Was she perfect, for him? Oh, she hoped.

Her hair was loose and lustrous, framing an oval face with strongly chiseled features. Melinda shook her hair, delighting in the way it shimmered and fell into place around her face, onto her shoulders. She rarely wore makeup – her eyes were naturally dark, her lips and cheeks healthy pink – but the modest amount she'd just applied highlighted her features and made them, she hoped, irresistibly appealing.

"Please," she whispered softly, puckering her lips. They made a softly muted red bow, glossy in the bedroom's diffused light.

She turned, profiling before the mirror, and the effect was dramatic. At least, she hoped it was dramatic.

Melinda's negligee was a pale green silk, transparent as plastic cup, though the coloration kept it from being blatantly revealing. But the curves of her pink body showed through – the full high roundness of her tits, the thrust of her hips, the sleekness of her thighs. Facing the mirror, she could see how the clinging silk emphasized her tits, allowed the dark nipple pads to show. She stroked her palms across her breasts, loving the feel of the fabric against them, and her nipples began to erect, punching their outlines into the silk. It was a sexy gown, she was certain. It had cost her ninety dollars and she hoped the expenditure would prove worthwhile.

"Not bad for twenty-nine," she smiled at herself, and the Melinda in the mirror smiled too. It was a pretty smile – but was it pretty enough? Melinda threw back her shoulders, making her tits lift bravely. Alluring, she thought. Pretty isn't what you need.

She half closed her eyes, peering at herself through the slits, and she made her lips curl into an enigmatic smile. A smile that promised much, she thought critically. Oh, God, let it deliver too!

Melinda stole a peek out the door, just in time to see the bathroom light going out. She sucked in her breath, listening for the sound of Neil's feet down the hallway. In a moment he'd be here, ready for bed. And she…

He came into the bedroom, wearing the bottom half of his pajamas, and he stopped in the doorway. Melinda was lying gracefully on the bed, her legs stretching, and her body at a diagonal across the sheets. He couldn't get into bed without displacing her. Or accommodating her.

"Hello, darling," she said lightly, her heart beating like a blacksmith's anvil in her ears. "Are you ready for bed too?"

He nodded, taking a step toward her. "Uh, is that new?" he wondered, indicating the green negligee.

Melinda sat up, wishing this were an old fashioned bed, with a headboard she could prop herself against. But even as she rearranged herself, she made damned sure that her legs stretched across Neil's side of the marriage bed, reminding him that she was here, that she was available, that she… The aroma of perfume rose from the deep valley between her tits, and she drew fresh resolve from that heady fragrance.

"Come here," she said huskily, extending one hand toward her husband. He came closer but he didn't take her hand. He only stood there, looking at her. Melinda felt a lump in her throat and her vision seemed to blur. Was he rejecting the offer of her body too? He stood like a statue, only his eyes moving.

Melinda rose onto her knees and she leaned toward Neil. She felt the silk stretch tight across her breast and she knew that he could see her pink flesh through the green wisp of gown. Could he not smell the scent of her prepared body, too? Was he blind and deaf and sexless too? "Neil," she said. "Come to me. Touch me." And she seized his nearest, idle hand, drawing it to her breast. "Feel my nipple," she invited. "Feel how stiff it is? God, Neil, all of me is just as excited as that nipple! All of me wants you… now… here… oh, come here!"

He was a medium-tall man, athletically built, but he seemed pliable as jelly then. "Melinda…" he said as she pulled him onto the bed, as she twisted his face round so she could bruise it with the crushing, heated ferocity of her kisses. His fist tightened on her breast, and Melinda groaned into her husband's mouth as her nipple seemed to convulse against the heat of his palm, through the silky lasciviousness of her gown, and she felt her breast swelling, engorging, and hardening in his grip.

Ahhh, she thought in excitement, lying back. Neil moved with her but there was no enthusiasm. Her hand stroked up and down his back and she found only tension, reluctance. Damn you! She cursed silently, and her fingers stole beneath the waistband of his pajama pants.

She rubbed him, rubbed until she felt heat stirring in the cheeks of his ass, a moistness in the crack between those checks, and then she rubbed harder, Neil stirred, lifting one leg, and his mouth slipped from hers. "Honey," he said apologetically, "I don't think I can…"

"Don't think, don't talk!" she whispered, and her lips brushed a trail of licks and kisses down his neck, onto his chest. For a man of thirty he had precious little hair on his chest, she thought, just as her mouth homed in on one tiny nipple.

"Ohhhh…" He ovaled his mouth into a moan as Melinda began to lick and suck his erecting treat. Her lips pulled on his rubbery flesh, her teeth gnashed provocatively, as Neil's little tip stiffened in her mouth like a teeny, tiny cock.

A cock. Melinda's hand moved inside Neil's pajamas, switching attack from his rear to his front. If he had little hair on his chest, he had a forest of it in his groin, and she let her fingers slide teasingly through that forest, flirting with the root of his limp cock. Her fingers scissoring upon the base of Neil's pecker, squeezing the tool where it sprouted from his lower abdomen, sliding down around to tickle his nuts from above, and she made her mouth even more aggressive upon his extended nipple, praying that he'd show some response. Soon, God, soon! His prick felt so tiny and defenseless when it was limp. So tiny. So defenseless.

And so Goddamned fucking useless!

Melinda let her fingers slide down further, scissor-locking around the shaft of his prick. She tightened, loosened, tightened again, and panting as she fought to squeeze life into Neil's lazy pecker. He strained against her. "I don't think it's going to work," he said in a tight voice, his hand coming down to touch her. "Look, honey, I'm really knocked out. Why don't we just go to sleep and forget it?"

Melinda sniffed, catching the aroma of her sexy perfume. She looked down at her green silk negligee, the seductive gown she'd worn tonight specifically to seduce her husband. But how could you seduce a man whose cock wouldn't even stiffen for his perfumed, negligeed, seductive wife? And how did you know when a marriage was going sour, when divorce was inevitably waiting just around the bend?

Melinda pulled her hand out of Neil's pajamas.

She sat back, legs cutting beneath her, and she sighed heavily. Neil put his hand on her shoulder. "I've had a hard day," he told Melinda. "I'm just not in the mood."

She looked up, dark eyes flashing. "You're never in the mood lately! You work late almost every night. You come home, eat your supper, and fall into bed. Neil, what's happening to us? I think you care more for your job than you do for me."

"For Christ's sake, honey, it isn't like that at all!"

"Then why… why don't you want to make love to me?"

"Oh, damn it, Melinda!" He lifted the sheets and crawled under, sliding into comfortable sleeping position. His back was turned to Melinda and she stared at it, drawing no more comfort from his bare shoulders than she had gotten from the rest of him.

"I take it the discussion is over?" she sniffed.

"I suppose so."

"The hell you say!"

Melinda flung the sheets off him, quickly, surprisingly, and Neil turned over. "Oh, for…"

She grabbed the waistband of his pajamas and jerked them down. He didn't have time to protest or prevent and, since he wore nothing under his pajamas, his soft cock was bare in a twinkling sort of way.

Soft and tiny, curled like a little worm across the medium-sized bag of stones, a flash of skin in a curly sea of pubic hair. Melinda grabbed it in one hot palm and she squeezed viciously, gasping with the intensity of her attack. She felt him throb in her hand and she was positive that Neil's cock engorged ever so slightly.

He twisted his body, as if he meant to slip out of her possessive grip, but she had him firmly by the prick. "No," Melinda announced dictatorially. And then she yanked his tool as if she were milking a cow. He stretched in her fist, but did he harden?

A little, maybe. He felt stiffer, as if some life had finally begun to ooze stealthily into his penis. She looked at his face. His eyes were averted, resisting her fierce demanding stare. She pulled away, and this time she was certain. He was starting to get at least a semi-erection.

Well, a semi-erection was better than he'd been doing lately. Goddamn his job, if it was draining him of his manhood, destroying their sex life!

They'd been married four years and for three and a half of those years everything had been perfect. Absolutely perfect. She and Neil clicked. In bed. Out of bed. Everywhere. They couldn't have been a more congenial couple if they'd been born identical twins.

But six months ago Neil had gotten a promotion and they'd moved here from Pittsburgh, and the trouble had begun. It was a nice town, they'd bought a lovely house, and Neil was doing very well with the company, but at what cost? He worked late every night, often on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, and when she saw him he always had some excuse. They had not made satisfactory love in so long, she'd almost forgotten how exciting it could be when his cock rammed and slammed her to pussy-erupting orgasm.

"It's not my fault," she'd told her mirror only this morning. "I try. I try very hard. I've never refused him, never pretended to have a headache at bedtime. I love him and I desire him. I try to show him that, every day. But he has no time for me. Is his job that important?"

Or was it possible that she simply wasn't trying hard enough? And so she'd gone shopping for the negligee, the sexy perfume. Tonight, she promised herself, when Neil came to bed, he'd find himself trapped in the bedroom with a hot-blooded, aggressive sex bomb. Melinda. And if sex still turned out to be a fizzle…

Like it was turning out right now?

"Please, honest," he sighed, "why don't you let me get some sleep? I have to be at the office a little early in the morning…"

"Why don't you just move to the fucking office?" she snapped angrily. "You think about it more than you think about me, it seems." He started to say something but she didn't give him the chance. Her hand yanked again on his cock and this time she was positive she felt the stirrings of life in her husband.

"There!" she said. "You can do it."

"Melinda, please…"

She wasn't listening. Her head dropped like a shot and she stuffed his limp penis into her mouth. Neil groaned audibly, but Melinda wasn't listening. She felt the peculiar, salty flavor of his cock against her tongue and she began to suck furiously, determined that if her hand couldn't get him hard enough to fuck, her mouth damned sure could.

"Ohhhh, baby," he moaned, and once that had meant that he was grooving on the way she ate him. Once, when their marriage had been perfect. Now it was a moan tinged with reluctance and it grated on Melinda's ears like a symptom of a life gone wrong. Be reluctant, she thought. And see if it stops me!

She pulled him with her mouth, grazing the sensitive tip of his rod with her sharp nibbling teeth. Her tongue sloshed back and forth across the soft pink stalk of Neil's dick, and her jaws sucked in to vacuum furiously all around him. In a moment she began to feel results.

Life was definitely flowing into her husband's prick. He was thicker than when she'd started sucking, and his cock not so limber and flexible. He touched the top of her head with his fingers but she didn't stop. Her jaws tightened on him and she made her tongue work harder, more wickedly around the lengthening barrel. Saliva filled Melinda's mouth, coating Neil as she worked on him, and it was thrilling as well as rewarding to feel the sudden tap-tap-a-tap of pulsation fluttering through Neil's prick.

"I can't keep it up," he warned. "I know I can't."

Yes you can! she thought. You can keep it up long enough to throw me a beautiful hot fuck, the way you used to! Melinda gobbled at the steadily-engorging tool, bathing it with her spit, loving it with her tongue as it swelled and bloomed and grew fat and thick and ponderous in her avid mouth.

Not all the magic had departed from their marriage, she reflected happily, just as Neil's cock attained its lull growth. He was nearly eight inches long, thick in proportion, with a magnificent coronal head that flared like the ace of spades.

When he was fully erect that pocket point glowed like a hot fire, red and inflamed and passionate, its skin texture smooth as velvet beneath her tongue and fingers.

She tested that velvet now with the tip of her tongue, steadying the cock with her hand while she licked its knob. A tiny dab of pre-cum formed in the slatted opening at his very pinnacle, and she sampled it appreciatively. Once upon a time she and Neil hid taken great delight in spilling their sex juices into one another's mouths. She had warm, beautiful memories of long nights spent trading oral sex back and forth, ending in hot sessions of sixty-nine that seemed to last orgasmically into the wee hours of the morning. Once, she recalled, she'd sucked five steamy gushes from his cock in a single evening while his tongue had flogged her cunt into a series of eruptions that brought Melinda moaning and screaming to the heights of full passion.

But that had been in Pittsburgh, before they'd pulled up stakes and moved, before their marriage had gone sour and stale? She supposed so. There was even a slight staleness to the taste of her husband's cock now, the kind of staleness Melinda associated with a used car and its aura of past owners. It made a good symbol of what their lives had become.

Still, he was up, bigger, harder, than he'd been in weeks, and there was a warmth in his flesh that felt marvelous against her tongue, promised delight, and stirred Melinda's own passions.

She lifted the hem of her gown. Beneath it she wore nothing, except the perfume dabbed onto her pink flesh. As she continued to suck Neil's cock Melinda sought for his hand. The fingers were stiff, the hand reluctant, but she dragged him to her crotch, applied his fingers to the hair-tufted lips of her pussy. She was wet there, and she steered him into that wetness.

"Nnnnnhhh," her moan rose as she tried to insert his stiff, unwilling fingers in her petal-like cunt, but despite the slight pain she persisted, and in a moment he had his middle finger jammed to the hilt in her pussy. More wetness flowed almost as soon as his finger penetrated her cuntal sphincter and the deeper he pierced, the wetter she became. In a moment her initial moan became a soft pulsating purr of pleasure, and she felt a tingle between the moist swollen lips of her snatch.

Her clit ached for the want of him. It had been such a long time since they'd gotten off reasonably well together. So many miserable nights of failure. Neil too tired even to try. His cock strangely impotent, struggling within her cuntal gate, shrinking wretchedly even as she writhed against him in search of the delight she was entitled to find in his arms. Oh, it was going to be good tonight, she promised herself, laying the head of his rod with her tongue, feeling a reassuring throb in the velvety flesh, a throb that promised… that virtually assured her…

Melinda squirmed against him, loving the feel of his finger in her twat. His fingers were long, not as thick, perhaps, as they could have been, but her pussy was glued fast around the probing intruder, sucking it up, milking it with eager, happy muscular twitches. And when he reamed about in her, the pressure excited and withdrawn upon her clit sent tingles of excited anticipation through Melinda's entire body.

Yes! she thought, Yes! This is the way it's supposed to be! She fed more of his cock into her mouth, swallowing about half his eight inches, and her hand squeezed passionately on the tight sac of his scrotum. Up and down her head raced, sucking, vacuuming. Stay hard, she radioed to Neil's prick. Stay hard so you can fuck my ass off, you beautiful piece of flesh!

His finger had begun to work with some activity in her pussy, and sticky juice oozed from her parted cunt lips. Melinda felt the hot wet drops collecting in her pubic hair, kept them on the base of Neil's finger when he plumbed her fully, and she squirmed into the angle of finger-thrusts, eagerly accepting him in her hot pussy. Oh, God, hadn't he thought of her once, all this time? Hadn't he realized that she craved him, desired him madly, that his poor performance in bed the past few months was driving her crazy?

Oh, maybe they were over it, finally! He was throbbing, at full hard-on now, and it was fantastic. Her mouth we crammed with him, and soon her pussy would be, too.

Melinda withdrew her head slowly, allowing his cock to ease from her mouth. Frothy beads of split coated him up and down, and he was glowing red at the tip again, the way she wanted to see him. Her fist tightened around the base of the penis, squeezing the shaft, the edge of her hand grinding down upon his nuts, and she tossed her head, shaking halt from her eyes. Melinda's skin tingled and she knew that her face and breasts were suffused with deep sexual blush. Oh, she wanted him to see it, to know how hot she was for him! They could restore the magic if they both tied!

"Look, darling," she panted, stroking his rigid erection. "Look how big and hard you are. Oh, it's so beautiful!"

"I…"

"Don't talk," she murmured, closing his lips with her index finger. She rose onto her knees, his finger falling out of her pussy, and Melinda hastily removed her green nightie. Her tits jiggled as she pulled off the gown, and she didn't have to look down to know that her nipples were stiff and pointing erected with the tremulous desire that, raged inside her body. "Look at me," she whispered. "Look at my body. It's all yours. Take it." She offered him a hand, and he took it. His palm was moist and cool, so cool, clutched in the heat of her own.

Melinda bent low, and she kissed the tip of her husband's cock. Good boy, she thought. You came through at just the right time. She ran a hand up and down the stiff barrel of the prick, and she rubbed the swollen knob against her cheek, lips slightly parted as she breathed across Neil's tool.

"Uuuughhh!!" he cried suddenly, and she felt him twitch against her cheek. Melinda's head snapped back in alarm, but it was too late. She didn't even have time to close her eyes defensively. Neil's cock erupted, spitting gobs of cum into her face, her hair. It splattered her skin and hung there in thick, sticky drops.

"No!!!" she screamed and, as he continued to squirt, she closed a fist around Neil's cock, and whipped him into her mouth. Twitching still, he emptied himself there, and as the last spurt gushed from him across her tongue, all the stiffness vanished. His cock seemed to melt in her mouth and, suck as she might, Melinda found herself nursing a limp, useless tool that tasted vividly of its premature explosion.

Neil patted her head, and she released him. There were tears in her eyes as she looked at the withered dick. He smiled weakly, shrugged in resignation. "I told you I couldn't," he said, but his eyes were averted, unwilling to look directly into hers.

Melinda touched her face, felt the sticky cum-drops that had begun to ooze down her smooth skin. She felt disappointment, and not a little disgust. Again her dreams had turned to shit at virtually the moment of fulfillment. "You told me," she agreed, her voice tight in her throat.

Neil pulled up the sheets she had cast aside, and he settled upon his side, away from her. "Well," he said, "I guess I'll go to sleep now."

Melinda picked up her discarded silk negligee. Ninety dollars wasted, she thought. But at least it had one use. She began to wipe the cum off her face with the sexy gown she'd hoped would remind her husband of his duties and pleasure. Still wiping, she got up from the bed and went down the hall to the bathroom. Even before she had left the mom she could hear Neil breathing softly, evenly, in his sleep.

CHAPTER TWO

First she washed her face, toweling away the dotted cum in her hair. Even so, she was a mess, and first thing in the morning she'd have to shampoo and rinse. Damn him! Squirting in her face like a high-school boy on his first hot date! He was no boy. He was a man. Or was he? Had his duties at the office perhaps turned her husband into some kind of pathetic frump, good only for sitting at a desk and looking very executive?

"I don't know," she told the Melinda in the mirror. "I've tried everything. Has… has he just lost interest in me?"

She didn't know, and neither did her mirror image. Both of them shook their heads simultaneously, one sad face staring back at the other. Even her tile looked sad, the nipples drooping like downcast eyes. She cupped her breasts from beneath and stared hopefully at the mirror. It didn't help.

She stepped back, surveying her naked body, intent on catching the slightest flaw in her appearance – anything that might have turned off her husband, caused him to lose interest in her. She could see nothing. At twenty-nine, she looked almost as she had the day she married Neil, four years ago. Her hair was still lustrous and shimmering, her face smooth, her eyes bright but candid. And her figure? She hadn't put on a pound in years. She could still wear the clothes she'd worn in high school – except that those styles were out of fashion now. Her tits were still full and high, nicely separated, capped in small dark nipples that were perky when she was perky, sorry when she was sorry. Her waist was trim and long, flaring out into a woman's hips and ass. Below, that proud butt long, slender legs carried her with a smooth-stepping gracefulness. She walked well, she danced. Well or at least she had, once. Neil hadn't take her dancing in a couple of years. Something else he'd lost interest in.

She was a brunette, tinged in natural highlights of red, and her hair was beautiful. Melinda scooped it up, swirled it around her face, hoping it would add a little note of gaiety to her somber features.

She looked down, sadly, at the small, almost perfect V of hair at her loins. It was brunette too, darker than the hair on top but tighter-curled. Right now it looked like the "before" of a shampoo commercial. The frizzies. Even her bush reflected the rest of Melinda.

She ran a hand down her body and it came to rest idly upon the slightly prominent mound of her pussy. Her fingers leafed through the dark thick curls of hair and she found herself touching the warm, still moist flesh. God, she'd come so close! Her cunt had been dripping impatiently as Neil's finger worked in and out, and in her mouth his cock had swelled and blossomed like a flowering orchid. And then – just as she was ready to mount her man and ride their mutual passion to a tumultuous breaking – he'd… he'd… oh, it made her sick to think of it! His hard-on, so carefully nurtured, so happily arrived, bursting in her face, spewing semen everywhere except where she most craved it – in the churning depths of an orgasmic pussy. Melinda looked up. She really ought to take off her makeup. There was no need to be glamorous now. Not for a sleeping husband.

But her hand was still clutching her pussy and she couldn't bear letting go. Instead, she clutched a little tighter, feeling her cunt swell slightly in her clasped hand. Man it-it felt nice! And lately she'd done so much masturbation. How else was she to release the need that built and festered inside her body? Neil was obviously little interested. God, how could a man get so caught up in his work that he would neglect the woman who loved him? Didn't he see what it was doing to her? Couldn't he guess? Tonight's getup – the negligee, the perfume, the makeup – it was a desperate effort to recapture his interest. Oh, why had they ever left Pittsburgh? They'd been happy there, their sex life dynamite. Six months in their new home and everything had gone to hell. She wished… she wished…

Melinda looked round the bathroom. Neil's clothes were where he'd left them, folded neatly, ready to go into the hamper and to the washing machine. "Your clothes," she said. "I see more of your clothes than I see of you, darling. I wish you were here now, with me, so I could tell you…"

Aaaahhh!! Her fingers dug into the puff of her snatch and she felt a throb of excited response shoot through her body. Melinda's eyes closed, her head spun. She clutched at the basin for support, but she didn't take her hand off her twat. Instead, if anything, she clutched it more despairingly.

"Oh, I need something," she whispered, "and if I can't get it from Neil…"

Her eyes still closed, she turned round and stumbled toward the john. She found it with a questing foot and sat down, more by instinct than anything else. The cloth cover of the lid warmed beneath her buttocks and she squirmed about, moving till her ass felt comfortable. Melinda opened her eyes and fixed her gaze upon Neil's clothing. His shirt, his tie, his trousers. The undershorts which held, all day long, the cock she couldn't even get at night. Oh, God!

She reached down, then, with both hands. One set of fingers spread back the lips of her pussy, baring the slick reddish flesh inside. Flesh red with desire, slick with lustful wetness. A milky ooze emerging from the hole of her cunt itself, a milky ooze that coated and further slickened her vulgar flesh, that stuck to her fingers in glue-like beads. "Aaaahhh," she moaned, peeling back her fuck-starved labia, running one fingertip across the revealed puss and its tingly folds and crevices, hungry for love. Any kind of love. Even the kind that came from her darting fingers.

She felt so degraded whenever she had to resort to this, but what choice had she? Tonight she'd built herself up, physically and mentally, and the passion still rolled in her belly. Until it was satiated, she could think of nothing else.

Melinda didn't have to rub her clit to stir up that eager nubbin. It was already up, lithe and hot, when her finger got into action, and she pressed her love button tensely. She rolled it against her. Pubic bone till she wanted to scream for the pleasure of it. Why couldn't Neil do at least that much for her? Why did he have to be so… so fucking dead? Had he fallen out of love with her? Didn't he care?

She cared. She had to care. It was her cunt, her clit. If she didn't take their needs into consideration apparently no one would. Her finger rubbed harder against her vulva, the tip gouging now and then into the splayed mouth of her cunt.

"There," Melinda congratulated herself. "There!!"

The hole of her twat seemed to open further, and it was a real mouth now, lacking only net of teeth. She could even feel a tongue of flesh inside, or so she thought, one which lapped and tickled the finger as it suddenly thrust deep into the chum of her buttery sex.

She stabbed deeply, passionately, her finger stiff and pecker-like inside her clinging, sucking cuntal walls. Ohhhh, she was so wet! She'd been hotter, even, than she thought. No wonder her disappointment at Neil's lack of performance was so strong. No wonder her cunt ached now, ached for the release she had to give it with her hands, with her hands, with her.

Two fingers in her pussy now, two fingers that dived and stabbed and reamed the tight-clutching walls. She was snug inside, as snug as a much younger Melinda had been the first time she allowed Neil to fuck her. Oh, God, it had been so fantastic! That cock, big and hard and horny. The balls that manufactured cum by the quart, not the spoonful. The sex drive that spurred him to fuck her again and again – four times on the first night of their first date – a date that had stretched by mutual consent into a rapturous weekend together. Friday night. All day Saturday. All day Sunday. He'd even balled her in bed on Monday morning, so delightfully she'd demanded another go-round and had been late for work.

They lived together for three months, then married. He wasn't the that man she'd ever fucked – there had been two before him, one in high school, one in college – but he was the first man she'd ever wanted to spend the rest of her life with. The rest of her life? They wouldn't celebrate their fifth anniversary until next year. If they lasted that long. God knew, something had gone sour in their relationship.

But for the moment she could make herself forget. Yes! Forget! Think only of the two fingers – no! – it was three now, and each of them a passion-mad beast roving in the sheath of her cunt, thrusting up her slick, dripping channel, burning her ecstatically with the friction of their in-out strokes.

She was twisting about on the john, her legs stretching, curling, and her lower body fucked furiously at the hand which fucked it. There was a throbbing in her body, a throbbing that originated in the swollen lump of her clit.

"You too, darling," she panted. Her other set of fingers planted themselves around the beacon of her clitoris and started to massage the aching flesh there. Two fingers pinched her sex trigger from the sides, causing a thin, tight whine to seep from Melinda's mouth, and she arched her back, screwing more and more of herself into the action of her masturbating hands. It wasn't as good as sex with Neil, but it was all she had.

"Ohhhh…" Four fingers in her snatch, the thumb of that hand tickling round and round the outer lips as its partners penetrated deeper and deeper. She felt as if she could thrust her entire hand up her cunt, catch hold of her uterus and pull herself inside out. Oh, what a beautiful idea! Then all her most sensitive parts would be right out in the open, where she could get to them whenever, wherever she wanted. Melinda giggled, and each time the sweet, silvery laugh rippled through her body, it met and collided with a spurt of physical ecstasy, radiating upward from her self-violated twat.

The onrush of orgasm was like a kick in the belly, but it wasn't a painful feeling. Quite the opposite. It was best of all when Neil's cock was in her balls-deep, tickling her womb, teasing her with the promise of his cum as her own sex organ exploded deliriously around his prick. But she couldn't have that. He wouldn't – couldn't – give it to her. And, the lump of her fingers made a substitute nearly acceptable. Oh, bunched up this way, her four fingers provided a thick barreling tool in her churning snatch, but it wasn't the same. Not at all. She missed the steady pulsation she could always feel in her husband's cock as he fucked her, the way his heart seemed to beat massively in the extension of his prick. She missed the telltale twitching that always heralded the bunting open of Neil's cum-ducts, the flood that would saturate her cunt in boiling milk. When had she last felt that?

This evening, as she rubbed his dick on her face. That same giveaway twitching, and she'd known, even as his cock began to spray her, wasting that delicious gooey load.

"Oh, Goddd!!" Melinda moaned, her heart twisting in pain inside her body. She didn't want to think about… couldn't think about… not now not when it was… when she was…

She poured out heart and soul, not to mention her pussy and all its seething bubbling juices, and her head rocked, long hair swirling across her face and back again. She could smell his cum in her hair, where stray gobs had squirted, and it helped. A little. But this orgasm was nearly all her on doing. Her fingers. Her memories. Melinda's ass bobbed up and down on the john's seat cover, and by now the cloth was scorching hot, set afire by the heat of her quivering body.

She wrapped her legs around the hands in her cunt, and she squeezed herself up into a seated knot, pressuring her pussy even as it shuddered and convulsed with its juicy release. Her toes curled and uncurled in mid-air, clenching, grasping. Her pussy was clenching and grasping too, and it sucked at the fingers inside it as if the sly little snatch never meant to let them go. Melinda threw her head back, shaking hair from her face, and she gave her snatch full rein. Do what you will, she thought. You deserve what little pleasure you can get.

She rocked and rippled and came, and she leaked pussy milk until the entire bathroom seemed to be suffused with the aroma of her climax. The flutter of her cuntal muscles finally relaxed, and she was able to extract her wet aching fingers.

"Ohhh," she sighed, "it seems to get better each time I do it. Practice makes perfect? God, how much longer will I have to reply on my hands? Neil, what is wrong with you? What is wrong with me?"

She raised her hands, stared at the sticky cream which covered them, and then, as she had done before, as she knew she'd do again she began to suck her fingers dry. The taste of her orgasmic juice was delicious, but she already knew that. She'd kissed her cum from Neil's mouth, she'd sucked his cock greedily after it had spent several minutes reaming and fucking inside her cunt. Once upon a time. When their marriage was good. When they were good. Together.

"I just don't know," she lamented. "I just don't know."

When she could stand, she went to the sink and took off her makeup. The face that reflected from the mirror was plainer, with lipstick and eye shadow and rouge removed, but it was by no means a plain face. She had good bone structure, good coloration. She was not an unattractive woman, neither in her face nor in her body. So why did her husband now choose to devote ninety-five percent of his time and attention to his work and none to her?

"This," she said aloud, "is what happens after 'They all lived happily ever after'. The Prince gets bored with Snow White and…" Tears glistened in her eyes, tears of self-pity perhaps, but if she didn't feel sorry for herself, who would? Certainly not Neil. He was too busy at the office.

"Maybe I'll call his boss," she said. "Tell him he's working my husband too hard, that it's ruining our marriage."

Oh, God, what a fantastic idea! It would screw up everything that isn't already screwed up. Little as that may be.

Melinda shook her head sadly. She went to the closet, found a robe, and sheathed her body in it. An old robe, terry-cloth, floor-length, frowsy, the kind of thing any housewife might wear around the house. Especially a housewife who no longer had anything to be glamorous for.

Neil's clothes. She might as well carry them down to the hamper. Tomorrow was washday. And she didn't feel like going to bed quite yet.

Better check first, see if he'd left anything in his pockets. Neil was pretty good about cleaning his pockets, but once he'd forgotten to remove a half of important notes and Melinda had sent them through the washer along with his clothes.

Nothing in his shirt. It smelled of tobacco. Neil didn't smoke, but everyone else at the office did, and he came home reeking of the foul stuff. Well, the wash would take it out. Until the next time he wore his shirt to work.

She picked up his trousers, rummaged through the pockets, and then nodded sagely. Good thing she'd looked. Melinda extracted a rolled-up piece of paper. Probably something highly important. Neil had a habit of writing things down on tiny scraps of paper, scraps he was always losing. Well, she'd saved this one. Wonder what it might be? The outline for an important contract? Melinda unrolled the paper.

Darling Neil,

I feel like a schoolgirl passing you a love note, but, that's what this is. Oh darling I don't think I can wait till tonight. Why don't you call me out of the typing pool and we'll lock ourselves into your office and fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck… And then well fuck some more. Mmmm! I'm getting all wet and creamy, thinking about you, and me.

Oh, call me, or I'll just volunteer myself to your office, door. Who said you couldn't trust anyone over thirty? You're thirty and I trust you. To give me enough hot hard cock for three women. Please call me, darling, please. My pussy is pouting for you. It's hungry. Feed it your cream.

Melinda dropped the note and it fluttered to the floor. "Good God," she said aloud, then knelt and retrieved the note. It was typed and, she recognized from her own secretarial days, typed on an IBM Electric with Courier Italic font. The "K" was handwritten, in black ink, and she was certain that it was a female hand. "Oh, Jesus," she said, shuddering. Of course a woman had written that "K". If her husband was fucking around with anyone on the side, it wouldn't be with a man. Fucking around? On the aide? Her vision, went black for a moment and she didn't know if she were still standing. Melinda had a flash of the floor making up to meet her but it was a delusion. When her eyesight returned to normal she was on her feet, the piece of incriminating paper quivering in her fingers.

Not for a moment had she even suspected that there might be another woman in Neil's life. But… could it… could it be?

The note was explicit, full of X-rated language. A woman wouldn't send a note like this one to a man. Not unless – K. Had Neil ever mentioned a "K" from work?

She didn't remember. Someone in the typing pool, apparently. Melinda rubbed her fingers and mouth, wanting to burst into tears or fall into a coma. But she couldn't. She needed all her energy, all her concentration. Had he come to her tonight – and how many other nights – fresh from another woman? Instead of working late at the office, instead of working weekends in a natural junior executive's passion to get ahead, had Neil been gripped by another kind of pension? An adulterous relationship?

She read the note again, though she knew she could never forgot a single word of it, as long as she lived. And then she wiled it, carefully, into the same thin twist it had been when she found it. He mustn't know she'd seen his pornographic love letter. Not until she was ready to tell him. And when she was… Anger blazed in Melinda. She was glad she couldn't see her face in a mirror now, for it would not be an attractive face. It would be the face of a woman outraged, a woman determined to fight for what belonged to her. This bitch "K" could not take Neil away from Melinda. No matter what Neil thought, no matter what "K" thought.

She replaced his clothes, just as he'd left them. As far as Neil was concerned, she hadn't touched anything. Melinda tied the robe tightly about her and went into the living room. The thought of going back to bed, of lying down beside a man who had cheated her, betrayed her – she couldn't handle that. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

"But first," she told herself, "I have to find out. Who she is. How long this has been going on. I can't fight until I know the details."

She wanted to sit down, but her feet would not cooperate. They carried her past the couch, into the kitchen. She drank a glass of milk but it curdled on its way down her digestive tact. Something I can do, she thought, but what?

The next morning, after Neil had kissed her cold lips goodbye and started for the office, Melinda was drinking her third cup of black coffee, trying to read the morning paper. But not even Peanuts seemed funny. Not today.

She flipped past the comic page, into the Want Ads. And there, glaring in bold print three-quarters down a column of advertisements, she saw it.

Concerned? Anxious? Do you have to know what someone is doing? Qualified, discreet investigation services are available for your peace of mind. D. Hammett Agency. Call 892-1713 for appointment.

"A sign from heaven," Melinda said hoarsely.

She finished her coffee and went to the telephone. Her fingers trembled so nervously she had to dial it with a pencil, and then, holding her breath, she waited for an answer at 892-1713.

CHAPTER THREE

"Are you sure you want to see these?" Dave Hammett asked.

"Why? I paid for them, didn't I?"

"Well, the money hasn't changed hands yet. Mrs. Stillman. But this is pretty graphic tape footage. I mean, it's hardcore. You might not want to see it…"

Melinda sighed. She sipped at the coffee the detective had poured for her, but it was such a strong bitter brew she didn't think she could drink it. "I have to know," she said. "Everything."

Two days ago at this time she'd been blissfully unaware, unsuspecting. Innocent? Innocent. And today, not thirty hours after she'd first talked to Dave Hammett, she was in his office and brutally enlightened.

Neil was indeed having an affair. He had not been working late nights at the office. He'd been lying to her, and his sexual torpor at home? Chalk that up to one Kathy McDonald.

Hammett had shown Melinda a picture of Kathy and a sample of her handwriting. She was definitely the "K" of Neil's pocketed note. Nosing around the company's offices, Hammett had learned that Mr. Stillman seemed to make a lot of specific requests for Miss McDonald when he rang up the typing pool. Perhaps it was only her speed and accuracy on the Electric?

The photograph was then from a distance, with telephoto lens. It showed Neil and a young girl, no more than nineteen or twenty, Melinda guessed. Kathy. She had a perfect heart-shaped face, and it was achingly beautiful. Her figure appeared to be neat, not overstuffed, and she looked up at Neil with something more than a typist's regard for her employer.

But that wasn't all. Hammett was a competent, thorough investigator. He'd managed to bug Miss McDonald's apartment and now, set up and ready, were the videotapes he had made. Did Melinda want to see them? Of course she did. Graphic footage, he'd said. She supposed that he meant the tapes showed her husband fucking Kathy. Weil, she had to know. She had to know it all. Down to the last detail. No matter how much it hurt. "GO ahead," she told Dave Hammett. "I'm paying for them. I want to see the evidence."

"Okay," he said. "So. I got into her place yesterday, while she was at work. I figured the bedroom would be the best bet, and I fixed up a circuit which activated the camera when the bedroom door was opened, then shut. This is silent footage, but I don't think it really needs a soundtrack. It can't be introduced into court as evidence in a divorce case, but with it as leverage, your lawyer can get whatever you want out of court." He pointed to a medium-sized television set. "Just watch there."

Melinda settled in her chair, heart pumping at the base of her throat. She heard clicks and then a color picture appeared on the TV. There was no sound, but Hammett was right. Sound wasn't necessary.

Kathy McDonald, bright blonde, rosy-cheeked, fresh as the cover of a teenage girls' magazine, stood in the center of the screen. She was wearing a clinging halter top which molded the apple-sized perfection of her small round tits. Her flat stomach was bare and creamy-skinned, all the way down to a pair of low-riding denim cutoffs. She had legs to her ears, or so it looked, and they were sleek, shapely legs. They must look quite fetching to a junior executive thrusting from beneath the hem of a short, sexy miniskirt.

Kathy said something and then a hand came into the picture. It touched her bare shoulder, fingers walking across the rounded flesh, and then more of Neil appeared. Oh, it was Neil all right. He looked very attractive on color television, Melinda decided. Of course he looked very nice in the flesh, too, and she felt a pang in her guts to see him onscreen with another woman, to see the way he touched Kathy, the way he stared at her, his eyes devouring her young lovely body.

His hand moved behind her neck. Kathy laughed, and then the top of her halter dropped, revealing bare breasts. Melinda winced. Perfect breasts. Round, coming to delicate pink points. Very good color adjustment, she thought. The pink of Kathy's nipples was so Goddamned natural, yet somehow more than natural, too. Small B-cups, Melinda decided. No sag. No droop. They must look very sweet, braless under a tight sweater or a silk shirt. Who could blame Neil for getting ga-ga over them?

They melted together in a kiss, and Kathy rubbed her bare titties all over Neil's chest. She was short and so Neil had to lift her against him, his hands possessive as hell clutching the denim covered moons of her ass. Short-cut denims, Melinda noticed. Half of Kathy's pink ass showed beneath the frayed shorts. Neil seemed to notice too. At least his flagon did. As he pawed the young girl's butt, his fingertips slid around the exposed buttock flesh, slipping inside. Must have been ticklish, for Kathy began to squirm and wiggle against Neil, her crotch moving up and down his front. When she finally settled onto her feet, there was a large noticeable lump in the front of Neil's pants. Kathy touched it, her lips pursing into an obvious "Ooooohhh" of delight.

Neil's mouth opened. He was speaking. Melinda couldn't read lips, but somehow it didn't seem necessary. Kathy cupped her hands over the bulge and she fondled it, smiling, and her eyes large and limpid-blue. She tiptoed and kissed the tip of Neil's nose. Her nipples were very stiff now, sticking out a mile. Their pink had deepened to a rosy reddish color as they engorged, and Melinda saw her husband's fingers affix themselves to those stiff swollen rosebuds. He rolled his fingers on them, and Kathy's body swayed in a dance like manner.

"They seem to be very good friends," she told Dave Hammett. The detective didn't say anything. There was an angry bite in Melinda's voice. If he'd answered at all, she'd have flown at him in amp, expressing her bitterness toward Neil. And if Neil had been here, she'd have killed him. My God, she thought. The movie's just beginning! How will I foci before it's over?

Neil undressed Kathy. Apparently she wasn't fond of underwear, for she had nothing beneath the halter and cutoffs. Nothing except creamy, peachy skin, and a little puff of golden hair between her legs. Her beaver was small, and her pussy appeared to be a tiny one as well. There wasn't enough hair to mask her slit, but it was only a slit, very neat, very tight-looking. Pale sleek thighs flanked that puff of gold and its slashed contents, and Melinda's groin ached when she saw her husband's hand stroke time and again across that blonde crotch. Damn him, she thought. Damn him.

Undressing Kathy was a slow, sensuous process. Neil spent a long time mouthing and nuzzling hers breasts and even from, the camera's distance Melinda could see tooth marks on Kathy's skin, bubbles of frothy spit decorating the stiff pink nipples. And there was something horrible about the way Kathy ran her fingers through Neil's hair as he licked and kissed and sucked his way down her body. Melinda's hands clenched into fists and she rapped softly but sharply on the arm of her chair.

Neil unbuttoned the cutoffs and pulled them down Kathy's long, undulating thighs as his tongue raced toward the freshly exposed area. He speared into her navel, rimming it while Kathy laughed above him, her fingers curling through his hair. The camera's angle was such that Melinda couldn't really see what Neil was doing when he put his face into the girl's crotch, but she didn't have to see. Kathy's smile broadened, her blue eyes closed, and she eased her head back with an expression of nirvana taking over her face. Neil's head stayed in place a long time indeed, and Melinda crossed her legs, painfully aware of how sweetly her husband could use his lips and tongue on a hot, juicy pussy.

When Kathy was fully nude, she pulled Neil's ears and he stood, grinning like a shit-eating dog. Kathy wrapped her arms around his waist and oozed herself against him, rubbing him up and down with her ripe young figure. She leaned back and started to unbutton his shirt. Neil threw it off while Kathy stooped and let down his pants. Next his shorts. He moved obediently as she denuded him, and his cock lanced up, red and stiff, so throbbingly erect that even the videotaped image made Melinda's saliva start to pool inside her mouth.

"Do you want to see any more?" Dave Hammett suggested. Melinda turned and glared at him, her brown eyes blazing. He shrugged.

When she looked once more at the TV screen, Kathy was on her knees sucking Neil's dick. She had a deep well of a mouth indeed. Nearly all eight inches were firmly trapped between her lips, and her head moved in quick gobbling plunges that sank Neil into her mouth almost to the balls. Melinda felt a lump in her throat as she watched that. She'd never been able to take her husband so deeply, though God knew she'd tried. Kathy seemed to have no trouble whatsoever.

Neil was grinning, even more broadly than before. He had the blonde girl by the head, guiding her, directing her, feeding her his meat stick with a frenzied eagerness. He rocked on his heels, riding high, slamming his dick into Kathy, whose eyes were closed in an expression of almost religious intensity as her cheeks worked in and out on the barreling cock.

Melinda miffed. Smoke. "Please," she told Hammett. "Tobacco nauseates me."

"Sorry." She heard the rubbing as he pound out his cigarette. Distractions like tobacco smoke fouling the air were the best thing she needed right now, when she was viewing the videotaped record of her husband's infidelity.

The picture on the office TV screen was as sharp and precise as anything Melinda had ever seen on television, but she'd never seen anything quite like this. Kathy was still on her knees, sucking Neil's cock greedily. It kept thrusting into her bottomless well of a mouth, thrusting till the balls pressed against Kathy's chin. The blonde girl appeared to be in seventh heaven. Her eyes rolled beneath the lightly-shut lids, her checks pulled in so far it was amazing that Neil's would even fit between their suctioning walls, and her hands slid languidly, erotically, up and down Neil's flanks and thighs.

She let his prick slip out – it was glistening from her saliva – and she opened her eyes, bright eyes, sparkling eyes, laughing what must have been a silvery laugh indeed as her index finger stroked the spit-covered penis' blazing rigidity. She touched it from beneath, making the cock lift at an even sharper angle, and she started to lick its underside, dropping her tongue back every few swipes to bounce and jiggle Neil's scrotum. Neil's face was in the camera's frame too, and Melinda could see that her husband was fully as ecstatic as his paramour. Especially when Kathy's pink tongue laved endlessly, friskily, around and across the bulging, swollen tip of his dick. He groaned, open-mouthed, and Kathy was open-mouthed for a moment, too.

But only for a moment. In the blinking of an eye she had reinserted Neil's dick in her mouth and was sucking as if her life depended on it. Her head moved swiftly, unerringly, and her arms wrapped around Neil's hips, anchoring him in place.

"I don't see why she's wasting her time in a typing pool," Hammett commented from behind Melinda. "She could really make a name for herself in porno movies."

"Perhaps," Melinda said acidly, "but what would you do for a job?"

"Sorry," he replied. "I've gotten a little callous in this racket. For you, it isn't time for jokes."

He was right, all the same. Kathy was a born cocksucker. Or were cocksucker made, rather than born? She's better than I am, Melinda thought. At least, she appears to be. Damn her.

It was Neil's face that gave it away. Melinda had seen that look many times before. He looked toward the ceiling, then at Kathy, and then his eyes snapped shut. His mouth twisted into a tight-lipped grimace, and his head quivered slightly. Melinda saw his stomach began to heave, and almost at once Kathy's eyes opened, very big. Neil was shooting his cum into her sucking mouth.

The videotaped picture was instructive, to say the least. Kathy gulped as she swallowed the offering, but it was a big, rich load, and plenty of it dripped from her mouth as she sucked. She pulled Neil's prick from her mouth and teased it with her hand until another large gob of sperm fell from the cum slit onto her tongue where it thrust out in pink, creamy readiness, and she rubbed the empty cock across her lips and checks, kissing it lavishly, lovingly.

Neil offered Kathy his hands and she stood up, her face a textbook example of simpering. Neil seized her head in his hands and kissed her madly, while Kathy locked her legs around him like a vine and clung to his body. Melinda hadn't seen a kiss as long as that one since that movie with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway – what was the name of it? Must have been eight or nine years ago. McQueen was a debonair thief in Boston.

The effort to remember ceased abruptly. Neil and Kathy had separated, at last, and they looked into one another's faces, and Melinda saw her husband's lips move. There was no sound on the tape but she didn't need sound. She could read lips well enough to understand at once that he was telling his blonde mistress "I love you." And if she knew her husband, after four years of marriage, his facial expression was literally reeking with sincerity.

"Goddamn you," she said softly. "Goddamn you, Neil Stillman."

Naked, they piled onto Kathy's bed. It was an old-fashioned bed, polished brass, and the brass work jiggled as Neil and Kathy settled onto the mattress. There was a moment of joyous kissing and fondling, and Kathy got her fist full of Neil's cock. It erected magnificently, eight inches of throbbing gristle clutched in her hand, and almost immediately she had reversed her mouth once again with the penis that had just furnished her supper. Neil appeared to enjoy it. He put his hand on Kathy's ass, stroking the slim, curvy shape from spine to upper thighs, and his fingers seemed magnetically drawn to the crack dividing Kathy's pert buttocks. He slithered up and down her anal cleavage, dropping lower each time he played with her, and in a moment or two his face set happily and Melinda could just make out that her husband's middle finger was slipping in and out of Kathy's pussy from the rear.

Kathy squirmed friskily, her mouth still gobbling dick, but she was laughing and giggling so energetically she could hardly concentrate much longer on eating him, so it was only to be expected that she and Neil would swiftly change position.

Kathy lay on her side facing Neil, one leg thrown across him as he scooted close. He had his hand between their crotches, adjusting something, it appeared – and Melinda knew what he was adjusting, damn him! Kathy reached in too, her hand active beside his. Her eyes got very large and round. So did her mouth. She slammed her groin against Neil's, her leg shot around him, and the brass frame of the bed began to shake uncontrollably.

Melinda turned round. "I don't think I need to see any more, Mr. Hammett," she said icily. "Please turn it off."

He nodded, flipped a couple of buttons on his playback deck. "I'm sorry," he said, "but you must have expected it would turn out like this, even before you hired me."

She nodded. That tape had been made yesterday evening. Another of Neil's "late nights at the office". He'd come home just after nine, too tired, as always, to do more than kiss his wife goodnight. And now she knew why. "How many times?" she asked Hammett. He lifted his eyebrows. "How many times did my husband fuck this young woman last evening?"

Hammett smiled. He was perhaps a few years older than Melinda's twenty-nine, and he had a pleasant though not a distinguished face. Nose a little too large, chin perhaps too prominent. His eyes were a washed-out blue and his hair was thin and starting to recede. Why, not too tall, wearing a casual suit that had seen its best days circa 1973. He didn't look the kind of man who made his living as a confidential investigator, but perhaps that was the best way to look in his racket.

"Well, I had an hour's worth of tape in the camera. When it ran out, Mr. Stillman and Ms. McDonald were in their fourth encounter. The evidence is pretty sufficient, I believe… I really am sorry. I can see this has been a shock for you. Would you like a drink, maybe? Something to help settle your nerves?"

"Is it showing on my face?" Melinda asked. She supposed it was. There was an ashy, foul taste in her mouth and she wondered how she could crawl into bed with Neil tonight, trio wing what she now knew about how he spent his evenings. "Yes," she said. "I think I would. Some dry sherry, if you…"

He went to his desk, opened a drawer. "This is all I have," he said, holding up a half-full bottle of Jack Daniel's. "Besides… I've been through this scene with other ladies. What you need is a shot of Old Jack." He pulled a pair of glasses from the desk drawer and filled them with amber whiskey. Melinda took the one he offered, and she sipped until her mouth was warm and the rotten taste was gone. Hammett came around and sat on the edge of his desk, swirling whiskey in his own glass.

"Why?" Melinda asked, astonished to hear herself addressing the question to a stranger. "Why would my husband do something like that?"

Hammett shrugged, that poured down his whiskey. He filled his glass again. Melinda shook her head, thou nodded, and he refilled hers as well. "It happens," he said. "A guy works all day in an office, he sees this cute young thing from the secretarial pool, she sees him. Next time he needs some dictation or something, he asks for her. I gather that your husband is a mw on his way up with the company. She might figure he's a good catch. Or maybe he just wants some strange…"

"I mean," he went on, "it happens. Men are like that. Somebody said once that women are basically monogamous while men incline to polygamy. Hell, I go through this, two or three times a month. I've gotta admit, though, the wives who come in here wanting the lowdown on hubby usually aren't in your class, Mrs. Stills… They're usually fat and gone to seed. Half the time I can't blame the old man for chasing after a fresher – I'm not being very professional, am I? Well, if I was in your husband's shoes I don't think…"

Dave Hammett finished his second helping of Jack Daniel's, then put down the empty shot glass, shaking his head. "I'd better shut up while I'm ahead. So. Do you want me to deliver the videotape to your lawyer, or would you rather take it yourself? The fee entitles you to a signed deposition from me, as to the facts I've turned up. If I should have to testify in court, there'd be an extra charge…"

Melinda wasn't really listening. Lawyers? Court? Did she want that? "I don't know," she said. "I don't know what I want to do." She stood up. "How much do I owe you?"

Hammett picked up a file folder and extracted a sheet of paper. "Two days' work at one-fifty per comes to three hundred, plus expenses. Rental on the camera was twenty-eight-fifty. Gasoline and meal is eight-twenty-five. And I had to pay the doorman at Ms. McDonald's building fifty bucks to get into her apartment, to set up the camera, and seventy-five to get in this morning and get it out. Doormen's bribe scales are inflationary as hell. Last year I could have gotten by for twenty bucks flat, but… the grand total is $461.75."

Melinda took her checkbook from her purse. "Is a check all right?" she asked. Hammett nodded. She set it on the desk beside his thigh and began to fill out a blank. This was the household expense account. She'd have to come up with a good story when the account ran short before the end of the month. Unless she simply laid it out in front of Neil and told him that she knew about his secret life, that she'd spent four hundred dollars to unravel the lies he'd spun for her. Oh, she didn't know. She just didn't know.

She signed the check and handed it to Dave Hammett. His pale blue eyes seemed to fix upon hers and she couldn't break her own out of the interlock. She felt his fingers brushing her hand as he took the check, and there was a tingly sensation in her skin. Suddenly, instinctively, she knew that he was going to put his other arm around her, that he was going to pull her to him, that he was going to… Just as his lips touched hers and her eyes went shut, Melinda remembered. The name of that movie was The Thomas Crown Affair. As if it mattered.

CHAPTER FOUR

He slipped off the edge of the desk as he kissed her, so that he was standing up too, and Melinda felt herself leaning against his limber wiry frame. Her first impulse had been to push him away, but her second impulse was to fold her arms around him, and her second impulse was by far the stranger. Dave embraced her too, both his arms encircling Melinda, and she felt one hand cupping her shoulder, the other planted just above the generous swell of her ass.

His mouth was hot and wet upon hers, his tongue sucking across her lips. In another moment she'd opened her lips and his tongue was inside, finding hers awaiting him in clever ambush. She hadn't been kissed this passionately in a long time – not since Neil had begun to play around, she realized – and a warmth began to spread through her body, a warmth that smoldered from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. She pressed against him, wanting only to make that smoldering burst into flame.

"Mmmmm…" Melinda purred, as his lips ground upon hers, and she made her crotch do a little grinding, too, a sensuous bumping, pressing. Dave's hand slid lower, clutching one buttock, dragging her into him.

He wasn't a tall man. She had only to tip her head back slightly to make her mouth available, and her cunt was almost on a direct line with his loins. She worked her cunt on him, too, until she felt a response stirring inside his pants. A hard-on, she thought. He's hot and horny. He'd fuck me. If I would let him.

They came apart, and she stepped back, her eyes going down to examine the growing bugle in his pants. Even though she wasn't touching him now, he was still hardening as blood rushed down to engorge his pecker. A pleasant-looking bulge, she decided, her lips curling slightly.

He laughed, and she looked up. "You know," he said, "the main reason I got my private investigator's license? All those books and movies and TV shows. Bogart, mostly. Sam Spade. Philip Marlow. Figured I'd be solving murders and having women crawling all over me, just like Bogie or Joe Mannix or whoever. But I never put the make on a client before, Mrs. Stillman. I guess I never wanted to before. If I offended you, I'm sorry, but I'm glad as hell I did. You taste like fresh honey." Melinda rubbed her lips with the backs of her fingers. They tingled. So did she. Everywhere. Her tit felt heavier, swollen, the nipples itchy inside her brassiere. There was a wetness in her crotch, too, as if he'd already stabbed his cock into her pussy and filled it so full of his cream that the hot sticky stuff had no choice but to overflow her tight red-lipped gash and seep down the sleek creaminess of her thighs.

A breath caught in her throat and her head felt very light and dizzy. She started to take another step back, but somehow she lost her balance. At least it seemed that she was losing her balance. All she really knew was that suddenly her tits were nabbing Dave Hammett's chest and her lips were nibbling at his neck and if he liked the smell of female hair, he was in good shape because he had a face full of brunette locks tinged in auburn.

"Hey, lady," he said in a light, rather tense voice, but he had his hand on her ass again, and before Melinda could get her second wind she was rubbing him up and down with her body and his hands were stroking everything within reach, and that hard-on in his pants was getting birder by the moment, each pulse of fresh lust-carrying blood hammering on Melinda's flesh whore she kissed him with her crotch.

"Your husband ought to be shot," Dave whispered into her ear. "Unless you can't deliver."

"I can deliver," she promised. "Oh, God, can I deliver!" She reached between their bodies and her fingers caressed the swelling in his trousers. He moaned a little and pushed himself toward her hand. Somehow she managed to get his pants unzipped and her fingers inside, and it was worth the effort. His shorts were full of pecker, and soon her hand was full of pecker, too. "Mmmm," she cooed. "How about you, Mr. Hammett? Can you deliver? Because if you can't, I'm going to be very disappointed. Maybe I'll shoot you!"

He smiled. "I don't even have a gun."

"What's this?" she countered, squeezing his cock forcefully. "It feels like at lent a six-inch howitzer."

"You're close," he grinned, and his breath smelled very much of whiskey. "But you're guessing under."

"Mmm," she sighed, "then it'll be that much more pleasant a surprise. Oh, I'm not Lauren Bacall, but you're not exactly Bogart, either. Don't let that stand in the way. I need it more than you can imagine. Give it to inc. Huh?"

"Baby," he said, "I am gonna try."

First, however they had to get out of their clothes, and Dave had to lock his office door. "You never know," he said. When he returned to Melinda she was leaning against the desk, her hands cupping her breasts through the cloth of her sweater. Dave pushed her hands away, replacing them with his own, and he covered her tits with his palms. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Not too big, not too little. I think they're just right. And…" He pulled the sweater loose from her skirt and lifted it above the swell of her tits. She was wearing a sheer nylon bra, and he looked at the small dark nipples visible through the fabric. Melinda watched his eyes, saw the approval in them, and then she leaned back, tits lifting. Dave bent his head toward their twin thrusts and he began to lick her nipples and the sheer bra which covered them. Her tits were stiff and pointy against the nylon, and where they'd itched before, they now felt as if they'd been wrapped in poison ivy instead of clinging, caressing synthetic. Melinda began to hum and moan, wishing he'd get down to business. It had been such a long time since anyone had made love to her. But that was obviously about to change.

She pulled off the sweater while Dave played with her boobs, and then she removed her bra, her tits falling into sight, the flesh of them creamy with blue veins standing out in the milky curved skin, the dark nipples long and aching for affection. They were big tits, full and firm, the nipples pointing straight outward, and Dave filled his hands with them. Oh, Jesus God, Melinda thought, he made her feel so good when he squeezed her tits, when he flipped the nipples with his tongue, when he opened wide and chewed softly, provocatively on the ends of her breasts.

"Yessssss," she managed to moan, though it made her throat and chest ache with the need, the passion. "Your skirt," he said, and Melinda stood up so he could unbutton it. The skirt fell swirling to the floor and he cocked his head to one side. "Jesus," he said, "with legs like those, why do you wear skins below the knee?"

"It's fashion," she defended.

He stroked her thighs, and she began to sway on her feet. "Fuck fashion," smirked the detective. "Legs like these were meant to be seen."

"Speaking of fuck," Melinda put in. "I mean, Bogart did screw Bacall, didn't he?"

"If he didn't, I'm gonna find soothe hero." Dave hooked his thumbs in the wispy panties and tugged them down her legs. The stockings he left in place, and his eyes kept returning to them. So did his hands.

"Oh, damn it," Melinda gasped. She hopped onto the edge of the desk and sat with legs spread, pussy open. One of her hands thrust downward, into her crotch. She ran a fingertip across her slit, then parted the lips and fucked that finger into her cunt. Oh, Christ, she was wet and hot inside! "Come on!!!" she snapped. "If you'd been waiting as long as I have…"

"It's only been a minute," he countered, "and I'd like to get to know the territory."

"Well, for me, it's been six months?" Dave let go of her legs. "Six months?" He shook his head. "He hasn't done you in six fucking months? Oh, hell!"

He dropped to his knees and his head burrowed into her crotch. If Melinda hadn't jerked her finger from her pussy and pulled it away, he'd have bitten her.

He split the lips of her pussy with his fingers and almost as soon as the air touched Melinda's interior, she felt the flicking caress of Dave's tongue.

It went into her deeply, swiftly, and she moaned through chattering teeth, her lips almost numb with the excitement trembling in her body. Melinda opened her legs further and she clasped her bare breasts, squeezing them as they throbbed responsively. Her thighs undulated, especially when his medium-length, wiry hair brushed them while he worked, and it was an irresistible impulse, indeed, to bend her legs around Dave's head, to pull him into the eager maw of her snatch.

"My God," she whispered, "don't stopppp!!!" Melinda's emotions were already at boiling point. The very touch of his tongue was thrilling to her love-starved body, and it was so much more wonderful than the lonely masturbation with which she'd been forced to make do. "Oh, Jesus!" she cried.

His tongue was in her, snaking around wickedly, darting in and out of the cuntal opening. His fingers kept her splayed for Dave's oral attack, and the tips of his thumbs were nagging little goads at the base of her clitoris. He worked the sensitive flesh there while he licked the sensitive, responsive mouth of her twat, and occasionally his tongue shot northward to play provocatively upon the extended nub of her sex button. Each time he licked her there she moaned again, and her fingers squeezed at her tits and the upstanding nipples. Her breasts were hot and hard, throbbing, itching, and aching with the passion and desire that coursed through her neglected body.

Neil. She hated him. She despised him. How could he have deserted her bed for the pleasures of his barely pubescent mistress? God, did she compare so poorly to Kathy? Dave apparently didn't think so. His mouth was hungry and greedy, licking, tonguing, slurping, devouring her pussy, and already his lips and chin must be coated with the milky discharge of her cunt. She could feel juices flowing inside her body, feel them oozing to the mouth of her puss, and Dave's face groveled in those hot drippings. Oh, dear God, the sounds he made she packed on her! And the sounds her own mouth made, too! "Aaaaaaahhhhiieeeeeee!!!" Melinda wailed, her legs thrashing, tightening on his neck. Oh, God, she'd drown him in the musky creams of her cunt! She'd pull him into her pussy and feed him woman's cum till it was running out his Goddamned ears!

"Mmmmmmmmm," he crooned as his mouth continued to dine upon her gash. The hum of his voice vibrated throughout Melinda, up the channel to her ovaries, and from there, everywhere. She scarcely realized that her ass was bobbing up and down on the edge of the desk, that she was cunt-fucking his face with a vehemence, a blistering passion she had forgotten she was capable of displaying.

And through it all his tongue kept ramming up her cunt tube, so deeply it made her shiver, so expertly her creams flowed in ever-greater abundance, till the hair around her slit was sticky with her juice and his saliva. His thumbs kept pressuring the nub of her clit, too, until that tender organ ached from abuse but whimpered for more, more, more…

"Ohhh!" she wailed, hands sliding on her tits, now so sweat-greasy she could hardly hold onto them any longer. Her fingers fastened upon the nipples, which felt a mile long and hard as steel, and she squeezed, not caring if spurts of delirious sex-pain shot through her breasts and hammered into the base of her brain. "Suck meeee… suck me!!" she moaned, rocking her legs, making his face ram her pussy even as her pussy rammed to meet his face.

Somehow he fought his mouth free of her cunt, and she winced in sudden fear that he had decided to stop short. A massive orgasm lay just around the bend for Melinda. She could feel it. She could even smell it, in the heavy musk of the juices oozing from her snatch. "N-n-noooooo!!" she cried, hands leaving her tits, making for Dave's ears. "Do me some more! Do me some more, Goddamn it!"

He looked up, grinning, and it was as if he were peeling away the surface, looking beneath, at the real Melinda Stillman, the cunt-dominated creature whose needs he'd awakened. "Hey, baby," he told her, and his finger shot into her pussy, barreling deeply.

"Aaaagggghhhhh!!" Melinda yelped, arching to meet the thrust. Her head shot back and her eyes mapped shut, and it was so much more satisfying to have his finger poking in a cunt that had known satisfaction only from her own finger for so Goddamned, frustratingly long a time…

His fingers were bigger than hers, bigger, more filling, and when he added two more to the one already in her, it was nearly as sweet as being stuffed with a fat prick. Melinda twisted her ass on the edge of the desk, moving this way and that, wallowing his digits with her snapping cuntal muscles, milking them the way she'd milk a cock if she could ever get one inside her again.

"Fuck me," she groaned. "Fuck me with your cock, not your fingers. Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"

He kissed her clit while his fingers reamed her cunt, and it has a hot, wet, lingering kiss that seemed to stretch her tingly, aching nub, that sent piercing quivers of delight all through Melinda. She rocked and bounced, the polished mahogany desk heating beneath her ass, and she could feel warm sticky juices on her flesh, pouring from her pussy with vigor and abundance, more and more as he played with her, teased her, fingered her pussy toward the release that would come like an atomic blast when – if – it ever came.

She was almost numb with pulsating need. The only live portion of Melinda's body was the tube of her pussy, and every inch of that shivered and tingled with feeling. All her sensation had concentrated itself there, and the rest of her was only a vessel to contain, to sustain that intensity of emotion. Eyes still shut tightly, she fucked her pussy with his hand, determined to suck from his fingers every ounce of delight she could get.

Her heels bumped against the sides of the desk, and only then did she realize that she wasn't leg-locking Dave Hammett any longer. He was rising slowly to his feet, and she could feel his body lifting, though his fingers continued to ram and stab into her cunt. Melinda opened her eyes cautiously, frothy bubbles forming on her lips as saliva coated her breathing, and she saw that Dave was standing now, that he was using his free hand to undo the belt and zipper of his pants.

Out, into the light of day, he dragged it – his cock – oh, God, she thought, his cock! It was a beautiful specimen of the male organ, too, and nothing at all, really, like her husband's. Neil's organ was long and thick, fattest at its bulbous tip; Dave's prick was more reminiscent of a punch-tool – large at the base, tapering to a narrower point. About wren inches long, she estimated, though it was no time for sober analysis. All that counted was that Dave Hammett possessed a cock and, in a very few moments, her pussy too would possess that cock, even if only for, a short time. God grant it would be long enough to give her the satisfaction for which her entire body screamed madly.

"Yes," Melinda whispered, reaching boldly to touch his penis. Ooooh, Jesus, it was hot as fire, the skin of it slick coating for a bone-hard inner structure! She locked her fingers around the thick base, then slid them back toward herself, sliding lastly over the small but plush glands. Dave moaned as in fingers lingered there, squeezing, entreating, and he leaned into Melinda. The head of his dong touched the widely split mouth of her pussy, and she felt him already pushing, as if he meant to drive it up her right now, without any further ado.

"Nowwwww," she whispered, just as his face came down to kiss hers. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, felt him suck it, then withdrew and allowed him to reciprocate with his own. At the sac time, Melinda reached again, grabbing Dave's cock. He twisted, made himself fully available, and she planted his tip on the open gash. He thrust, but so did Melinda, and it was a mutual, dual effort that carried him into her churning cuntal sheet.

Oh, dear God, way they fit together!

Melinda swallowed him with sucking vaginal hiccups, and within a split second he was in her to the root, fucking like a wild man. She felt him bang his groin against her snatch five or six times in such rapid succession it was difficult to tell where one stroke ended and the next began, and his base ground against her swollen, wet pussy lips. The lowered tab of his zipper scratched slightly when he was fully immersed in her, but it was an interesting kind of scratch, one that made Melinda's pussy quiver and twitch and bang against him in a masochistic quest for more of the same. And she could feel a hug swollen pair of balls straining behind the tight fabric of Dave's pants, a pair of stones that promised her – that guaranteed her – the imminent, intoxicating prospect of a pussy shot floodtide full of hot sticky cum. Melinda moaned, and she raised her legs, locking them around Dave's body as he groined and fucked and fucked and groaned.

The shape of his prick acted as an extra turn-on. He could fuck deeply, while the thicker dimension of his cock base did marvelous, exciting things to the supersensitive shallow portion of her vagina the area nearest the mouth. And when he was in her to the root and rotating his body against hers, so that his dick moved in sexy semi-circles…!! She clamped her legs a little tighter, anchoring her heels just behind his knees, and she strained her pussy upward to meet his thrusts, to swallow his pecker gluttonously.

"Your husband ought to be hung up by his balls if he has any." Dave had her by the tits now, and it was obvious that he took strong delight in the way her lush boobs spilled over his clutching hands, the fly ha hot hard nipples burned into his palms. Melinda took equally strong delight and she wasn't shy about displaying it.

"The hell with my husband! What kind of balls do you have?"

Oh, Jesus, she was getting hotter and hotter! Her pussy was on fire, and her womb felt as if it had just upended. A groan caught in Melinda's throat and she thought she might choke on it. She coughed and moaned again, and her pussy moved with grater determination, savage in its need for climax.

"Oh fuck me hard and deep," she murmured, clutching him with arms, with legs, and, most passionately of all, with every inch and ounce of her sopping, sucking cunt.

"Try this," Dave panted, and he drove his prick into her with a fury that surpassed even his previous efforts. He thrust hard, burying his tool in her tunnel, and he quivered against her, soaking himself in the sticky musk of her juices, and Melinda gasped in appreciation. Her legs shot straight out, toes wiggling, and he moved again, slamming it up her once more.

Then he moaned "Chriiiiiisssstttttt…" for that last stroke had carried him beyond the limits of his endurance. He embraced Melinda, hands diving down to entrap her buttocks and lift her into the impalement of his prick, and then, moist bunts of air whooshed from his mouth as his cock began to empty itself inside Melinda's cunt.

She felt him coming, squirt after squirt of cum blasting from the tip of his pecker, deep in her snatch, and the feeling was fantastic. Each separate eruption jolted through Melinda, and she rocked about, savoring the seismic quivers. Warm liquids boiled in her belly, her heart skipped a telltale beat, and Melinda shrieked, "Oooohhhhhhhh – I'm cooommmmmmmmiiinnngggggg toooooooo!!!" She'd almost forgotten how it felt to erupt into orgasm with a hard cock spurting in her tight-snapping pussy, but as the incredible pleasure took charge of her body, Melinda remembered, and she was positive she'd never be so forgetful again. The mouth of her pussy was scraped nearly raw by the thick, wedging presence of Dave's cock, while hot cum flew in a non-stop river up the tube of her vagina, into the snapping maw of her uterus.

And her pussy reacted ecstatically, exploding in ripples and contractions that squeezed and tensed Dave's cock, sucking more and more cum from its eager tip. Oh, God, the way he shot his seed! His balls jerked inside his pants – she could feel them where he ground against her – and he fired off salvo after salvo of boiling man's milk. She could see his face paling till it was nearly as white as the juice he poured into her pussy, but still she could feel his cock going off, going off, going off, another volcanic eruption, another…

Cum flowed from her pussy where there was no extra room inside her for it to stay, and the hot stuff ran into the crack of her ass, collected on his pants where he still pressed her. Melinda screamed in a muted voice, a sob choking off the cries as if there was a limit even to the out pouring of delight, and she felt her body responding in kind to his orgasm. Her first climax spent itself and she rocked back, ass twitching on the desktop, only to find a second come bubbling in her loins.

Melinda cried, "Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!" and fucked at him, and the second come became a third, and a fourth, and though his cock had finally ceased to spit semen up her pussy, she continued to explode with uncontrollable tremors.

"Keep going baby," he grinned, "and I'll be ready to fuck you all over again."

His cock refused to soften, despite the massive amount of come he'd fucked into her. How could he go soft? Melinda's pussy was vibrantly alive, milking him, shuddering its convulsions up and down the fully-imbedded barrel of his tool, and the stimulation was too strong for Dave's organ to ignore. He groaned, as if the effort of staying erect pained the hell out of him, but he kept working his prick in her, too, and her multiple climaxes became even more multiple.

But it had to cease, eventually. And Melinda was dripping with sweat, her pussy a swamp of leaked-out cum and aching nerves, when the last rippling contraction flowed and ebbed.

She sank back, panting like a winded dog, and her head swam giddily. Dave had her by the shoulders, keeping her up, and his cock eased from her pussy. It was as if his prick realized that its job was complete for the moment. She looked down at the white-stained dick as it emerged, and she giggled like a schoolgirl to see it wilt in the open air. At tiny drip of cum formed on the tip of him as he diminished, and she watched as that droplet fell unheeded to the floor below. Melinda reached down to touch her pussy, but she pulled her fingers away almost immediately, for she ached so, sooooo much…

"But such a lovely aching," she cooed, offering him her mouth. His kiss intensified that ache, made it lovely, sweet, a pleasure beyond compare. His kiss took her breath away, and it was a winded, fully satiated Melinda who eased out of Dave Hammett's embrace. Her body was exhausted but fulfilled, and a warm, pink flush suffused her everywhere that counted. The juice of their mutual come was thick and sticky, coating the lips of Melinda's cunt, dripping lazily down the sleek insides of her thighs, and she rubbed a hand across that swampy sex jungle, puffing with delight at how sweet it felt to be stroking a pacified pussy.

Her legs were rubbery, the knees weak, and almost as soon as she sidled past Dave and stood up, she realized that the act was a trifle premature. She eased against him as he tucked his cock back inside his pants and it felt just as sweet to be braced by his male presence in the afterglow of fucking.

"That was insane," she told him breathlessly. "Absolutely insane. But I loved it. God, I needed it!"

Dave slipped his arm around her. A big brother might embrace a little sister in just that way – particularly if she'd only just finished slipping her a big chunk of meat and filling her little snatch with hot juicy cum. Melinda had never had a brother but now she knew how it would feel to have one, and she liked it. Incestuously.

"If that's any sample of what your husband is catting around on," Dave sighed, "he ought to have his balls cut off. With a dull, rusty-bladed knife. In fact, if I can find one…"

Melinda's face clouded. The act of screwing had been so pleasant, so all-engrossing after Neil's recent loss of interest, that many of the basic considerations had become obscured. At least temporarily. But now her head was clearing and she could see it all a little more sharply.

To begin, she bad just seen incontrovertible proof that her husband was keeping a mistress on the side, that his mistress was quite young, quite attractive, and quite responsive sexually – so much so that Neil had relegated his wife to the back burners of his mind. His affair had evidently been going on for the past half-year and he'd been lying to her in an effort to keep her from getting suspicious. That was unforgivable. Wasn't it?

But on the other hand she herself had just committed an act of adultery, the very first of her life. And with the man who had exposed Neil's duplicity to her. Oh God, what an act of adultery, too!! Her cunt still dripped a mixture of her cum and his, and she knew without looking that the lips of her pussy were red and inflamed from the dynamite cock that had been thrust into the churning, love-starved maw of her snatch. And the orgasms – she'd lost count before they stopped, but she couldn't recall ever coming so many times in rapid succession, so many that retaining consciousness had been nearly impossible. "Oh, my God, Dave," she said then. "What ant I going to do?"

"Do? About what?"

"About Neil. My husband. Remember him? God, the reason I came here in the first place…"

"You could always divorce him," Dave suggested. "That tape gives you enough pounds in this state. Or any other state in the union. Get a good lawyer, take him to court, and send him packing. And when you dump him, well… I mean, we click together. I knew we would as soon as I put my hands on you, and if you were mine, Melinda Stillman, I damn sure wouldn't drop you flat for the first hot young piece that twitched ass in my direction. I know a good thing when I stick my cock into it, and you're a damned good thing. If you were a free woman, I'd shack up with you… Christ, I think I'd marry you! I must be…"

"Very sweet," she said, kissing him. "But it's more complicated than that, Dave. Life always is. Yes, we, click, as you put it. But Neil and I have been married four years, and he and I used to click, too. I married him because I loved him and – despite the videotape you showed me, despite the rest of what you showed me – I'm not sure that I don't still love him."

"Low?"

"You don't fall out of it overnight, let alone in a single afternoon. Oh, damn it, I have to think, to talk it over with myself, to… talk it over with Neil, toe, for God's sake. I owe him that much."

Melinda straightened up. Her legs were stronger now, and she could stand unaided. Dave handed her the under things he'd stripped away and she eased into them as he watched. His eyes were bright, and it gave Melinda a kind of pleasure to see the interest, the appreciation with which he surveyed her half-clad body, the body he'd just finished fucking into a long-denied nirvana. Well, he'd copped her extramarital cherry, and she could never forget the excitement his cock and mouth had brought her. No matter what happened between her and Neil.

"Hem," she said, stopping, retrieving the check that had slipped to the floor when Dave was making his initial pass at her. "And thank you."

Dave shook his head solemnly. "I don't want your money," he announced. She forced the check into his fingers but he took it only to tear it into pieces, which he poured into a nearby ashtray alongside several cigarette butts. Melinda smiled. It was a sweet gesture. He was a sweet man. Probably a nice man. She doubted if he had Neil's duplicity in him but…

"I'd like to see you again," Dave added. "Soon."

"I can't promise anything. Not until I've cleared the air with Neil. Well, this is Friday. He's probably seeing Kathy after work, so I'll have till eight or nine to mange my thoughts." It would be a difficult night, she was already aware. But it had to be done. She had to tell him that she knew, that she didn't like what he was doing. And then?

And then it was all up to Neil. He couldn't keep on dividing his life between a wife and a mistress. She'd make that very elm to him, she'd demand that he come to a decision. Oh, God – four years of marriage, four years of love. Would he throw it all away for a piece of lithe blonde fluff? Or had he already done that? She'd never forget, as long as she lived, the way his lips moved on the soundless videotape when he told Kathy that he loved her.

If I were Susan Hayward in an old movie, she thought, I'd know what to do. If I were Bette Davis, I'd fight for my man. But this wasn't an old movie, and she was only Melinda Stillman, a lady who had been summarily rejected by her husband for another woman. Melinda Stillman, who had just been made fantastic love to by another man, as adulterous a connection as Neil's affair with pretty blonde Kathy.

"That makes it more difficult," she murmured as she got into the elevator. It had been exciting with Dave, being fucked as she sat on the edge of his desk, her pussy a sucking conduit for his cock and its boiling load of cum. Not even with Neil had she ever know precisely that kind of excitement.

Oh, she was still too worked up to think properly. First she ought to go home, take a nice hot bath, and have a nice cold drink. By the time Neil returned this evening she'd know what to say to him. Right now, all she knew was that she had to tell him something. Their relationship couldn't go on as it had gone, now that she knew what he was doing. God, she prayed, don't let me blow it! Show me the way! Help me get it straight!

CHAPTER FIVE

Neil was already home when she got there.

Melinda gasped in astonishment at the sight of his car in the driveway and she wondered what in hell could be wrong. He quarreled with Kathy?

Maybe the pretty young blonde's period had started without warning? Whatever the reason, her husband had obviously come straight home from the office, and it fucked up all of Melinda's plans. She wasn't ready to confront him with her knowledge of his guilt. She needed time to work out the scenario, so she could manipulate it to her best advantage. Oh, damn it to hell! she thought, going into the house.

"Hello, darling," she said evenly, hoping that the anger in her mind didn't show in her voice. He had the balls to look so calm and innocent, too, when only last night he'd fucked Kathy, told her he loved her, romped with her on that big brass bed, its posts shaking as the tempo of lovemaking mounted. She wanted to claw his eyes out, rip his deceptive heart from his cheating body. "I didn't expect you home so soon," she added. "I've been… shopping. Dinner isn't ready…"

Neil smiled. "It's okay, hon. I'm just here for a pit stop. Mr. Shepherd caught me by surprise today. He asked me to go up to New York for a mini-convention this weekend, and I really couldn't refuse. I'm just picking up some things to take along…" He held up his suitcase.

All sweetness, she thought, all honey and pie with whipped cream on top. If I was that bitch Kathy, he'd have me on the floor already, my skirt up and my pants down. Oh, I hope he came down with swine flu! It would be such poetic justice!

"Well," she said. "I'll run up and grab what I need. Are we staying at the Plaza, as usual?"

Neil colored. She'd taken him by surprise. Score two points for Melinda. "Huh? Oh. Yeah, the Plaza, but… uh, I'm afraid…" Here it comes, Melinda thought. "You see, I, uh, have to catch the next plane, so I can go over notes with Mr. Shepherd… about the approach we're going to take when we get there, you know? And it's leaving in just about twenty minutes. I'm late as it is… heavy traffic, and there was a two-car collision which slowed things down to a crawl…"

"Oh, that's all right," Melinda cut in. "I really didn't want to go. I should defrost the refrigerator this weekend." He seemed to like that. Apparently he didn't know that their fridge was the modem kind, self-defrosting.

And how much of the rest of it was true? Was he really going to New York? He had his suitcase. Surely he wouldn't employ such a clumsy lie so he could go shack up with Kathy and rattle that brass bed all weekend? Maybe he was in earnest. Maybe he had a plane to catch and just couldn't wait for her to get packed. Maybe.

"Well, be good," she told him, tiptoeing to kiss his mouth. His lips were dry and cool, stiff where hers touched them. Not at all like the kisses she'd traded with Dave Hammett this afternoon. It was as if Neil had become a different person, one who no longer responded to the woman he had married four years ago. Melinda felt a chill in her body as she looked at her husband's face. She wondered if there was anything left for them.

He hurried to the car, and she stood watching from the doorway. Oh, shit! He wouldn't be home till Sunday. When would she be able to collar him for that necessary conference on his secret life? The knowledge rankled in her bosom. Could she stand a weekend of keeping it there, locked up inside?

Or – and her hands began to shake a little – did it mean anything after all? Neil had cheated on her, lied to her. Perhaps he was lying to her now, gone to a rendezvous with his mistress instead of to a business convention.

She went to the bar and pawed herself a very stiff Canadian-and-water, heavy on Canadian, light on water. It warmed her somewhat, and she had another. While she was sipping the second drink, an idea occurred to Melinda. She finished the drink in a gulp and hurried to the telephone.

The girl handling the reservation desk at the airport confirmed that Mr. and Mrs. Stillman's tickets for New York were all in order, which the plane would be leaving in about half an hour. Melinda felt a cold gorge in liar throat. He'd even lied to her about takeoff time. And a ticket for Mrs. Stillman? Who else could it be but blonde, pert Kathy? The real Mrs. Stillman was sitting in her lonely house, demeaning herself by checking up on an errant husband.

"If he's taken her on the plane with him," Melinda mused, "then he probably has a hotel room for her too." Neil had been a little nonplussed when site mentioned the Plaza. Odds were that he had reservations there. Well, she could find out.

"Yes," said the desk clerk, "the suite for Mr. and Mrs. Stillman is ready."

"Goddamn it to hell!" Melinda snapped as soon as she'd broken the connection. She slammed down the telephone receiver. She and Neil had stayed at the Plaza on their honeymoon four years ago. They'd also stayed there the first time they went to New York, before their marriage. She closed her eyes, remembering the view of Central Park you got from the Plaza. This time of year the Park was gorgeous, the spring leaves beginning to green, flowers dotting colorfully in the grass, kites, sailboats floating across the lake, young couples strolling hand in hand. Not to mention the muggers, the flashers, the soapbox orators, and all the other weirdo's and perverts who made New York Fun City U.S.A.

But. Neil and Kathy wouldn't have time for that vista of Central Park. If the videotape she'd seen was any indication, they would probably spend most of their weekend getting good use out of one of the Plaza's spacious, comfortable beds. At least they didn't shake and rattle the way Kathy's brass bedstead did when it hosted a hearty round of fucking.

Not until she felt nails digging into her palm was Melinda Stillman aware that she had clenched a furious fist, that she was hammering that fist upon her knee. She looked down at it, seeing the white of her bent knuckles.

"What's wrong with me?" she asked herself. "I'm an attractive woman, I'm at the height of my sexuality. But my husband has gone off to spend the weekend in New York with another woman. While I sit here fretting because I didn't get the chance to tell him I know he's an adulterer."

And her hand unclasped then as she tilted her head to one side. She remembered vividly the other night with Neil, when she'd dolled herself up in the hope of seducing him, when she'd failed so miserably. Well, how could she help but fail? He'd spent the early part of the night screwing his Kathy; he had nothing left to give his wife. Anger swept over Melinda in a furious tide.

"Well, Goddamn it," Melinda addressed the empty room, "I didn't drive him to another woman! He went of his own free will. He had a choice, and he chose Kathy. There's nothing wrong with me, and none of this is my fault. Why should I suffer, mentally or physically, because that bastard came down with a case of the four-year-itch?"

She picked up the telephone and dialed Dave Hammett's office. The detective had proven himself to be all man this afternoon. If he was interested in a return engagement, so was she. But there was no answer.

Melinda grabbed the phone book and leafed through it. There was no listing for him, except the agency. Didn't he have a home phone?

"All right, Dave," her voice quavered. "You had first crack. But Neil isn't the only man in the world, and neither are you. I don't intend to go to bed alone. Not tonight. If my husband can go catting, so can I." She had another drink to seal the bargain, then went upstairs to take a bath, change her clothes, fix her face and hair. If she was going to hunt a man, she ought to look her very best.

"It still seems too good to be true," he said, undoing his tie. Melinda stretched on the bed, hap behind her neck. She shook her hair sensuously, then extended one foot toward him. Her toes crawled up and down his thigh. "I mean, Jesus," he went on, "here I am, sitting in a bar, minding my own business, a stranger in a strange town. And you show up. Sit down beside me, ask all pretty-please if I'd buy you a drink. And now here we are at the Holiday Inn and you're feeling my leg and sexy enough to give a hard-on to that statue of William Penn downtown, and you say you're not a hooker, that this isn't gonna cost me a cent. I just don't get it"

"There's nothing to get," Melinda soothed, her toes drifting into the crotch of his pants.

He turned, saying, "Don't do that, baby. I'm on a short enough fuse the way it is," but he didn't step back, out of her reach. Instead he reached down, caught her ankle, and ground the sole of her foot against his pants and his pecker blossoming inside. "Mmmmm, that feels good, baby," he complimented, and Melinda stretched her leg for his benefit. If he were looking – and he was – he could see all the way up her thighs to the scandalously sheer pair of bikini pants she wore under her short skirt. Hair and flesh showed through thorn panties, she was aware. And so was he.

"Is it the badger game?" he went on. "I read a book the other day, a porno novel, about this girl who worked that racket. She'd take a guy to a motel room and start to ball him, and then somebody would break in and tell the john that the girl was underage, he was gonna call the cops, that whole bit. It that what's gonna happen? Somebody come in here and threaten to bring down the pigs unless I pay him a lot of cash? Hmmmm?"

Melinda laughed. "I'm definitely not underage," she promised. "Can't you just take me at face value? My name's Melinda and I'd rather sleep with someone than go to bed alone. And tonight, I'd like to sleep with you. I don't have any ulterior motives. Unless you count fucking your brains out."

He blushed. Maybe he'd never heard a woman say "fuck" before. A lot of men hadn't. But the blush was cute, and she wiggled her foot against his dick for good measure.

He wasn't really Melinda's type. If she had a type. She wasn't sure she did. She hadn't been with all that many men. Ron was on the short side, funny-faced rather than handsome, with a bald spot at his crown and the rest of his hair receding to meet it. She supposed he was in his early thirties, possibly a traveling salesman of some sort. He'd looked lonely, sitting at the bar, though, and tonight she was very much aware of what loneliness, desertion, could feel like. So she'd gone to him, instead of to one of the younger studs in the room. Anyway – he was only to be the first of a long chain. What had Dave Hammett said, explaining Neil's behavior? That men were basically polygamous animals while women adhered to monogamy? Well, by God, Melinda Stillman could be as polygamous as any man alive, if she wanted to be. Her husband found satisfaction with another woman? She knew how to strike back. She'd become the bluest fucking female Mormon alive.

"Hurry up and undress," Melinda purred. "I want to see your body. I'll bet it's dynamite." She let her foot fall away, then sat up on the bed, lips opened into a smile, waiting Ron laughed awkwardly. "Even if I was in shape," he said, "I wouldn't make more than a firecracker. Oh, Jesus, I feel like a Goddamned dummy. I know that as soon as I get my cock out, you're going to clamp your legs shut and not open them up again till I fork over fifty dollars. Fifty? Hell, you look like at least a hundred dollars' worth."

Melinda flushed, but not with anger. He'd paid her a very pretty compliment. What woman wouldn't like to think herself worth a hundred dollars a lay, on the open market. But he seemed so tense, so nervous. If he kept on at this rate, he might not be able to perform tonight at all. And if she wasn't going to be fucked by a stranger, why had she bothered coming to Ron's motel room in the first place?

"Maybe this will prove something," she suggested, a throaty hint of invitation in her voice. Melinda dismounted from the bed, walking shoeless over the soft carpeting, and she stopped about two feet beyond lion. "Watch very carefully," she purred, taking hold of the top button of her blouse.

She undid it casually but determinedly, one button at a time, allowing the shin to fall open of its own volition. The bra-covered mounds of her tits thrust out at him, and her dark nipples were faintly visible through the clinging nylon. Her tits were erect, and their points were more than faintly on display. She stroked herself for a moment, fingers dwelling on her nipples, and it felt very strange, very nice, to be touching her body this way in front of a man she'd only just met.

She wiggled her shoulders and the blouse fell away. Ron's eyes widened at the sight of her creamy flesh, in such pretty contract to the skimpy beige bra, and she heard him whistle. "There's more, tiger," she told him, unbuttoning her skirt it dropped to her feet, and she stepped out of the fallen pile.

Now Melinda was wearing only her underwear and stockings, and her under things were more than they concealed. She'd bought them for Neil's benefit, but he seemed to have other things on his mind lately, so a stranger would have to reap the visual joys of her matching bra and panties. Which Ron seemed to be doing, in a big way. The front of his trousers was really tented out now, thrusting with the weight of a growing erection.

"DO you like it?" she asked. "It can be yours, and it won't cost you anything except a little effort, darling. All you have to do…" she moved toward him, her hands extended, ready to snake him into her embrace, "…all you have to do is make violent, mad love to me, right on that sweet, soft bed. But I know something that isn't sweet and soft. In fact, it's as violent and mad as it can be. Can you guess what I'm thinking of, darling?"

He groaned, terrifically, as Melinda oozed against him and her almost naked body touched his. She rubbed the growing bulge in his pants with her thighs and tummy, and she was a little sorry that her fingers found him to be on the flabby side, though he wasn't fat. But there would be plenty of time for Melinda to try on for size the young men, hard-muscled, with broad shoulders and year-round tans.

The most surprising part was how easy it all came to her. She'd thought it would be difficult, to say the least, picking up a man, fucking him in cold blood as a kind of revenge on her cheating husband. But it wasn't difficult at all. She seemed to know exactly what to say, how to act and Ron was so sweet in his confusion and uneasiness. Turning him on, keeping him turned on, and using him challenged and enthralled Melinda. Oh, did it ever!! She pound her cunt against him, then stepped back.

"Now it's up to you," she said. "Undress me with your hands. Strip away my underwear. Make me naked."

"Oh, shit," Ron moaned, but when he got his fingers on her there was no stopping him. He pulled the cups of her bra downward, till her tits with their small but darkly erect nipples spilled over in a double flood of white, inviting skin. Melinda had to show him the little hook between her boobs. He undid it and the bra fell away. "Oh, my God," he said, staring at her tits, drool foaming on his lips.

His hands came up to seize them, and Melinda groaned at the roughness of his caress. "God, they're so big and hot," he told her, squeezing, stroking, pinching off nipples between his fingers. Melinda shifted her weight from foot to foot, and her tits lifted and fell in his clutching hands. In its own way, it was an exciting situation. She felt moisture farming on the lips of her twat, inside the tight-fitting nylon panties, and she was more and more anxious to see what other delights might enrich her body from this evening of adulterous adventure.

"My pants," she whispered, removing one of his hands from a tit, steering it down her body. "Why don't you take off my pants, too?"

Mi, Neil! Bouncing on a bed at the Plaza with his little blonde fluffy, no doubt. Assuming that his wife was sitting at home watching television, blissfully unaware that her husband was mixing business with pleasure this stolen weekend. She wished Neil were here to see this. Especially when Ron's hand stole into her skimpy panties and took a big fistful of dark pussy hair and the damp cuntal silt hidden inside, "Aaaaaaahhhhhh…" Melinda groaned and thrust against his clutching hand, dripping her juices upon his palm and fingers. "Aaaaaaaahhhhh!"

Ron was shrinking. Wasn't he? He'd been looking wistfully into her eyes, but now she could see only the top of his head, the bald patch at the crown. He had his tongue out, and it was licking a path down the slope of her tits, just like a skier. Aaggghhh!! He'd found her nipple!

"Suck it," Melinda panted as the nipple swelled and extended in his mouth. "Suck it for me, nil nice and sweet… I feel like a mother nursing a darling little baby." Perhaps if they'd had children, she and Neil mightn't have gotten into this miserable mess. But neither of them wanted to be tied down so early in their marriage. So maybe it was for the best. If the marriage broke up because of Neil's philandering, because of her own method of getting revenge, children would only be an encumbrance in divorce court. And besides – even a famished baby could suck tit with as much charming eagerness as Ron showed right now.

His hand was still busy in her pants, feeling her cunt, a finger or two sliding up and down the vaginal crease, in, out, in, out, till Melinda was heaving and sighing against the man. "Fuck me with your finger," she whispered. "Slick it in. All the way in. I love it when you touch me. God, I love it!"

She wasn't lying. It had been a long time since strange fingers had explored her cunt. The session with Dave Hammett this afternoon had been fantastic, but she had six months of neglect to make up for, and if Ron's fingers could help, they were Goddamned welcome to do it.

He sucked both her tits, chewed on the ends of them, bit and sucked and nibbled and lipped the nipples until Melinda felt woozy all over, and still she was sorry when his mouth finally abdicated the chore and he dropped both hands to her panties. He took hold of the waistband and pulled it down as he dropped to his knees, and Melinda felt cool air touch her bush as the panties descended.

Ron was staring at her cunt. "Jesus, it's beautiful," he whispered reverently. Melinda looked down at the kneeling man, and she saw the overhead light glint slightly on his bald spot.

"Yes," she agreed, "and it's yours, if you want it. Kiss me! Oh, God, kiss me!"

He raised his face and started to rise, but Melinda touched the top of his head. "No," she said. "Kiss my pussy. It needs loving too."

Ron made a face, as if he weren't sure. But that frown turned into a pucker, very quickly, and he slammed his mouth against her groin. She felt his lips on her sopping heat. His mouth fluttered, and she thought he might have used his tongue once or twice, but it was too quick to be sure. Obviously he wasn't used to giving head to a woman, she realized with a little regret, and she loosened the grip of her hands on him.

He settled back, gasping. "I don't want to eat," he sighed, "I want to fuck. But it's still too Goddamned good to be true."

"Is it?" Melinda panted. "Take off your clothes and find out for sure, tiger."

She walked past him, hips swaying perhaps a bit more than normal, and she sank onto the bed. Her long legs stretched, partly open, and the puffy swell of her pubic hair was aimed at Ron's uncertain face. Melinda pouted her lips and reached into her crotch, fingers delving through the bush, finding the wet lips of her cunt, and slipping inside. "Ohhhhhhhh…" she moaned, flogging herself wickedly. "Hurry! Or I'll just have to start without you."

She'd never seen a man undress so fast. Ron tore the buttons off his shirt, trying to get out of it, and he almost stumbled over the pants, fallen to his ankles, which he didn't bother stepping out of.

His body, as her instinct had told her, wasn't too great. On the skinny side, pale, with a swelling of potbelly round the middle. He should join a good health club, and soon, she thought. Do wonders for him. Maybe if he were in better shape he wouldn't be so insecure about being picked up by strange women in bars.

But his cock was rampantly erect, all six and a half inches or so, and the tip was fat and juicy. His nuts were small, tightly enclosed in their sac, and they jiggled, as did his prick, when he came to join her on the bed. He settled down beside her, Melinda making mom for him, and she reached for his cock at the same moment their lips met.

The only cocks she could remember with any clarity were Neil's and Dave Hammett's, and this one didn't match either. It was rather slender, though big at the knob, and not as long as her husband's or her first lover's. But it was a cock, damn it, hard and red, and there was no reason why it couldn't slip into her pussy and fuck her till cum overflowed her silted lips. No reason at all, she thought, feeling it throb and pulsate in her fist. No reason at all.

He was sucking her breast again, mouth flying from one to the other, and she kept squeezing his cock in her fist. "Fuck me, hmmmmmm?" she cooed to the top of his head.

"Oh, shit, yes," he groaned, working her legs further apart by sliding his own between them. Melinda still had him by the pecker, and she brought the tip of his dong to rest on the widening lips of her twat. Her hand forced it up and down, along the creased slice, and her moisture flowed out to coat him in its sticky warmth. Ron thrust at her, anxious to bury his dick in her sopping tunnel, but she wiggled her ass and eased away from him.

"Not yet," she said. "First you have to get all greased and juicy. Your cock is so big, I'm afraid it'll tear me apart, otherwise." It wasn't true, but it had a brilliant effect on Ron. He reared back, seeming to grow at least a couple of feet in height, and his face broke into a smug, confident smile. Good, Melinda thought. The more masculine he feels, the better he'll be when it gets down to fucking business. She soaked his cock in her juices, ten looked at him all wide-eyed and anxious. "Now," she whispered. "Stick it in me now. Fuck me, darling. Fuck me till I screw for mercy."

"Bet your Goddamned ass!!" he shouted, pushing her down upon the bed. Melinda sprawled beneath him, her legs angling out, ass drawing back as he lined up his cock with her twat and began to shove it up her.

He went in quickly, hard, deep, and she moaned in delight. God, it felt so good to be screwed by someone who meant business! This was her second time today, but a dozen more wouldn't begin to make up for the shameful, callous neglect her husband had been showing her the last several months. Still, it was a beginning and it damned sure wasn't the end!

As soon as he was in her she wrapped her legs around him, anchoring them inside his thighs, and she looked up at his face. "This had better be good," she said, "because you don't get loose until I've gotten my rocks off. At least twice. So fuck for all you're worth, baby."

His answer was a deep, hard thrust of his stiff pecker, a thrust that awakened old memories in Melinda, made her cry out in joy.

She bounced up to meet him, and her hands enfolded him just as her legs had already done. God, she thought, it's perfect! He's fucking me because he wants to, because I want him to. So go ahead, Neil Stillman. Screw the ass off your little blonde twinky, you son of a bitch. You gave up more woman than you could ever handle, and I hope you're happy, wherever you are, whatever you're doing. I know that I am.

"Stick me," she grinned. "Stick me with your fat hard cock, you sexy devil, you!" A come was building in her guts, a come stirred from the thrill of a stiff prick, the excitement of adultery, the stereotypical atmosphere of this motel room. And, not least of all, the obvious excitation of her pickup partner. God, he was fucking like a hurricane! She wondered how long he'd been on the road, how long since he'd scored a piece of juicy cunt. Oh, she didn't want to know. The only thing that mattered a Goddamn was the prong he was feeding her hungry little pussycat. When she'd drained him, she'd find herself another man just as hot, just as horny. And after him, another. And after him…

CHAPTER SIX

Melinda listened a moment to Ron's snoring, then shook her head in disgust. What was wrong with him? Only two hardons in a night? Was that all he could manage? He'd dumped two boiling loads of cum into her uterus, but she still felt empty, wanting. And there he lay, snug under the covers, his dick a wilted little worm dangled across his drained scrotum.

"Well, the hell with you," she whispered, shutting out the light as she left the room. He'd wake up in the morning, she fantasized, and find her gone. Maybe he'd wonder all the rest of his life if she'd been real or just a figment of his imagination, a man on the road's hot wet dream of sex. She hoped so. Oh, Christ, the night was so young! It couldn't be much after eleven. If Ron was out for the duration, she fucking well wasn't. And where there was one man, there were bound to be more. As she went down the hall, Melinda spoke softly, "Neil, you bastard, I only wish you could see me."

Her car as parked in the lot outside. Fortunately she'd not left it at the bar where she'd met Ron. All she had to do now was hop into that car and drive round the city, looking…

Four blocks from the Holiday Inn, she saw a garish neon sign. DREAMLAND THEATER. FINEST ADULT ENTERTAINMENT. OPEN 24 HOURS. Melinda smiled to herself. A porno theater. She'd always been just a little curious about them but she'd never had the courage to go to one before. And Neil had never shown much interest. Well, she'd seen a porno tape this afternoon, at the detective's office. Why not lay her money down and take a look at some genuine pornographic movies? What could she lose? Melinda braked, cruised round the corner, and found a parking space.

A tied-out woman in her sixties was in the ticket window. She took Melinda's three dollars and handed her a ticket, but if she had any curiosity as to why an attractive woman wanted to see a dirty movie, she didn't betray it. Melinda went inside, gave her ticket to a man who tore it in two, then directed her toward a velvety maroon curtain at the other end of the lobby.

Melinda stopped at the curtain, closing her eyes. It was an old trick of hers, one that allowed her eyes to become used to the darkness she'd find inside. That way, she wouldn't be blind when she went into the dark theater itself.

Eyes still closed, she pushed through the curtains. She could hear sounds – rock music, poorly recorded, and, mixed with that a series of groans and cries. Melinda opened her eyes.

She could see the interior of the projection area, but she could also see the large screen at the far end of the mom and, for a moment, she couldn't take her eyes away. There, in vivid color and telephoto close up, a large cock invaded a moist-looking, red-mouthed cunt. Melinda stopped at the head of the aisle she'd entered and she stared at the screen. My God, she thought. Is that how it looks?

The balls beneath the cock jiggled and quivered as the penis itself moved time and again into that yielding, accepting pussy, and Melinda watched entranced. She'd been fucked a great many times, but she'd never seen it recorded in such clinical, close up detail. The way the pussy lips moved with the invading penis. Tire milky moisture formed on the cock's barrel as it kept fucking. The way a few stray pussy hairs clung to the cock as it thrust in, broke away as it pulled out, joined it again for the inserting stroke. My God, my God, sang Melinda's brain. Dave Hammett ought to get shots like these.

The camera pulled back, and she saw the people whose private parts she'd already seen so intimately. The man was dark and hairy or an ape, the girl pale-skinned, fragile of face, but with saggy breasts and a slightly puffed belly that Melinda found rather unattractive. Still, they were fucking, on the big screen, and fucking very nicely. If they were aware of a camera a presence in the room with them, didn't advertise the fact. The girl's eyes were closed and her mouth was they in a continual moan of acceptant glee. The man played with her saw tits, his fingers pinching off the nipples. White streaks showed in her flesh where he fondled her, and she writhed against his penis with little twitches and wiggles that swallowed him time and again.

The soundtrack continued as before, while Melinda stood in the aisle, and though a man with pronounced body odor eased past her and out through the curtain, she didn't pay much attention to anything except the sight and sound ahead. "Ohhhh" and "Ahhhh" and "Mmmmmm" and "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me" emanated from the speakers, to the accompaniment of that tinny rock music, until there was a clang of cymbals and the man on screen dried his cock from his partner's clinging goo. Melinda's head eased to one side as she watched him fist his dick, shake it twice or thrice, and then spill cum all over the sag-titted girl's bush and belly.

He ejaculated in big lashings that streaked the girl's stomach, clung to her pubic fur. She reached down fingers puddling in the tuft. Some of it she massaged into her tits, some of it she scooped up with her hand, bringing it to her mouth where she licked it up avidly. Shit, thought Melinda. Why waste a big hot cum like that by spewing on her belly? Why not squirt it up her tits, where it belonged?

By now her eyes were totally adjusted to the lighting of the room and, since the scene had changed to the streets of New York, she looked about, in search of a seat.

The theater was sparsely attended this hour of the night. On old man appeared to be asleep. Two young blacks were conversing, down front in high-pitched voices that almost drowned the noise of cars onscreen. All in all, it was a sleazy-looking place, once she'd taken a look around, and she wondered why she'd bothered coming here.

Oh, what the hell? She didn't have anything better to do. Neil was in New York with his blonde floozy; Ron had dropped into dreamland after the second fuck. If she went home, she could only it sit around feeling sorry for herself. Here – who knew what could happen here? At the very least she could watch some fascinating film of people screwing. Melinda looked down on row of seats. About halfway down a man sat, coat thrown across his lap. Well, it was suitably close to the screen, yet not so close that the colors blended into blurry, eye straining melanges. She moved into the row and settled on the second seat from the aisle. I think I'm the only woman here, she reflected. A look around the room confirmed that she was right. Except for her, the theater was populated solely by men, most of them sitting in solitary isolation.

She eased back in her seat, crossed her legs, and devoted her attention to the screen. It was definitely educational, and she might even pick up a few tips from the movies.

Apparently the plot of the film in progress had something to do with a pair of sisters. One of them was a good girl, the other not so nice. The not-so-nice girl appeared to have much more fat. She was played by the saggy-breasted girl Melinda had already watched in the act of fucking, and, as her gaze returned to the screen, Melinda saw the girl enter a hotel room.

Two men were waiting for her, one of them very tall, very ugly, the other shorter, not quite so ugly. The dialogue was so forgettable Melinda had trouble following it as it was delivered, but in only a few heartbeats the girl had taken off her blouse, revealing the white, saggy breasts Melinda had noticed earlier, and each of them was captured in the mouth of one of the two men. Two men. What would, it be like, fucking two men? Melinda wondered idly. She stirred in her seat. Her ass felt a little warmer than it should.

Particularly when the girl unzipped the ugliest man's pants and hauled forth an incredibly long penis. My God! thought Melinda Stillman. Even soft, the cock looked a foot long. How could any woman handle such a prick without ripping herself apart?

The other man took out his dick and placed it alt the girl's upraised palm. It wasn't as big as his friend's – how could it be? The other man must have been desendant from a Goddamned stud horse, if his prick was any indication, but as the girl began to caress it with her hand, the dick started to grow and engorge. Erect, it must have measured eight inches, and it was erect almost before Melinda could appreciate its growth.

"I like the surprises you guys always have for me," the girl said. Her voice was shrill and nasal, very Brooklynish, and it grated on Melinda's ears. Luckily, the scriptwriter hadn't given her much dialogue to deliver. The girl knelt between the two men and, holding one cock in each hand, she began to lick them in alternation, her head shifting from side to side.

What a long tongue, thought Melinda, watching it drift across those two pecker points. The color wasn't great – the girl's tongue looked almost purple, as did the erected peckers – but the action was what counted. Melinda had never watched anyone suck or lick a prick before, and she watched with growing interest.

The girl grew more active. She took a prick into her mouth – the smaller one – and she sucked it furiously, head moving back and forth, half the eight inches disappearing between her lips. The camera was in close-up position, and nothing but cocks and mouth were on the screen. When she released the shorter dick, it was bubbly with her spit. Turning, she kissed the bigger penis on the tip, then opened her mouth and tried to take it in as she had the other.

It was a lost cause from the beginning. Long, the cock was incredibly thick in proportion, and strain as she would, she couldn't swallow more than a few inches of its massive length. Christ, Melinda thought, John Wayne would shit his pants if he knew they were making movies like this.

Successful or not, it was a gallant attempt, and Melinda felt a tension at the corners of her mouth watching the movie girl trying to suck that big cock.

"Let's gang-bang her," the smaller-peckered man suggested, and his friend concurred. The girl hurried to the bed and spread herself out in anticipation.

"Try this till we join you," the giant-cocker laughed, opening a dresser drawer and extracting a big dildo. He tossed it to the girl. She caught it, looked at it a moment as if it were the factor that had suddenly brought meaning to her life, and then she began to stroke the lips of her pussy with its plastic point. In another moment she'd wedged the tip between her cuntal flanges and was fucking it in and out with kinky, sensual wrist motions. Her eyes closed and she certainly appeared to be engrossed in the attempt to depict sexual frenzy.

"How is it?" the smaller cocked man asked as he and his naked buddy approached the bed.

"Only fair," the girl replied. "It just doesn't seem right without balls an it." She pulled the dildo from her snatch, threw it aside, and opened her legs wider. The camera zoomed in for a close-up of her wrinkled-lipped pussy.

The smaller cock appeared in her hand, and she opened her mouth to take it in. Her sucking was quick, punctuated with licks and kisses, and the prick stayed very hard, very red, as she worked on it.

Meanwhile, the bigger dude was getting between her legs. He threw one of them far to the side, so the camera would have a good shot of his fat, long prick entering the girl, and for a moment the camera obligingly dwelled upon that very sight. He might have been a little too big for her mouth, but her cunt opened greedily for him, and within seconds the big ugly man was sticking her rhythmically.

The camera pulled back for an overview of the scene – the use of zoom lenses was making Melinda a little dizzy – and treated the viewer to a clear depiction of the girl being screwed orally and vaginally by two sizable peckers, at the very same time. Melinda watched, rapt with attention. She'd never seen anything like this before, and it was absorbing, totally fascinating but something else intruded slowly upon her attention. It was a rustling sound, and not far away. She cased back in her seat, looking unobtrusively to the side.

Down the row of seats, that man, the one she'd noticed earlier, sat, and he was staring at the screen, the coat on his lap moving up and down with a rhythmic motion. Melinda looked at the movie again, but her eyes kept drifting to the side.

He wasn't really a man, she supposed, though he probably liked to think of himself as one. She doubted if he could be a day over nineteen. Nice profile, particularly when he leaned forward to peer at the double-fuck on screen. Very nice profile, in fact. Good nose, strong chin, high straight forehead, and rising up to be lost in a headful of hair. A college student? He looked like one, but so did most young men of his age group.

What interested her more, so much more, was the way his coat moved up and down. As if it were veiling something… And the way he looked at the screen, so intent upon every detail of the movie action…

Oh my God, she thought suddenly, he's playing with his cock!! Of course! There could be no other answer. He was stroking his penis, drawing inspiration from the porno film and its explicit sexual, and stimuli.

Melinda turned completely away from the movie and stared at the young man down the row. He was breathing harder, his face setting into a giveaway grimace. His lips were slightly parted – Melinda could hear the raspy breath, which seeped through those ajar lips – and the coat on his lap was moving up and down at a noticeably faster rate. Oh, she thought, he's getting closer!

The inspiration was sudden and irresistible. Melinda rose in a crouch and she moved down the aisle, planting her delectable ass upon the soft cushioned seat right beside the boy. He turned, his face paling even in the darkness, and he whooshed frightened breath through his ovaled lips.

"Shah," Melinda purred, moving her face toward him. He was very young, she saw at once. The age limit for admittance to this movie house was eighteen. Odds were, the ticket lady had asked him for an I.D. Not a day over nineteen, if that old, Melinda decided.

"What do you…"

She cut him off, cleverly. When she sat down, her ass had slightly dislodged the coat across his lap. Her hand now shot beneath it, weaving like a snake. Loud music blared from the screen. Down front, some people were talking among themselves.

Melinda heard a discernable "muthafuckah" here and there amid the conversation – but she felt as if the rest of the world had suddenly vanished. There was only this boy, only Melinda, the darkness, the seats on which they rested. That sense of isolation enfolded her and she basked in its protective blanketing.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. She could feel each and every action in her arm as she sought about beneath his coat, and when she found his pecker, sticking from his pants, Melinda discovered it pore by pore, her fingers slowly becoming aware of the male treasure they had sought and achieved.

"Oh, lady," he moaned, a tingly whisper in the dark.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she purred, and it took an eternity to utter the words. He jerked back, still in slow motion, but as his head and shoulders moved away, his loins seemed to pivot toward Melinda, and suddenly her clutching hand was full of his hard young cock.

"You poor child," she sighed, "does it make you so hot to watch other people having fun?"

He didn't answer, but he wasn't looking at the screen, either. His eyes were focused on Melinda's, and the connection was almost visible, like a beam of light running between their faces. She sucked in her breath, then squeezed his cock, and suddenly his face had thrust toward hers, and she was kissing him hotly. Under the coat her hand began to fly up and down, teasing his cock, shucking it, milking it in the soft moistness of her palm. He groaned into her open mouth and she stabbed him with her tongue. Oh, God, she thought, am I the same Melinda Stillman who got out of bed this morning? I was a faithful wife then, your typical garden-variety all-American homemaker style. And what am I now?

I'm a woman whose husband was gone straying, she told herself. I've seen it on videotape, I've heard it from the lips of airline and hotel desk clerks. So if Neil Stillman doesn't want me, then I'm available to anyone else who does Dave Hammett, in his office. Ron what's-his-name at the Holiday Inn. A lonely young man frigging himself at a dirty movie. And this is only the beginning.

"No-no-no-no," she chirped, prying her mouth from his. God, when he got started basing he didn't want to stop. And his cock felt like a fence post an her hand, throbbing the way no fence post ever did, pulsating with the hot young blood of lusty excitement.

She eased her face back, lips pursed for a long distance blown kiss, and her fingers teased the spongy resilience of his swollen peckerknob.

He groaned and seemed to lift a little in his seat. Mmmm, she thought, he doesn't give a shit what they're doing on screen now. He'd lucked onto something a hell of a lot better than masturbation fantasies.

"Let me show you how much better," she smiled, lifting the coat that had so far remained in place across his lap.

A lovely cock! She was getting to be quite a connoisseur of peckers, Melinda reflected. Well, Neil had driven her to it. Men had no monopoly on catting around, nor on sexual desire either. She nodded smugly as she looked down at the boy's bare rod. Long, rather slender, but hard as a rock, and so inflamed it seemed to glow in the dark theater's interior. She leaned across the arm rest, tongue already out, and her fingers swayed the cock to meet that hungry, lascivious tongue.

"Oh, shit," he sighed, jerking as if electricity had been shot thin ugh his body. The action made his cock leap up, up to make contact with Melinda's frisky tongue.

She land his pecker tip, softly at first but with an impatient frenzy that built and mounted. He must have been playing with himself for some time, she decided, because she could taste the preliminary leakage of cum from his slitted aperture. God, she'd not tasted such fresh young semen since she was this young herself. And not much of it then. She's always been a good girl, curious, interested, but faithful, too. And what had faithfulness gotten her? A husband who took up with a perky blonde. Well, the Goddamned hell with faithfulness! She slurped up the dribblings of cum on the boy's dong, washing him till the velvety flesh of his knob was sloppy with her drool, and then she welcomed him into the treasure chamber of her mouth.

He sank deeply, but not so deeply as she'd liked to have taken him. Melinda remembered that videotape, of Kathy swallowing almost the whole of Neil's throbbing dick, and she wished she could do it too. But her mouth seemed incapable and she could only offer this stranger the best head in her power. Hope it's good enough, she thought, knowing it would be.

She sucked wickedly at the portion of him she was able to swallow, and her tongue washed round and round the hard length as it moved in and out her mouth. Her fingers anchored his base, reached into the undone fly to fickle his swollen balls too, and he writhed in his seat, hands flying here and there. Sometimes they touched Melinda. Once a set of fingers moved beneath her, closing for a moment upon the tip of one breast.

But it was a shy pinch, not at all bold and assertive, as if he were half afraid of her despite his pecker in her mouth. Melinda chuckled around his rod, remembering how bashful young boys could sometimes be, even when their cocks were standing up and hungering for release. She pulled his hand to her breast and fitted it round the full swelling prominence, clamping down until she knew he was brave enough to cup her without assistance.

His hand was tense around her boob, but it was strangely comforting, and she felt her nipple begin to ache inside the beige brassiere. Something else ached, too. Something moist and pink, fringed in hair, sheltered between her sleek thighs. Her pussy.

She was taking excellent care of his momentary sexual needs, but what about her own? Melinda swallowed hard, pulling his cock into her mouth for a bathing in hot saliva, and she slipped her free hand down, down.

Lifting the hem of her short skirt, she planted her fingers upon the panty-covered puff of cunt and she began to massage herself in strokes that matched and counter pointed her oral massage of the boy's penis. God, it felt so good! His cock in her mouth, her fingers slithering up and down the crotch of her panties, where a moist pussy had already begun to glue itself to the covering of nylon. She punched at her slit, driving finger and panties alike into the crease, and she writhed against that stroking finger, legs twitching as she grew more excited.

This morning, masturbation had seemed a terribly pathetic means of satisfying herself, but this was so much different. She wasn't sitting on the john trying to soothe her sexual tensions while her husband bone-tired from fucking another woman ill night snored away in the bedroom. She was pleasuring a man with her mouth, pleasuring herself with her finger – oh, God!! Was she ever pleasuring herself!! She could smell male presence, could taste it on her lapping tongue, and her body hummed with a bright, happy intensity.

She felt the panties beginning to unravel beneath her thrusting fingertip. And why not? She was in herself, finger and panties, almost to the hilt. Wetness had already sopped through the nylon, and the flimsy material couldn't stretch indefinitely.

Her nails were sharp and tapered, and Melinda sighed "Ohhhh" around the cock in her mouth as the nylon yielded and tore and she was stabbing a bate finger through the rent, into an equally bare, juicily wet pussy.

The muscles were eager, and they clenched at the fucking finger with vehemence. Melinda twitched about even more energetically than she had before, and her mouth moved faster on the boy's cock. He was still holding her by one, guiding her head with his other hand, and his cock danced and jiggled in the inescapable trap of her suctioning mouth.

There was no way he could resist her for long, especially since he'd been playing with his peter for God knew how long prior to her approach. Melinda knew that, yet she took a perverse pleasure in denying him his climax as long as possible. Her tongue fluttered inside her mouth, and once or twice she allowed him to slide wetly forth so she might nibble and lick the fat, swollen cum-tube on the underside of his shaft. Oh, Christ, did he ever moan and groan when she did that! She knew from her experience with Neil that men enjoyed a certain amount of teasing in that area, but she carried it to extremes now, using her teeth like vicious baby piranhas on him.

"Oh, don't…" he moaned softly, arching his pecker up, up, and Melinda moaned too, for she felt the unmistakable convulsions of his organ, the giveaway that he was about to… She gabbed him and angled his cock toward her mouth, but apparently the very act of touching him sent the boy irretrievably over the edge. His cock began to squirt hot splattering semen even before she could part her lips and suckle the tip of him back into her mouth where the boiling juice would not be wasted.

At the same time she continued to fig herself, finger snaking through the rent in her panties, and her clit was a suddenly burning orchid of ecstasy, woman's juices pouring from her pussy in a stream thick enough, musky enough, to make the entire theater smell like a Chinese whorehouse.

Or so it seemed to Melinda, as she drank hot cum and fucked her clever finger, all at the same time. It was good cum, she thought as her lapping tongue played among the squirted gobs. Young cum. Hot cum. Delicious cum. She wanted more of it.

"Suck me, suck me," he pleaded, as if she had any intention of stopping. Jesus, she would suck him dry!

He kept coming, shooting the stuff into her gaping mouth, and it was rolling from her lips, splattering onto the crotch of his pants. Oh, God, there was so much of it! Perhaps he'd been sitting here in the dark, masturbating himself for hours, waiting only for the moment when his hands would drive him to a gushing orgasm just like this one. Or maybe it was the quality of her sucking. She didn't know, she didn't care. All that mattered was that Melinda felt herself drowning in hot semen and she couldn't wait to go down for the third time.

Her own climax was petty in comparison, but it was a climax all the same, and she'd shared it with another personhe way orgasms were meant to be shared. Never again, she thought. Never again will I be the pathetic little Melinda I used to be. If Neil doesn't want it, there's a world of men who do. She sucked at the boy's cock, teeth grinding softly on the barrels until her lapping tongue assured her that he was drained, that no matter how she teased, coaxed, cajoled, he could not spill another bubble of cum into her mouth. Regretfully, she lifted her head, patting his cock in appreciation of a job well down.

"Jesus," he said in a tight, faraway voice. Melinda tucked his cock back into his pants, then zipped them quietly. Her mouth was sticky with leaked-out cum, but as her tongue emerged to lick up the spill, she didn't care. No matter what it had done to her lipstick.

"I… I only had five dollars when I went out," he said, taking her by the wrist, "and it cost me three to get into the movies. All I have left is two, and I know that isn't enough…"

"Oh, hell," Melinda whispered back, "Do all men have this problem? Ron had thought her to be a hooker, too. And now this boy. Oh, it was too bloody much!" She looked up at the screen. Apparently the other film had ended during that lowly blowjob, for she didn't recognize any of the faces or bodies now laid out before her.

Wait! There was the really ugly man with the foot-long cock. He was – oh, Jesus – he was sticking it – yes! – into the asshole of a thin, blonde girl who looked like she was playing hooky from high school to take part in this filming. Little pointed tits with pink nipples, a saucy, impudent face, a small triangle of dark blonde pubic hair – she reminded Melinda very much of Neil's friend Kathy. But it wasn't the same girl. Kathy was slightly heavier in the ass, slightly fresher of face. Both of them gorgeous, yes, but… "I can't pay you," the boy was saying into her ear. "I'm sorry." Melinda realized that she still had her finger under her skirt, buried in her wet pussy. With a giggle she pulled it out, then waved the finger back and forth in her young friend's face. "Yes," she said, "you certainly can pay me. Take me somewhere and fuck me, till I smell like this all over!"

"Oh, wow," he said, quavering. His fingers were like little iron bands on Melinda's wrist.

"Come on," she added. "Let's go somewhere and do it. Really do it. And it won't cost you anything except an erection."

As they hurried up the aisle, Melinda took one last look at the screen. The Kathy-like blonde was still being corn holed vigorously. How her little anus ever expanded enough to take in that monster cock was beyond Melinda's understanding, but as she went through the curtain, she thought smugly, up both their asses! Kathy's and Neil's! She was on the prowl for Goddamned sure and, if her luck held, she'd do a lot better than she could at home.

CHAPTER SEVEN

His name was Charlie, and he was nearly as young as he looked. Almost twenty, he said, settling nervously into the passenger's seat of Melinda's car, but he could have passed for an innocent girl.

Medium-size, with light brown hair and a dimple in his chin just like Cary Grant's. But he didn't come across as the dynamically seductive type. Despite the hard cock Melinda had felt and sucked in the movie house, despite the lust with which she'd given herself to him there, he was stilt very shy, more than half afraid of the woman who had come on so boldly. She suspected that he was very inexperienced. Could he even be a virgin?

"Where shall we go?" she asked, pulling out from the curb. He didn't answer, so she put her hand on his thigh. "A motel, perhaps? Or do you have a place of your own?"

"Uh… yeah… I… uh… I stay with these two other guys… we all go to college…"

"Then a motel might be better?" Her hand inched up his thigh, getting perilously close to the area where his pecker lurked. It had softened after the mighty flood of cum he'd poured into her mouth, but he was young and, if she knew anything about young men, he could get up big and hard, very soon.

"Uh, well, my roommates went to a party," he stammered, moving nervously when her hand clutched him. "They probably won't be back tonight. It's that kind of party," he added.

"Mmm-mmmmmm," Melinda cooed. "And poor Charlie didn't get invited? And had to go to a dirty movie? Is that something you do very often, darling? I mean, going to an X-rated theater and…" Delicately, she left the sentence unfinished.

She could almost feel the heat of his blush. "Sometimes," he confessed. "I… I don't go out very much. You might not have noticed, but I'm… kinda… shy around girls. But oh, Jesus, this is embarrassing!"

"Not at all," Melinda argued. "Turn hire? People have sexual needs, Charlie darling I used to be like you. I had to take care of my own. But I've seen the light, and, oh, I want so much to share it with everyone. And that, dear, includes you." As she spoke the last word, her hand closed upon the crotch of his pants. Charlie yelped softly, but his cock had a different, much more satisfying method of response. Melinda had to stretch her fingers as the lump became a bulge.

"Here it is," he said, and she pulled in. "We live up there."

"Up there" apparently meant three darkened windows on the second story of a building whose round floor showed the Yen Sin Restaurant, Open 24 Hours, Cry Out Service.

"Are you hungry?" Charlie wondered, getting out of the car. "The Moo Goo Gai Pan here is out of this world."

"Fuck the Moo Goo Gai Pan," Melinda husked, wrapping her legs around him on the sidewalk. "Better still, carry me upstairs and fuck me. Now, Charlie, darling! Now!"

It was a small apartment – kitchenette, bath, small living room, and two bedrooms. One of them was miniscule but private, the other contained two medium-sized beds in a rather larger space. "Uh, I sleep in here," Charlie said, pointing to one of the beds. "Unless Frank scorn, and comes home with a girl. Then I sleep on the couch in the living room."

"Tsk-tsk," Melinda said, rubbing herself against him. God, he was still blushing, after all she'd done to him! So young, so shy, so sweet. She wanted to fuck him silly. It would round out her day nicely. Dave Hammett, sophisticated and straight-on; Ron, older, somewhat dull in comparison. And now Charlie. Young inexperienced. Just like a guided tour through the ages and varieties of man.

"Would you like a beer?" he asked. "I think there's some in the fridge."

"I'd love a beer," Melinda agreed. "Why don't you go out and get a couple from the fridge? Mmmm? A glass for mine, if you don't mind."

As soon as he left the room she began to strip. The blouse, the miniskirt, the bra. Melinda left her panties on, but arranged them slyly so that a tuft of silky dark pussyhair protruded through the tear her fingers had made. She'd just stepped out of her shoes when the bedroom door opened and Charlie came in carrying two large mugs of beer.

"Oh, Jesus!" he said, eyes big as saucers, and he dropped the mugs. They crashed on the floor, shattering, and beer ran everywhere. Charlie didn't notice. He had eyes only for Melinda's almost completely naked body, far the hands she extended in his direction. Late, too late, he looked down at the beer running across the floor. His brow wrinkled, as if he were unsure what to do – get a mop and clean it up or go to the woman who beckoned.

"Charlie," she purred, and he looked up. The wrinkles vanished from his forehead and he bounded across the floor.

His hands clamped onto her full, bare tits as he pushed her down upon the bed, and it seemed he couldn't get enough of them. He squeezed and kneaded the responsive warm flesh, till her hot nipples erected between his fingers and husky breaths emanated from Melinda's red lips. His groin lay against her body, and she could feel his cock grown rigid inside his pants. She reached down to finger the rampant dong and then, very gently, she unzipped him and slipped her hand inside.

"I… I oughta tell you," he gasped between kisses. "I've never done it before. Not with a girl, I mean."

"Oh? Are you a homosexual, then? Mmm, you don't taste like a homosexual."

Charlie shook his head quickly. "Not, I'm no fag! What I mean is, oh, beat myself off. Like, I've seen the movies. I know what you do. But…"

"You're a virgin, then!" He blushed, as if virginity we cause for shame. Melinda smiled and kissed his nose. "Everyone starts out as a virgin," she assured him. "In fact, I think it's very nice that you've saved yourself for me. Darling, am going to pop your cherry and it is going to be so fantastic… for the both of us…"

In a way, it was a real kick. And it did mitt day, so to speak. She'd been fucked by a man in his prime, by a man past his prime, and now she was about to steal the virginity of a boy just entering his prime. In one day she had sampled almost every imaginable type of male. And the excitement hadn't abated. Neil was going to be away the entire weekend. That left her at least torn wow to go on the prowl again. And Sunday morning to recover? If she needed recovery. More likely she'd settle into a hot bath and laze away the afternoon, masturbating while she relived her memories of Friday and Saturday.

"Your clothes, Charlie, take off your clothes."

He nodded, but his fingers seemed to be made of lead. Melinda helped him, her nimble hands flying up and down his buttons, throwing aside his shirt, and dropping his pants. She fell to her knees before him, sighing as she slid down his shorts and his long slender cock bobbed into sight.

She warmed it between her palms, cooing soft words of endearment to the red swollen tip, and she breathed warmly up and down the staff, till Charlie's loins flushed and his face went white. Pre-cum was seeping from his little slit and she wanted to taste it, but she was afraid it might excite him too much to plant his cock in her mouth again, so soon. Fiat would come the fucking. His virginal screw, she thought.

"I'm ready now, darling," she said, lying down on the bed. Her fingers encircled Charlie's cock as he hesitated beside the bed and she pulled him to her. Melinda lifted one knee, stretching the other one to the side, and she knew that he was looking into the pink-mouthed gape of her twat. She also knew that her cunt was slick and wet with the anticipation of being dicked. While she held him in one fist, she reached into her crotch and parted her labia with two fingers, showing him the deeper coral of her moist vulva, the pussyhole itself, open, deep, ready to be entered, to be screwed into pulsating orgasm. "Come to me now," she whispered. "Let me show you what the cock is really for."

He threw himself upon her, aggressive as a bear, and it was quite a surprise to Melinda. She rocked beneath him, suffocating in his kisses, and the hot tip of his cock rubbed across her thighs and belly, through the mesh of her beaver. "Here," she grunted, stopping his kisses long enough to pant out the word, and she reached in to seize his cock, to put it where it belonged.

She felt the throb-throb-throb of his blood, boiling inside his peckertube, and though he wasn't extremely thick, she knew that he'd be a sweet, comfy fit inside her snatch. "In, now," she chirped, wedging the point of him between her cuntal labia. Was he caught? Yes! She bucked up, cunt opening to swallow him, and [missing text]. "Oh, fuck!" Charlie shouted, rolling off her. His cock had wilted pathetically, as soon as Melinda's pussy thrust up in acceptance. And to look at him now, withered fuck slouching across his testicles, one might think that screwing was the furthest thing from his mind. His face was beet red and his eyes wining to look into Melinda's.

"What's wrong?" she asked helpfully. Her fingers toyed with his penis but it didn't want to respond.

Charlie shook his head. She caught him by the dimpled chin and turned his face toward hors. "What's wrong, Charlie?"

"It's in," he said. "I'm just no good. Oh, wow, I'm hell on wheels when it comes to jacking off in porno theaters, but put me up against a real live woman and look what happens! Oh, shit, I think I'm gonna go in the bathroom and kill myself."

"But Charlie…"

"This always happens," he went on. "Frank and Don fixed me up with a girl. Jesus, she'd fuck a barber pole! So she came over here one night, and we necked and petted, and we ended up in the bedroom, and she was all hot and sweaty, and I… I…"

Melinda sighed in sympathy. "It isn't…"

"And she laughed at me," Charlie added. "Laughed her ass off. That's what they always do, when I can't keep it up. Maybe I am a faggot. Do you think…"

"You didn't go soft in the theater," Melinda pointed out. She kept pulling his pecker, trying to make it come alive. "You stayed big and hard, and you just filled my mouth with your sweet cum. Remember?"

"Yeah, but you surprised me," he said defensively. "And I thought… Jeez, maybe I could… Well, aren't you going to laugh?"

Melinda shook her head, smiling. You meet all kinds, she thought. So much more interesting than screwing the same man all the time. God, why hadn't she discovered the delights of adultery long ago?

"No," she said, relishing the moment, "I'm not going to laugh. I'm going to do something a lot nicer. For both of us."

And with that, she rose onto her knees, still holding his cock. He stared at the full, lovely breasts that jiggled on her cheat, at the stiff dark nipples which crowned those bouncy tits, at the puff of dark hair between her legs that masked, only slightly, an inflamed, moist pussy slice. She knew he was staring, and it made her feel good. Melinda posed a moment, allowing him to see all that he wanted to see, and she felt interest stirring in his prick. It was warmer in her hand, warmer and, perhaps, a trifle engorged. A good sign, that. A very good sign.

She'd never been called upon to give a man virility before. It was a problem Melinda had never been faced with, and she found it a fascinating challenge. Maybe it would be easier just to laugh at Charlie and his pecker problems, to mock him for his failure to perform, but she saw no point in it. After all, the only man in the world against whom she had such a burning grudge was her husband. Helping Charlie would be a lot more fun than hurting him.

"Here," she said, lying down beside him in reversed position. "Touch my cunt. Feel it. Stroke it. Mmmm, yes, run your fingers through my hair. See? Isn't it soft and fluffy? And hot as fire? Stick your finger inside, see how wet I am. Ooooohhh, yes, Charlie!! God, you have a big middle finger! Ream it around… See how wet I'm getting? Oh, I can feel it, Charlie – can't you? And it's all for you, darling, all for you. Whoooo – you're getting deeper, deeper – fuck me with your finger, Charlie! Fuck me with your finger while I put your cock in my mouth and suck it up, big and hard again. Would you like that? I know I would. And when I get you big and hard, Charlie darling, I'm joint to climb on top of you and fuck you till you scream for mercy!!"

She leaned across him, and his nearly soft penis seemed to rise to meet her oncoming lips. She'd turned him on with her mouth, it appeared, but she was really going to turn him on before she taught him the finer points of fucking. Melinda opened wide and his steadily-erecting dick moved in.

His finger was still in her pussy, twiddling around, and with his thumb he'd managed to locate her clitoris. He strummed it with his thumb, entranced by the way it jiggled about, and Melinda was entranced too, for spurts of pleasant sensation rippled through her body and made her snatch that much wetter and hotter around the finger that roved inside it.

Simultaneously, she was sucking hard on his cock, thrilling as it stiffened joltingly in her mouth. All the boy needed was encouragement, she thought. Encouragement and a friendly woman. My God, she reflected, I'm living "Summer of '42"! I'm Jennifer O'Neill, and he's that kid, whatever his name was. I'm the older woman introducing him to the pleasures of sexual expression. What a trip!

But she didn't feel like an older woman, especially when a tiny gush of cum shot from the tip of his cock and oozed across her tongue. Oh, he was up now, really up, and she'd make damned sure he wouldn't go down again till he'd filled her cunt with lots and lots of that hot bubbly jism. For good measure she opened wide and sucked at him with all-encompassing vigor, and suddenly… Suddenly the head of his cock was in her throat and she had pubic hair in her nostrils. Oh my God, she thought, I'm doing it! I'm actually doing it! The same thing that bitch Kathy did to my husband! She'd swallowed his cock to the very root!

Her next impulse was to gag and throw up all over his groin, but she knew, somehow, that it wouldn't be right. It would shock him and probably make him sick and only increase his sex problems. Melinda fought resolutely with herself, and the gagging urge posed. Indeed, once she'd gotten used to the idea of having a dong's head in her throat, it wasn't bad at all. Sort of like the feeling of eating too much at Thanksgiving, except that only her throat was hill, not her tummy.

But she enjoyed it, the longer the contact lasted, and she was pretty sure Charlie did too, because his finger was going wild in her cunt and he was pushing her cunt as it were a button and he was tying to get room service in a hurry. "Ga," she said around his cock and he shivered at the vibrations up and down his rigid length.

On the other hand, it was hard to breathe, once he'd been there a while, and her face was getting red from lack of oxygen. Regretfully, Melinda let him slide out, but her tongue followed, even as her lungs sucked in air, and she licked her dribbly spit off the inflamed, swollen cock.

"How do you feel now?" she wondered, gurgling a little. Her mouth was flooded with spit, nearly as thick as the cum he'd given her in the movie house.

She wiped her lips, grinning, and Charlie grinned back. If ever she'd seen a grin totally full of confidence, he was flashing one at her. Oh, yes, she told herself, he's ready now. And he's not going to go soft at the ultimate moment. He's going to fuck my ass off.

"I feel great," Charlie said, extracting his middle finger from her snatch. "I think you've done me a lot of good."

"I think you're going to do me some good now," she told him, kneeling beside the boy. His cock stuck up, in need of no further oral or manual assistance, and she looked down at it for a moment, anticipating the moment when it would enter her pussy and bury itself to the hilt. "Oh, yes, a lot of good," she added, throwing her leg across him.

Melinda rose above the boy, her cunt uplifted, open, totally available, and she stopped in place. "Okay, Charlie," she said, "put it in me. And fuck me. Right?"

"Oh, right!!!" the boy wailed, grabbing his cock.

He stood it up, tickled the hair of Melinda's pussy, and then thrust up. She sank down as he bucked, and their genitals fumbled together for a moment, cock straining to enter her snatch, her cunt an inky, hungry hole that sought to swallow him as engulfing as her mouth had just finished doing.

"Ohhhh!" Melinda screamed, plunging down on him. Charlie's cock bent, but the tip made entrance, and when her ass came to rest upon his upper thighs, she was pussyfull of pecker and loving every inch of it.

"Look, Melinda!" he yelled. "I'm not going soft!"

"Damn straight, you're not! Now use that thing on me, Charlie! Use it! You've seen the movies and you know what to do!"

He must have seen a lot of the movies, she noticed, because he pile drove his way up into her with short, furious, skillful strokes that had her bouncing and rocking, cunt twitching around his rod. She rested her hands on his chest, threw back her shoulders, and set about riding that marvelous young animal she'd stirred back to life. Oh, it was fantastic! Her cunt squished as he fucked in and out, and she made her ass bob up and down, to heighten the intensity of Charlie's strokes. Her hair swirled, and the nipples of her tits were stiff with passion, so stiff they hurt – but such a delightful hurting! Melinda reached up, cupping her breasts, offering them as if to an imaginary lover, and she ran her fingertips across the jutting nipples till her head swam.

"My God," she gasped, "you're doing it right, Charlie – exactly right! Keep on, oh, God, keep on!!!"

"Do you like it?" he asked, fucking happily. "DO you really like it, Melinda?"

"Bet your ass I like it," she grinned, shaking her tits at his beaming face. He liked that, very much, for he reached up and seized the shaking mounds in his hands. Melinda stoked him as he stroked her, and they rode together, fucking with a greater and greater speed and intensity. Melinda's teeth chattered, and hot sweat ran from beneath her arms. She flexed her arms and felt the squishy moisture in their pits, and she could smell its hot, cunty fragrance.

Or was that the hot cunty fragrance of her sopping pussy? She couldn't be sure. But Charlie had certainly fulfilled her request. All of her smelled just as her pussy had, back in the theater – once again she found herself thinking wistfully of Chinese whorehouses. And loved it. If there were any aroma in which she could gratefully be suffocated, if was the smell of sex. God, was she ever making up for those lost months when Neil had abandoned her and forgotten to mention it to Melinda. Damn him, she thought, I hope he's having fun, because I sure as hell am!

"Feed my hungry pussy," she smirked, romping dawn upon him, twisting her ass so that her cunt wriggled and sucked on his up thrust dong. "I want your cum running out my ears," she added, her fingers tickling his ears. He grabbed harder at her tits, pulling the nipples till she screamed with delight. "Oh, you're learning fast, kid!" she said, and her twat mashed down hard upon his jiggling balls.

"It's fun learning," he agreed.

Melinda couldn't wait. She loved to be kissed, and she wanted to be kissed. Right now. She leaned forward, and her tits came to rest upon Charlie's chest. She cupped his face in her hands and rained wet kisses all over the tower part of his head. Mouth, cheeks, the dimples in his chin – she kissed everything that was kissable and several things that weren't. Once the playful tip of her tongue even slipped into his flaring nostrils for a little bit of stimulation that was new to both of them.

And all the while her cunt ground upon him, moving up and down, back and forth, to the sides, always full of his cock, always wet and slick and active around his cock. Melinda was discovering muscles in her pussy she hadn't known existed, and she was putting all of those newfound muscles to wonderful use.

"I like it," he said. "I really like it."

"Everyone likes it," Melinda countered between kisses.

"But I never thought I'd actually be fucking a woman, like you… like this… I thought it was something I'd read about, or see in the movies, or hear other people talking about… Jesus, I didn't think this could ever happen to me."

"Well it is, Charlie darling, so why don't you enjoy it? And when we've gone around the park once, we'll rest a little, and then see how many more times we can turn each other on. Mmmm? What do you say, Charlie?"

He didn't have time to talk. His hands were gripping the cheeks of her ass, splitting them as his cock split the yielding mouth of her cunt, and he was lifting Melinda off his belly with each stroke up her passageway. She rocked up, sucking his cock home, then slammed down, pinning him to the bed as her cunt gobbled every inch of him and drooled for even more.

It was delicious, and it was perfect, a splendid way to end an evening on the prowl. If all my nights could be like this, Melinda thought. If only all my nights could be like this. Who needs a husband, especially when that husband only wants somebody else?

She bellied down upon Charlie, and pussy juices were leaking from her gash, wetting his pubic hair as well as hers. A come was boiling in her guts a real crackerjack of a come, and she could sense that his own desire was just as hot, just a uncontrollable as her own. "Mmmm!!" Melinda sang. "DO it to me, Charlie baby! Make it good!!!"

And then things started to happen.

CHAPTER EIGHT

First she heard the outer door opening, and then she heard a raucous voice calling, "Charlie, Charlie. Where is Charlie?" Beneath her, the object of the question seemed to stiffen and she felt his cock begin to wilt. No! Melinda thought jealously. She made her pussy contract on him, and almost at once the softening process halted. He wasn't quite as hard as he'd just been, but he was still fuckworthy. No matter who was in the apartment, she didn't intend to lose that erection till she'd milked it and profited by its milk.

"Oh, shit, it's Frank and Don," Charlie whispered. "My roommates."

"Listen," a second voice said outside, "I hear bedsprings quivering."

"Oh, yeah? Does that mean we've caught him doing the dirty deed again? Hey, Charlie – if you keep playing with your tool, it'll never…"

The bedroom door pushed open and a dark, punk-faced young man stuck his head into the room. He looked like any of the imitation Fonzies running at large nowadays, Melinda noticed as she stared over her shoulder. "Holly shit," the boy said. "Come here and take a look at this!"

"Jesus Christ," Charlie moaned, stirring beneath, her. His face was scarlet.

Melinda smiled reassuringly, and she straightened up, then turned half around. The fact that she was totally naked, that she was full of cock, that she was being stared at by a stranger – it was too late for any of those factors to embarrass Melinda Stillman. Indeed, there was something quite provocative in the wonder-filled eyes of the young man looking at her from the doorway.

A second face entered the frame. Also dark, also third-rate Brando – James Dean – Henry Winkler. But the eyes were enormous, and they took in all of Melinda's nudity; took it in, craving more.

"I thought you guys were going to that party," Charlie said in a soft voice. Melinda put her hand on his chest and started twiddling his nipples. He chuckled softly, and his cock seemed to fill a little, to stiffen inside her. Mmmm, she thought, that's a lot better, Charlie love. Now don't lose any of that sweet, sweet stiffness. Keep yourself up, big and hard, so you can fuck me just as soon as we're ready to start again. She tweaked one nipple, felt it nearly as stiff as his cock, and she was happy. Something told her Charlie was happy, too. "Yeah," said one of the faces. "It was a stone drag, so we got out. No chicks, no dope worth smoking, nothing but ripple to drink. Looks like you scored all right, though. Hey, that's some piece."

"Christ, look at those tits," she heard the other one whisper, and his eyes were still big as saucers.

Both of them liked what they saw, and that pleased Melinda. It was a very heady feeling to see the attraction the two boys felt for her, and perhaps it was a kind of indicator that she was on her way to a successful career. Neil used to look at me like that, she thought. And she'd mined it so much. Well, she didn't have to miss it any longer.

Melinda rocked a little atop Charlie, and his dick quivered in her tight sucking sheath, and she found herself remembering the dirty movie, when she and Charlie had met. Such a fascinating scene – the very scene where she'd made her move on the masturbating boy, in fact – a woman taking on two men at the same time. She'd wondered then, wondered how it would be, how it would feel, how she'd respond. God, she could have it now, if she wanted. And three men, instead of just two. Frank and Don were breathing hard, their faces flushed with lust and perhaps a few glasses of Ripple. She could have all of them, right here, right now, a cock in her cunt, another in her mouth, but where would the third go? Up her ass? She'd never tried it there. Neil and Kathy probably had. Kathy looked like the type of girl who'd do anything, at least once. Or…

No. It wouldn't work. Maybe some other time. At least it was I goal to shoot for. But right now she was Charlie's, and he was hers in a very special way, and bringing his friends into the act would only cheapen it for him. Besides, he was still rather shy and nervous about fucking his first woman. Let him savor the full pleasure by himself. Yes, that was the only answer.

"Why don't you guys get out, and shut the door behind you?" Charlie spoke up, his voice stronger than before. A very good sign, Melinda thought. "We'd like a little privacy."

"Oh, hell, Charlie," one of them argued. "Can't we at least watch? I've never seen anybody lose a cherry before."

"Beat it!" he said. "If you want, to watch, go to the all night dirty movies. I'm not gonna tell you again." And something hi his voice seemed to suggest that he was quite serious. I'm turning him into a man, Melinda thought. He doesn't sound squeaky and boyish any more. So much the better for Charlie, so much the better fin me.

"Yes," she said, "we'd like to be alone." And with that she threw herself down upon Charlie, squirming, kissing his red face, oozing her tits and belly against his body until he began to thrust and buck within her almost automatically.

"Oh, the hell with it," one of the boys said. "Let's give old hand job Charlie his big break. He'll probably never score again anyway."

"Yeah. I wonder how much he's paying her. She looks like a hooker. I guess that's all he can get."

The door went shut and, a few moments later, she heard them going out the front door. Charlie's tongue was in her mouth and she was busy sucking it, but she let go and looked at him. "Don't worry about your friends," she said. "They're jealous."

He nodded, face beaming with newfound assurance. "They're not even my friends," he said. "Just my roommates. And I don't give a fuck what they think."

"Prove it, big stuff," she taunted, wiggling her bottom.

He took the hint and thrust up, cock frisky in her gate. Melinda sighed with pleasure and she reared back, back, until she was sinking onto the mattress and Charlie was lifting with her.

Now she was stretched flat out, and it was Charlie who reared up, straight-wined, but his cock was still in her and Melinda could look down her belly, sighting between the jelly-jiggly mounds of her tits and see his groin plumb against hers, the very root of his dong visible where it entered her cunt.

"I was getting tired of being on top," she smiled. "I'm not really a dominant woman. I like a man who'll put the blocks to me, show me that he's all man. Can you do that, Charlie sweet? Can you?"

"Try me," he sneered, full of newly-gained macho and so delightful to watch. Melinda lifted her legs and he caught them at the ankles, as he began to fuck in and out.

"Ohhhh," she cried, and one of her hands went down to rub her clit while the dick continued to move in her. The combination of hard-fucking and vigorous frigging sent shudders of hot cuntiness through Melinda and she writhed to meet him, her legs stretching and stretching and stretching, till she thought her toes must soon rub the ceiling.

"Wow," he gloated, "I've seen it in a lot of movies, Melinda, but it feels a million times better than it looks."

"Mmmm-mmmmm," she nodded, and even as she spoke she felt herself climbing, sooo high.

Her breath came harder and harder, and her tits ached. God, how long had they been fucking? Maybe fifteen minutes. And that didn't count the juicy little be-brave suck off she'd given him, when his resolve had failed at the moment for penetration. A long time. A sweet long time. Oh, someday this Charlie the young man would be a dynamite cocksman, and he'd have Melinda Stillman to think for it. Weil, he was pretty fucking good right now, and she kept on climbing, till the pound scorned to drop away beneath her feet and oh, God, instead of climbing she was falling, into an absolutely bottomless pit of sensation and stimulation and dripping, cunt-shivering excitement.

"Ooooooooohhhhhhhhh… chaaarrrrrlllliiiieeee!!!" Her clit exploded beneath her thumb and her pussy was a million separate strands of raw flesh whipping and whipping around his cock. Melinda's head tossed from side to side, hair flying back and forth in her face, and her tits bounced, and so did her ass, up and down, into him, away from him, into him again, but this time as if she meant to eat his cock with her contracting, rippling pussy.

"Come with me," she begged shrilly. "Come with me, Charlie! Oh, Jesus, feel me coming? Oooohhh, I'm so wet, so hot, so Goddamned wet and hot… my cunt wants you, Charlie… put out my fires with your juicy cum… squirt, Charlie, squirttttt!!"

He had her by the legs, and it felt as if he were breaking them off when he rammed it up her. There was no stopping Charlie, not then. His cock swelled in her cunt, swelled till it felt as if he were ripping her apart, and for the my time in the boy's life he shot his seed up the snatch of a willing, horny woman.

His eruption was shattering. "I… I… I'm coooommmminnggg!!!" he moaned, as if she needed to be told. She could fucking feel it, each separate bloat erupting into her guts, coating the walls of ha pussy sheath with his hot, thick, sticky baby-making fluid. Oh, it was good stuff! She knew – she'd tasted it already, scooped it up with her tongue, shoveled it down her throat as the tingly flavor held strongly on the tip of her frisky pink tongue. But now it was blasting up her pussy, and that was good too, so good, so gooooodddd…

He jerked out of her, still squirting, and she felt hot cum splattering her belly. Oh, Christ, the way he looked now, his cock slick and greasy-white with jism, as if he'd just fucked a jar of cold cream. But it wasn't cold cream. She could feel it on her skin, leaking in a river from her tingly cunt. Mmmmm, it was hot stuff, blistering hot, soul sucking hot!

Melinda fought her legs from his hands. She rocked on the bed while he watched, astonished, and she grabbed him in one fist. God, the stickiness on her fingers, in her palm! She had to taste it again, to remember exactly how sweet this young-boy cream was.

"Aaaahhh!" he yelped. "Suck me, suck me, ooohhh, I'm still coming! Suck it all out of me!"

She was! His cock was in her mouth and that viscous jism kept on flowing, as if her body had without warning caused his own ducts to burst open. She felt as if she were sucking the very life from Charlie, but suck she did, her mouth a hot vacuum on his dick.

And she had a finger in heron pussy, the long nail scraping the delicate flesh. But she didn't care. Her finger in her twat, her thumb on her clit banging away, banging.

Oh, God, she must have come a dozen a times in machine-gun succession, tremor after tremor fluttering through her pussy, until her body a creamed for release from that inexorable cycle of pleasures. Charlie? How many times did he come? He'd filled her pussy – her finger puddled in the stuff, so thick and abundant inside – and by the time his cock went soft in her mouth, she was full there, a well. Cream coated her lips, dripped from her chin, and her tongue was oily with it. But ahhhh, she thought, it was worth it all!

They left the bed to piss a short while later, and he found a new kind of thrill when Melinda held his cock while he poured his urine into the toilet bowl. She made his dick jiggle about, so that he pissed quietly, on the john's inner wall, and then noisily, right into the bowl of water, and both of them were laughing like children. Even when she misjudged her aim and he pissed on his own toes.

"I have a solution for that," Melinda giggled. She dropped to the floor, lifted his foot, and licked him dry with her tongue. God, she thought, I've never done anything like that before. Not even with Neil. What's next? Letting him in my mouth? Somehow the idea titillated her. She pictured the yellow-brown stream that had issued from his cock, remembered the salty, curiously enticing taste of it on his toes, and found the idea not at all repugnant. Yesterday it would have been, but this was.

And then she sat on the toilet, very demurely, and emptied her own bladder. But it ceased being demure when Charlie put his right across the slice of her pussy and let her flow across him. He rubbed her while she urinated, too, and Melinda felt hot urges beginning to boil in her fucked-out cunt. "Don't," she said. "I'm not in shape to do it again, and you're making me too Goddamned horny!"

But when she saw him suck his wet finger, suck it as freely, as curiously, as she'd licked his toes, she knew that resistance was in vain. Her nipples erected even before she'd climbed off the commode, and she was in his arms, being carried like a bride back into the bedroom, planted on the bed.

"And I have something else to plant," he said, brandishing a magically-restored hard-on. Melinda licked her lips with anticipation. She lifted her arms, spread her legs. Charlie climbed aboard, and the bed began to shake, rattle and roll beneath them. Oh, God, she thought, I'm glad I picked him up, glad I noticed him, glad I blew him in that scrungy theater, glad…

"When can I see you again?" he asked hopefully, snuggling close. Three times, plus that introductory suck off. Melinda ached, but such a sweet, happy ache.

"See me again?" she asked coyly. "Oh, Charlie!" Melinda shook her head. "I can promise you'll see me in the morning, the first thing you see when your eyes open, but after that – I don't know. I'm going through a lot of changes right now, and you're part of them, but I don't know where my head will be tomorrow afternoon. Don't look so sad! By this time Monday, you'll have so many women crawling over you that you'll have forgotten my name. Oh, Charlie love, I'm glad I got you started. But you'll have to go on by yourself."

"I don't want to. I want you."

"No," she cried. "I'm your big sister, your understanding aunt, the woman next door who saw something in you that was worth developing, bringing to the surface. We met by chance, like ships that pass in the night…" – had she heard some of this dialogue before? In a corny old Bette Davis or Joan Crawford movie, perhaps? It sounded familiar, but it also sounded appropriate…"and if we meet again, then perhaps we can share a laugh and a smile and maybe even a little kiss or two. But if we don't, Charlie sweetest, please think of me with kindness. Will you? Now kiss me goodnight and let me go to sleep in your arms. I want to feel your body close to mine all night long, and I want to wake up still in your arms tomorrow morning. Goodnight, darling."

As she snuggled up against him, she thought proudly that this game seemed to be made precisely for her. When she was with a man, a strange man, she seemed to fit perfectly into a role, to play that role to the hilt. With Dave Hammett, she'd been, unconsciously, the wronged wife in need of consolation. And she'd gotten it, in spades. With Ron, at the Holiday Inn, she'd been a free spirited young thing seeking her thrills with an older mature man, willing to give him her gratis, to teach him how the younger generation felt about sexual freedom. And with Charlie – well, with Charlie, she was definitely Deborah Kerr, in "Tea and Sympathy". Three different Melinda's, each of them a rousing success.

But which Melinda had failed to keep her own husband happy, had allowed him to drift into the arms of another woman? If only she knew…

CHAPTER NINE

It was almost one in the afternoon when she finally turned onto her own street. God, what a night! And what a morning, too! Dear, sweet Charlie – twice more before getting out of bed, then in to breakfast while his disgruntled roommates slouched in the living room, red-eyed, hung over from a night of Ripple and envy. And though Charlie seemed to agree that it had been just a one-night stand, however magical, she wondered if he wouldn't haunt that X-rated theater for the next several weeks hoping to meet her again. Mmmm, she thought, wouldn't it be nice to know that someone was that interested [missing text]?

A car was parked on the street in front of her house; Melinda had to cut sharply to get into her driveway. Inside the car a figure stirred, but she was almost past by then and she couldn't very well look over her shoulder to see who it might be when she was trying to put the car into the garage, could she?

Melinda shut off the engine, retrieved her purse and coat, and get out. Oh, it felt good to be home again, even if it was to an empty home. She went outside and pushed the button which closed the door. When she turned around, Dave Hammett was walking up the driveway.

"Hi," hr said, smiling wryly, appealingly. Melinda smiled too.

It was a bright spring morning, but the air was crisp and Melinda shivered, coat over her arm. "Come inside," she invited. "It's a little cool out here."

"I see you, took my advice," Dave said. "About your skirt lengths. That one's much more like it." He pointed to the high hem, which brushed Melinda's legs about four inches above the knee. She hadn't worn it in some time, but last night scorned like a good occasion. "But," he added, "it looks like you slept in it."

True. Her clothes were somewhat wrinkled, after being put on three times and removed twice during the course of the festivities last evening. But her face was clean, with a minimum of makeup, and her hair fell upon her shoulders in dark swirls that danced round and round her bright eyes and moist red lips.

"I, uh, tried to call you last night," he continued. "You'd mentioned that your husband always came home late, and I'd thought that if you were just kicking around, with nothing else to do, we might…"

"Fuck?" she asked innocently. "Would you like a drink or something?" She mixed herself a whiskey and soda.

"Too early in the day for me. Mind if I smoke… oh, I forgot. Anyway, I didn't get any answer, so…"

"So you came over to wait for me? Oh, poor Dave! How long have you been sitting by the [missing text]?"

"Uh, since last night. But seeing you now makes it all worthwhile. Where's your old man, anyway? He didn't come home last night either."

"Oh, Neil. He's in New York. For a weekend convention. Mr. and Mrs. Stillman are booked into the Plaza, so I only hope he can tear himself away from her long enough to get around to whatever business he went up for." She downed her drink and fiddled for a moment with the empty glass.

"You oughta divorce him," Dave said. "Kick his ass into the street. Hit him for every cent you can get. Christ, a man that would divorce you for a skinny, titless broad like Kathy…" He stopped in mid sentence. Melinda had begun to unbutton her blouse.

She was braless under it, just an she was pantyless beneath her skirt. Melinda opened the skirt and shook it free of her dark-nippled tits, and then she looked at Dave, a smirk forming on her lips. He only shook his head, admiring.

"Christ you know how to bring out the beast in a man, don't you?" He crossed the mom in no more than three steps, his arms sweeping her up, his mouth coming in to dominate hers, to kiss it, to mall it, to crush it. Melinda sighed and purred and threw herself into that kiss, just as she threw her bare tits against him, the nipples erecting swiftly as they rubbed on his jacket.

"Aren't you going to ask me where I went last night?"

"I don't care," he replied. His pecker was stiff inside his pants, and she certainly remembered that pecker, its cunning prows, its fascinating tapered construction. Just grinding against him now she could feel his dong buried in her pussy, spreading the lips widely while the narrow tip burrowed about in the feminine depths.

Neil didn't care, either. She doubted if he'd even bothered trying to phone her from New York. Why should he, when Kathy's seductive charms were at his disposal? She probably had her mouth on his cock before he'd gotten his toothbrush out of the suitcase. She probably still had her mouth on his cock. Had him buried in her throat, sucking till the cum oozed down her gullet, straight from neck to tummy. Well, was that such a big deal? I can do it too, Melinda thought. Probably just as well as Kathy can.

She wiggled out of Dave's arms and tossed away her blouse. "Right now, if you can, I'm going up to take a bath. I smell all hot and funky and I'd like to clean up."

"You smell like USDA-inspected, Grade A, Prime Quality, Top Choice cunt," Dave said, following her. "And if you take off anything else, I'm not gonna be responsible for my actions…"

Melinda dropped her skirt at the bathroom door, than waited for him to catch up. Just his hands lacked for her bare us, she trotted away, kicking at the door with one lazy foot. IT wasn't meant to shut the door in Dave's face, sad it didn't. He caught it and scampered in after her.

Melinda turned round, stepping out of her shoes. She was completely naked now, and her tits quivered as she eyed him. The floor was softly, fuzzily carpeted. It felt great beneath her bare toes. It would feel even nicer under her bare ass. She kicked down at the carpet, than up at Dave, and he came to her, his eye aware, eager.

He pushed her down, stroking her as they moved, and he kissed her for a long moment with a wet frisky mouth. But soon he was stealing downward, kissing her neck like a vampire readying his victim for the big bite, licking the slope of her breasts, falling at last upon the nipples themselves. He sucked them voraciously, till Melinda's head rocked from side to side and her tits were hard and swollen in his mouth.

Meanwhile his hands were even further south in Melinda's sexual geography. He had one between her legs, briskly massaging her undulating cunt. She was still sore and tender from that prolonged night with sweet, sweet Charlie, and she moaned with an increasing fervor as he played with her snatch. Her clit – ahhhh – the agony of her clit, as he buffeted the crease in which it nestled! But the pert little thing couldn't ignore his caresses, no matter how much service it had seen last night, and the more he played with her, the wetter Melinda's twat became and the more responsive her clitoris. She locked her thighs upon his hand and pulled him against her cunt, adoring every abuse he could deliver.

"What a honey," he grinned, looking up at her face. "Oh, what a honey!"

His mouth shot downward, and just as his fist slid off her twat, his lips replaced it. Before Melinda could even shout her acceptance, he was spreading her pussy lips and his tongue was stabbing inside her.

"Yessss!!!" she barked, jerking about like a dying fish as he licked her inside out. Her legs came up, thighs closing upon his head the way they'd snapped shut on his hand, and she buried him in the musky jungle of her twat. He didn't seem to mind, however, for he kept his fingers busy, stroking up and down her swollen, wet outer labia, keeping her spread wide for his tongue to make time within.

He licked her clit with savage flicks, like the caresses of a whip, and she moaned and jerked each time he did it. Shooting stars flashed endlessly behind her tightly-closed eyelids and she was thinking. How many women are this lucky? My husband may not wait me, but a dozen other men do. And how many more could there be, all of them waiting out there in the wide, wide world, waiting for her, for Melinda? While Neil kept putting the meat to his hot little Kathy, the blonde teenage hot-ass of 1977? Oh, Christ, fuck Neil… fuck Neil… fuck Neil.

"I'm commmniinnnnggg!!" she screamed into the enclosed bathroom, and her words echoed and resonated all around her.

While her pussy leaked and thrashed and slopped hot cum all over Dave Hammett's gobbling mouth, the mouth of her snatch opening and closing like a Venus fly-trap. While her legs clenched at his face, the muscles in them contracting and expanding just like the contracting expending muscles inside her pussy Dave fought himself free and ac became aware his eyes were on her. A strange gleam shone in them, agleam of lust aroused, not to be denied. He was up, onto his knees beside her, and his fingers fumbled with his zipper. Melinda reached to help him, but her fingers were numb. They could barely feel the texture of his trousers' cloth. When his cock shot out, into the open, it was all by his own doing. She could only lie on her back, drooling, licking her lips, and mumbling "Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me…"

He gave it to her, leaning in, forcing his cock down, toward her fish-gulping mouth. Melinda opened and he slid inside, and then she closed her lips around him, sucking for all she was worth.

The angle was bad, and she couldn't take him quite so deeply as she'd taken Charlie last night, but she could suck him far enough to let him know that he was being eaten alive by the hungriest female mouth that had ever entrapped his throbbing pecker. Her tongue raced around the shaft, and saliva flowed in her, as thickly as his cum would flow – soon, God, make it soon!

She was a good cocksucker; she knew it. She'd always been a good cocksucker. Once Neil had told her that he didn't know which hole he preferred fucking her in the mouth or the cunt. And she didn't know, either. She loved to take it both places. Loved the feel of cum seeping from her crack, loved just as much the taste of it, all thick and heavy and clotted on her tongue. But she'd never been so hot as she had been these last twenty-four hours. It was just about this time yesterday that she'd gone to the detective's office to learn what Dave Hammett had turned up on her husband's activities. And since then? God, since ten!!!

"Suck me, honey," he cooed, guiding her head on him. He wanted to fuck her deeply, but the angle simply didn't permit it. Melinda groaned, trying to fight anatomy. She opened her throat, just as she'd learned to do last night, and she strove to pull him in. For the briefest moment she felt him there, the narrow tapering point of his dick slipping into her throat, but it was gone almost as soon and she was sucking desperately in the effort to pull it back, where she wanted it, where he so clearly longed to be.

And then it gushed, the tip of his prick splitting wide open and a river of hot thick gravy pouring into her mouth. She gurgled as the stuff filled her oral cavity, dripping from her lips, running down her throat too. It was the first time she'd tasted him, but he was worth the wait. Not at all like any of the other men she'd blown to orgasm. Not like Charlie, not like Neil… "Drink my cum!!" he was shouting, echoes ringing off the bathroom walls, and the echoes reverberated on Melinda's eardrums, hammering inside her, throbbing in time with the agitated pulsation of his pecker in her mouth. She sucked and sucked and sucked, till the river of his cum was drained and she was a sticky mess from the sucking and the spill out. But, ah, God, if being a sticky mess all the time!

Dave's limp dick slithered like a crawling snake from her mouth, dragging a trail of viscous sperm down her chin. She kissed his dick as it retreated, and she cuddled it in her hand as he sank down beside her, kissing the wetness from her sperm glossed lips. "That was good," she told him solemnly. "But now I have to take my bath." Melinda sidled past him, and she turned on the hot water. Steam began to arise from the tub as it filled and a he poured in the bubble bath powder, stirring it round with her hand till a froth of sweet-scented foam congealed.

Melinda stepped into the water, shivering because it was so breathtakingly hot, and she settled down slowly, her ass burning so pleasantly, so absorbingly, as she moved into the hot water. Dave crouched on the floor beside the tub, his eyes devouring her ripe body just as his mouth and cock had already done.

Melinda looked at him, a smug grin curling her lips. "Do you want to know where I was last night, what I did, who I saw?"

"Baby," he said, "I could fuckin' taste where you were and what you did and who you saw. Your snatch smelled like a…"

"A Chinese whorehouse?" Melinda suggested, splashing soap at him. He ducked, but she caught him on the next try. "Well, I went out, and… see, this was after I found out Neil was deserting me for the weekend. And I thought, 'Why the hell do I have to put up with that, with knowing that he's taken that cunt to New York, that he's fucking her at the Plaza, that if they get the chance, they can even look out the window and get the same view of Central Park that we had, on our honeymoon…' oh where was I?"

"Yes! I went out. On the prowl, you might say. The forsaken wife's revenge. So I picked up a couple of guys – not at the same time – and I fucked both of them bowlegged. Counting you, I had three men yesterday. And I could have had five, but the last two I decided against, because it would have hurt the feeling of the boy I was in bed with. Oh, he was such a darling young thing, Dave – I was his first woman. Can you believe that? I popped his cherry. Someday hell be screwing a girl and she'll ask him, 'Oh, Charlie, where did you ever learn to fuck so fantastically?' And he'll look at her with those big sweet eyes of his and say 'A woman named Melinda Stillman showed me the ropes.' Mmmm! I felt like the heroine of a sentimental sex movie!"

Dave stood up. "Christ," he said, "and to think that I missed 'Mary Hartman' last night parked out on the curb, while you were prowling round the city fucking everything in pants."

Melinda reached for his hand. "Thank you for being so concerned about me, darling."

"Concerned? I wasn't concerned. I wanted to fuck your ass off, the way we'd banged it in the office. Anyway, Channel 34 runs the whole week's 'Mary Hartman' tonight at midnight, two and a half hours worth. Maybe we can watch it together, catch up on the stow. You know?"

"Mmm-mmmmm," Melinda agreed. "On one condition. Can you rent that videotape camera this weekend?"

"Yeah. In fact, I haven't returned it yet."

"I'd like to make a movie," she said. "Sorta like the one you made, of Neil and Kathy, only remake it, with a new cast. Interested?"

He started to undress. She presumed that was a sign that he was indeed interested. Hmmm. He had a nice body. This was the first time she'd ever seen it. Both times they'd gotten it on together, he'd simply unzipped his pants and hauled out his dong. But the rest of him was attractive too, and she felt her breath coming a little faster as he took off his shorts and stepped into the tub.

"I'm going to show it to Neil," she said. "When he comes home tomorrow, if you'll lend me that playback unit from the office. The tapes, dummy! First the one of him and Kathy. Then the one of me and you."

"I'd better wear a mask," Dave said with a grin. "In case he gets pissed off about somebody fucking his wife. His hot, sexy wife." He had her by the tits now, rubbing soap onto them, rinsing it away, and one of his feet was between her legs, a toe digging gently at the mouth of her pussy. Melinda squirmed about, but the squirming only wedged him between her yielding labia, and it didn't feel bad at all.

"I get to wash you too," she said poutily. But the only part of him she wanted to bathe at the moment lay beneath the waterline. It was long, and tapered, and when her fist closed around it, it felt rather hotter than the bathwater in which the two of them sat for the first time in her life she was sorry the tub was so large. She wanted to snuggle and be snuggled.

Dave's cock was growing rapidly when she eased into his arms. It was nice to be this cozy, this close, to another warm body, a loving body. She kissed his neck and squeezed his cock.

"You want to hurt him, don't you?" he said. Melinda stiffened. "In fact, the reason you want to hurt him is because you're still pretty hung up on him, right? That's the only reason anybody ever want to hurt anybody else."

"It isn't true at all," she replied. "I just want him to know. Why, my God, I haven't even thought of him since…" And she stopped, knowing that it was a lie. She'd thought of nothing but her husband ever since she'd learned of his unfaithfulness. No matter where she was, what she was doing, the image of Neil was strong in her mind. How would he feel, what would he think, what might he be doing…

"Well, so what?" Melinda sat up, snooty and aloof.

Dave cupped her tit. "So you figured you'd do a little stepping out, show him the evidence, let him know you're onto him, too, then see if you can save the marriage on a basis of new trust and honesty. Is that about it, Melinda?"

She nodded. "I guess I had something like that in the back of my mind." Melinda narrowed her eyes and stared at him. "So now I suppose you're not going to help me. With that tape, I mean."

"Oh, you bet your ass I'm going to help you. I'll write my name in cum on your belly, if it will do something. The way I figure it, kid, if your husband would dump you, then you can kiss his ass goodbye. He's gone, solid gone."

"Anyway… you've gotten the prowling habit now, and that's something you don't loss. Even if he does ditch the other girl, comes back onto the old straight and narrow, he'll stray again, and so will you. Fact is, you'll both be better off if you call it quits now. Let him go to Kathy, and you… you won't have to look. I'll be hanging around, and waiting."

"You'll have a long wait," Melinda replied, almost believing hr own wards.

"Maybe so," Dave agreed. "I've been wrong before but you show him thorns taps tomorrow night, and then you come down to my office on Monday morning. I've got a shoulder you can cry on, a bed you can sleep in, a cock…"

She put her finger across his lips. He was getting to her. If she didn't shush him right now, she might start believing him. "Well," she invited, "hadn't we better rehearse? For the taping, I mean?"

His answer was a hot kiss that pulled her atop him, with a lot of slopping and splashing of water. But his cock was up again, and she arranged her lap slip him into her snatch. Tomorrow she'd have the answers to her dilemma. She'd know if Neil wanted her at all. And if he didn't, well, obviously Dave did.

But what did she want? Part of her craved Neil, and the old life that had grown so comfortable. Part of her found excitement in the idea of a life with Dave Hammett.

Or… or… why should she tie herself down exclusively to either of them? She wasn't a piece of property. Her cunt belonged to her, if it belonged to anyone at all. Why should she tie herself down to any one man? Why couldn't she be totally free – free to do anything she wanted, with anyone she wanted? God, last night had been such an eye-opening experience! She had to do it again, soon – to go out, find a man, fuck him, and then, if the mood struck, look for another, and another, and…

But as for now – her aunt eased down on him, and Dave lunged up into her. Melinda's body waked down, pressing his groin, and she wrapped her arms around him.

"Aaahhhh… fuck me, darling, fuck me!!!" she screamed, the crazy hunger dominating her snatch, her mind, her quivering body. Water splashed over the edge of the tub, soapy, sudsy water, and she bounced on Dave's loins, riding his hard stabbing pecker. He sucked at her chin, fondled her tits, and she rubbed him with her bath-wet, shining body as she milked his rod with her well-exercised pussy muscles.

Oh, it wasn't the time to worry about the future. Tomorrow she'd confront Neil, challenge him, and ask him precisely what his plans were. But today she was still a wife, a wife enjoying the thrills of the hunt and she wanted only to be fucked – here in the tub, later on her bed, on the floor, on the Goddamned kitchen table, if the mood struck her.

She wanted to be fucked like a bitch in heat, and she wanted to come like a river overflowing its banks, like a giant dam bursting at the head of a narrow valley. There was so much lost time to make up for, and she had to regain every wasted second. "Oh fuck me fuck me fuck me," she gasped over and over as she rode him, and her writhing body, echoed the plea. This moment of passion was the only thing worth living for – she'd always known it, but not so truly as he knew it now, and no matter what course her life might take tomorrow, she we certain that would never truly matter.

Content

Ron Taylor
Wife on the prowl

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE