Roger Grayson

The friendly couples

CHAPTER ONE

The bubble-topped bath water remained hot after twenty minutes. Janet Richards sat low in the tub allowing the water to barely cover the tops of her rich firm breasts. She blew at the bubbles and scooped them in her cupped hands, building small mountains on her slightly rising chest, each breath breaking hundreds of the small transparent rainbow colored balls as they crackled furiously around her.

She stretched her arms straight above her head and leaned back, stiffening her legs in the tub and raised her body halfway above the snowdrift of bubbles, displaying the long lean lines of her young, voluptuous body. Her skin stretched taut against her ribcage, giving definition to her curvaceous lines that ran to the slight bump of pelvis that pointed out softly near the crest of her hips.

At twenty-seven Janet had lost none of the desirable form she had acquired not long after her seventeenth birthday. Her body kept its shape with exercise on the tennis courts or in a swimming pool. She had much to be proud of, her husband, Greg was always telling her.

She yawned in her catlike stretch and threw her head back, disposing of the bright towel she had wrapped around her long blond hair. Though slightly damp with the humidity in the room, her hair still shone with a bright lustre and an almost majestic fullness piled high atop her head. She bent forward and pulled the plug to release half the water so that she could refill the tub with more hot steaming water. She intended to soak another fifteen minutes before finishing her bath.

It was only four thirty in the afternoon, but Janet was preparing herself for a special night, she thought happily, as the almost scalding water poured itself into the tub from the steam fogged faucet. Greg had received notice of his promotion yesterday morning. He was now a branch manager of a nationwide loan and savings company. She was proud of her husband and his ability.

She took particular care pouring two more cap-fuls of bubble bath into the hot water as she thought of the night's entertainment that lay before her. She and Greg were to be guests of Martin and Darleen Kelly for the evening to celebrate the promotion.

Greg worked with Martin and though they had known each other only a few months, the two men had become fast friends, as well as the wives. The two couples had shared a great many evenings' entertainment together and now, tonight, they would again celebrate with added fervor. The Kellys knew how much the promotion meant to both Greg and Janet.

Curious and apprehensive she thought about what would happen when they went out. Greg had told her that they were going to a topless nightclub near downtown Los Angeles, about thirty minutes from their Hollywood home. Born and raised with all the modesty the Midwest had to offer, she was not sure how she would react to the bare breasts of other women as they bobbed and swayed to psychedelic music in front of a large crowd of people.

She felt she would be too embarrassed to stay through an entire show, but with all her courage she had tried to seem pleased when Greg had told her where they were going. Besides he had already reserved a table at Martin's suggestion. The Kellys were footing the bill, but wanted Greg to pick the entertainment he wished to see. Janet was not sure what to think when she heard that he wanted to see a topless show. It was so unlike him.

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

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

"How did you know it was me," Greg asked.

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

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

"Oh, no, Greg. Not tonight!"

"I'm afraid so, honey. The call came just ten minutes ago. There's an important meeting of branch managers from the larger cities. Speculation is that names are to be mentioned for nominations for three new district managers. Even though I was promoted only yesterday, there's a rumor that I'll be nominated as a possible selection for the future. So… The party will just have to wait. I'll be home in half an hour. Bye."

Janet didn't answer but only listened to the click on the other end of the line. Oh, why, she thought. Nothing ever seems to turn out right. Day and night he was away from her, working and slaving twelve to eighteen hours a day. For the last year he seemed to pay no attention to her, only his job. He should have married the finance company, she thought.

Halfheartedly she walked to the closet, slid open the door and began selecting clothes for him to take. I shouldn't think that, she considered. Greg is working so hard so that we can have a better future. She felt a pang of guilt for being mad at her husband. After all, his last promotion had meant another thirty five hundred dollars a year, and he seemed so enthusiastic about the Dallas meeting. Perhaps she was wrong in being so quick to judge him. His neglect in the bedroom was only from exhaustion, and exhaustion she thought was the result of his loving her. But it had been months… three months since he had touched her.

She stood before the mirror, her robe falling from her shoulders. Her hands cupped her breasts while she examined them carefully in the glass. There are no signs, she thought. Age hasn't come for me yet. For a moment she took a quick inventory of the rest of her body and decided that it was as good as it had ever been, then turned to continue the packing.

At five o'clock the front door opened. "Honey, are you dressed? Martin's with me."

Oh, no! she thought, when she heard his voice from the living room. She had hoped for at least a few minutes alone with him before he had to leave. Opening the bedroom door, she could see her husband mixing a fast Martini behind the bar in the den. She glanced at the gray flanneled back of the six foot, grey templed man standing in the center of the room, Martin Kelly.

"Hello, Martin," she said.

He turned to look at her, greeting her with a large grin as he always did. She smiled back at the soft, grey eyes that always seemed to penetrate her when they looked in her direction. Martin Kelly had no excess on his face or his body. Janet admired him for a quick second. She always marveled at how well he looked. Except for the greying temples she would never have thought him to be a day over thirty-two or three, but then, forty wasn't old either.

She walked past him and met Greg halfway across the room. He gave her a drink and handed one to Martin, neglecting to kiss her on the cheek as he had done for the first three years of their marriage. But had sadly neglected doing it since they had moved from Louisville. For some reason he hadn't had the inclination to give her that little kiss of reassurance that she needed so badly each time he came home in the evening. "To Dallas and a quick trip home," Martin proposed and the trio drank to the toast. Janet downed her Martini in one unusually quick gulp, the disappointment readily apparent in her face.

"Hey, that is not like you at all," Martin smiled to her and gestured playfully with his finger.

And Greg didn't even notice, she thought rather bitterly, "It was too good to waste by letting it warm," she smiled grimly back at Martin, not even looking at her husband. "Besides, I have to celebrate my husband's promotion all alone tonight, so I may as well get started early."

"That's almost right," Martin said and turned to Greg with a twinkle in his eye. "Shall I tell her?"

Greg nodded slightly as he drank. "Your travelling husband and I talked it over in the car and decided that you shouldn't miss a party just because your old man is out of town."

Martin's smile never faded as he talked. "Darleen and I will take you to the club without him. The table has already been reserved and everything has been especially ordered. Besides, I'm still not too old to squire two women at once, if it's only for one night."

"Oh, Martin, I don't know," she started, but he interrupted.

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

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

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

"Of course," she answered.

Greg broke in, "Enough is enough for both of you lovers. I've got a jet to catch. Come on Martin, let's get a move on."

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

"See you at eight," Martin shouted.

She nodded and smiled, watching the white convertible back from the driveway onto the street and roar off toward the corner and the airport. Goodnight, Greg, she thought and turned back into the house closing the door behind her, not wanting the fresh air to touch the single tear that had dropped to her cheek. A deep sense of loneliness rippled through her, a loneliness she had been carrying with her since Greg's move into the upper echelons of business, and one she hated with all her heart.

Two hours later Martin and Darleen Kelly shared a small pitcher of Martinis in their bedroom as he dressed. Darleen sat on the bed, propped up against the headboard with a large pillow behind her. At thirty six she looked every bit as good as the younger Janet, but her own self criticism and fear of growing older blinded her to the fact. Her black hair was cut in the latest Sassoon style. She wore a mini-shirt that revealed a year round tan on her full, sensual thighs and nearly every man she came into contact with looked at her with more than just idle curiosity. She was a beautiful woman, but no man could take advantage of her and she knew it. It was usually the other way around.

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

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

"You are too, too funny," she told him. "I hope you're right, though."

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

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

"But don't forget your part of the plan," he said, ignoring her jibe. "Greg probably won't be that easy."

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

"You are anxious, aren't you?"

"Jealous?"

"A little, perhaps, but I always am, for a moment at least. But that doesn't last longer than it takes me to get into the rack with your friends."

"You had better hurry," she said looking at her drink.

Martin finished adjusting his tie and brushed back the grey at his temples with his hands. "I'm ready, with time to spare. I wonder how she's going to react when I tell her you have a migraine? And," he added as an afterthought, "Wherever you go tonight, stay on the other side of town, away from the club. If she saw you it might ruin everything."

"I don't think it will but I'll stay away from your little precious game. I should find entertainment somewhere tonight, like maybe at Peter's club. There's always more than enough excitement there."

"Well, don't let your excitement stay too long if you bring him home. I'll be back before three," he said as he left the room, hurrying so that he would be knocking on Janet's front door at exactly eight o'clock.

Janet had been ready for twenty minutes when she heard Martin rap at the door. She gulped the last of her Martini, the fourth since Martin and her husband had left, and walked rather unsteadily to the door.

Martin entered and walked her to the living room where her mink stole lay haphazardly across the back of the chair. She told him she would fix him a drink but wouldn't have one herself. He refused and picked up the mink.

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

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

He smiled at her as he closed the door of the convertible, then walked to the other side. Once seated he turned over the big engine and pulled away from the curb. Janet usually paid attention when Martin drove. She thought he was still a teenager at heart, the way he sped through residential areas, not to mention the ninety mile an hour rides on the freeways, but tonight she didn't care how he drove. Her thoughts were centered around Greg and her marriage. Confused and hurt she had no idea how to recapture her husband from his work. She decided that she didn't care about the money, about the big promotions, the house, anything. She wanted her husband back. He has been a stranger too long, she thought almost desperately. I must find a way.

Was it possible that she was losing, or perhaps, had already lost her sex appeal. Her mind searched every avenue trying to discover the real cause for her husband's neglect. Her ears were deaf to Martin's continuous flow of words as they drove along the freeway at his usual ninety miles an hour. Janet was oblivious to the traffic and the danger. Her mind was already fogged by too many martini's.

Perhaps, she thought, she could make Greg jealous. Then he would pay attention to her. He would have to. It certainly wouldn't be hard. She wouldn't have to do anything. She could be secretive about her night out with Martin when Greg asked her how the party went. There could be no harm in that. Martin was a good friend.

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

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

It is a good idea, she though, turning her attention to the man behind the steering wheel. Her eyes searched the lines of his profile looking for discrepancies, but could find none. I wonder, she thought, how he is to Darleen in bed. "Oh," she said out loud, amazed that she could have had such a lewd thought. Never in her life had she any ideas relating to other people's sex life. It had always been a private thing, not to be discussed or even thought of.

"What was that for," Martin asked her.

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

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

Not wanting to spoil the evening for Martin, too, she said, "Of course, I want to go. These silly things will go away. All I have to do is hold my breath…" she took in a lungfull of air, raising her large firm breasts higher, straining against her dress. For nearly a minute she imprisoned the air in her lungs, while her face reddened under her light make-up. "… Like that," she said, exhaling, "and they'll be gone. See! Hiccup!"

They both laughed at her failure to rid herself of the slight discomfort. "Try putting your head between your knees and holding your breath again," Martin said. "That works when nothing else does."

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

Janet kept her head between her knees a little longer than necessary. Alcohol and her sudden wicket thoughts of what Martin would be like in bed gave her the bravado of a little daring that she had never experienced before. She enjoyed having Martin look at her legs as she knew he was doing it but it couldn't hurt anything, and besides, she half giggled to herself, she was titillated by the cool air from the vents blowing around her opened thighs.

She had a smile on her face as she lifted her head up and exhaled. "I think they're gone," she said, waiting a moment to be sure. She purposely left her skirt high on her thighs. She enjoyed the cool air. She wasn't ashamed of feeling slightly excited, if only in thought. Why not? It can't hurt anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brace yourself, Janet thought as they neared the door, but somehow she didn't feel as nervous about going to a topless show as she had before. The five Martinis has relaxed her nervous code of ethics until she saw the billboard in front of the club.

"FIRST IN LOS ANGELES — TOPLESS AND BOTTOMLESS."

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

Janet felt her sobriety weaken as she entered the club. Strobe lights beat a weird rhythm to the music. For a brief moment she focused her eyes to the strange light and discovered that she was having trouble walking with the lights beating at her eyes in the off and on strange patterns.

She glanced at the stage to see six overlarge breasts bouncing to the wild music. Quickly she lowered her eyes to the floor to watch her feet follow Martin and the Maitre d' to their table.

"Anything wrong," Martin asked her, knowing all the while she was shocked.

She shook her head bravely and he ordered cocktails from the waiter, her moving head only further confusing her senses. The strobe lights beat a strange and haunting rhythm on her brain and body. The potion in the flash had taken effect, but she refused to recognize it at first. She watched the dancer until she heard Martin's voice at her ear.

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

"Oh, no, Martin," she quickly apologized. "It's just that I've never seen anything like this before. I wonder how those girls must feel up there with nothing covering them, dancing hour after hour. They must be awfully bored."

"Probably no more bored than you."

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

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

"I don't understand."

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

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

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

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

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

Martin smiled under the flashing strobes. It was going even easier than he thought. "Is it alright to ask what is wrong between you and Greg?" he said.

"I'd tell you if I knew," she said. "But there seems to be no answer. I've thought it was his work, but even on the weekends he is too busy for me. I guess I'm just losing my sex appeal. I'm old before my time."

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

"Martin, you're so sweet."

Yeah, I'm sweet, he thought. "Let's dance. The music is slower for a minute or two. They've got to give those dancers a break sometime."

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

Her breasts were straining through her dress against him. She wore no bra and the taut nipples nearly pierced the thin, sheer material. Greg had never let her wear a bra, saying that it weakened her pectoral muscles. He was right, she thought, as she felt her breasts crushed harder against Martin's strong body. She could feel his leg slip between hers as they danced. A light dampness eased its way from her vagina to the pink lips of her vulva, giving her warning. She had never felt like this by just dancing. There seemed to be no explanation for the fire that was building inside her. She tried to pull away from Martin. Making Greg jealous was a good plan, but she didn't want to go too far.

But Martin had other plans. He knew the potion was affecting the girl as it was affecting him. Instead of allowing her to move away he tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her tighter. Even though afraid, she felt comfort in his arms and her body clung involuntarily to him as though she suddenly had no control over it.

Janet closed her eyes, trying to put the flashing strobes out of range, but their intense light shown through her eyelids and seemed to beat harder into her mind. The tempo of the music had increased yet the pair held close to each other, still dancing with their bodies almost as one. The young wife's mind was playing sexual fantasies deep within her. Her body was responding. She could feel her breasts heaving against Martin, with only the thin veneer of light summer clothing between his chest and her taut nipples.

The music, liquor and aphrodisiac had become too much for her. She opened her eyes, seeing a single topless dancer undulating on the stage. Janet began to dance the same patterns as the girl as she pushed away from Martin.

Soul music, Janet thought. I can feel it! I can feel it! She jerked her body in rhythm, throwing her arms, feeling her breasts bounce beneath the sheer white dress. She was perspiring, aware only of the hot flashes of abandonment coursing through her body.

As she danced, she watched the single girl on the stage. Instead of being embarrassed, as perhaps, she normally would have, she was intent on becoming that girl. The dancer's bare breasts moved with halting grace under the influence of the rotating lights. Janet's imagination transported her to the stage, dancing half-nude in front of more than two hundred people, throwing her arms in the controlled sensual movements of a professional Go-Go Girl.

Her hips jerked to the beat, perfectly in tune with her bouncing breasts. She felt free, alive. She was in a sexual world of her own, but wanting, needing a man. Suddenly the dancer on the stage unfastened her G-string and let it fall to the floor, exposing the thin, open slit of her clean-shaven womanhood.

Janet felt no shock at the sudden display. Instead she remained dancing, now nude in her own mind. To her, reality was not on the dance floor, but on the stage. She was that girl. She was totally naked before the crowd. Her loins were on fire and she was a woman! She was a woman!

She looked at Martin, dancing three feet from her, imitating the same soul searing African movements of the dance. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. She began dancing for him, not aware of who he was. His image was fogged before her. This, for the moment was her man and… she was his woman!

The fire between her legs grew as she threw up her arms and tossed her head from side to side in a dance that imitated the sexual act. Her hips thrust forward, again and again and Martin responded by moving closer, grinding his pelvis at her as though he were taking her right there on the dance floor.

Their bodies were inches from each other. One of Martin's legs was between hers as they danced, rubbing against her exposed thigh. Her miniskirt was hiked high on her legs as she bent backward and forward in the most primeval motions of dance.

She watched Martin's hand come slowly toward her like a snake in the Garden of Eden, beckoning, urging her to come closer. The hand found her waist and drew her closer until their bodies touched at their loins. Janet could feel his penis hard beneath his trousers, straining at her. She ground her hips against him. Her mouth was opening, breathing heavily, spurred salaciously on by the growing fire inside her. The lights flashed in brilliant colors on her half-open lids. She put her hand on the back of his neck, leaning backward, pushing her enflamed crotch against his straining penis. She stared at him, her eyes searching for his identity. Each beat of the drum pounded at her, exciting her further. She could feel their bodies touching, touching. She imagined them to be on a bed, ready for each other, ready for the final thrust that would connect their flesh together.

Martin pulled her closer, then suddenly kissed her, crushing her lips against his open mouth, thrusting his tongue deep into her throat.

Oh my God, she thought. What is happening! The shock of the sudden kiss had awakened her from the wild, sexual stupor. She wanted the kiss, but knew it was wrong. They mustn't. "No, Martin…" she tried to say, struggling away from him. She was frightened, knowing that he still excited her, that she wanted him. But she had gone too far. She must stop. She turned and walked quickly, but unsteadily from the dance floor toward the door, bumping into people as she left. Martin followed her to the outside, picking up her wrap at the hat check.

CHAPTER TWO

Ashamed of herself, Janet whimpered quietly as the white convertible sped along the freeway. Now I've ruined our friendship, she thought bitterly. How could I have led him so far? I only wanted to make Greg jealous and now I'll hurt Martin. How selfish could I have been to have thought I could use him like that?

Deep in self accusation Janet failed to notice the bright lights of the exit turnoff. Martin had driven off the freeway far from either of their homes. He knew exactly where he was going. The girl, far on the other side of the car, paid no attention to him, but he didn't care at that moment. He knew the liquor and sex potion were still powerful enough to turn her on again if he played it carefully. Her seduction was assured. The plan was working perfectly and with no possibility of flaws.

Janet watched the lights of the city grow smaller as they drove up Mulholland Drive. Her senses were still fogged. Each impression that she received through her eyes was a singular, momentary one, giving her time to analyze each light, each sense. She felt as if she had been smoking Acapulco Gold, an exceptionally strong Marijuana that she and Greg had tried once at a wild party. The drug had scared her and she had never attempted to try it again.

But for now she needed no Gold. Her mind slowly drifted to peace as she watched the beautiful city unfold below her. It spread for miles in lines of brilliant lights, illuminating every block of the Los Angeles valley. She felt completely alone until the car pulled into a secluded parking spot at the topmost viewpoint of the drive.

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

Janet said nothing as she followed him toward the edge of the cliff. They watched in silence for a minute. She was awed by the creations of electrical engineers that had illuminated one of the largest cities in the world with bulbs of every size, shape and color, giving it an almost supernatural glow.

It seemed perfectly natural to her that Martin should put his arms around her waist as he stood behind her, looking over her soft shoulders at the spectacle below. They still were friends, she thought, and she felt strangely at home in his arms. For a moment the guilt returned. But I'm not using him now, she thought, desperately trying to convince herself that the lewd sensations flickering through her body meant nothing. We're friends! That's all, just friends!

The rationalizing thought kept pounding through her mind — and then was gone — as Martin slowly lifted his arms, positioning his hands at the fullness of her quivering breasts. He cupped their firmness with his large palms and fingers, prodding at them as they stood quivering straight out from her heaving chest. He could feel the taut nipples pulsating eagerly beneath the thin material of the light dress. The cool air and events of the night had kept them almost hard since they had been dancing half an hour before at the discotheque and his expert ministrations urged them on. Janet's head lolled back without resistance against his shoulder as he urgently massaged her soft, resilient flesh. She put her hands over his, entwining their fingers. "Ooooh, Martin," she murmured softly, her body shifting with the movements of his hands. There was no thought now of her husband, no thought of the man she had vowed to love. Only the gentle urgings of the hands manipulating her flesh into the white hot heat of desire.

Cupping her hands over his at her breasts, she started to turn, but Martin took the lead and pulled her around to him. They stood, their bodies touching full length and looked at each other. He's so good, she thought. So gentle. Nothing he could do would be wrong… nothing… A rock hard bulge in his trousers twitched involuntarily against her smooth, flat belly. She could feel the dampness between her legs renewed as her suddenly salacious thoughts envisioned what the huge swollen member would feel like worming around deep inside her. There was no turning back now. It was good… soooo good. And almost eagerly she let Martin draw her lips to his and kiss her, softly at first, then more urgently.

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

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

"Oh, Martin," she cried, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. "Do it to me, Martin." Her words were those of a woman who hungered for escape from the fears that plagued every young wife. She was afraid of being alone, afraid of being unloved and her words came as a surprise to her too, but she did not try to take them back. She had said them, and she somehow, through the honesty of her alcohol and drug-dimmed mind, knew she wanted him. The drug had taken complete control of her mind and body and nothing else mattered.

Martin smiled triumphantly to himself and thought for a moment to take her right where they stood, but held himself back and led her trance-like to the open car door. He had not released his hold on her. His hand fondled her one breast as the other hand reached for a lever on the back of one seat, releasing a catch that held it upright.

Janet smiled to herself dazedly as she watched the seat descend to a reclining position, then bent and robot-like entered the car. She released the other catch herself and rolled onto her back on the seat as it fell gently back. She lay back trembling on the car seat, her legs slightly parted and waiting to be taken. And, in spite of her desire, she was slightly afraid. It was all new to her. For all practical purposes she felt like a virgin. No man had ever touched her except her husband, but now he seemed like only a dream. Everything was so unreal. Each movement of arms and legs and bodies as the couple came together in a fiery embrace, was slow motion, preplanned, unhindered by inhibition.

She felt his legs tangled in hers, pressing hard against her thighs. He kissed her neck. His moist tongue pursued a course under her throat and down her chest to the valley between her breasts. She reveled in his touch. No man had touched her in the last three months. No lips had tried to caress her breasts as these were doing. She felt him slip the straps of her dress over her shoulders and pull the top lower until suddenly her quivering, erect nipples were free in the air, free to be touched and tantalized.

"Ooh, yes," she whispered. "That feels so good." The girl spread her thighs farther so that she could feel the fullness of his strong thighs pressing against the wetness between her legs.

Janet responded to the grasp on her wrist as he pulled her hand down to his throbbing penis. She voluntarily stroked the massive muscle that was trying to free itself from the imprisonment of his clothing. She rubbed softly at first, then harder, exciting her partner. For a moment she stopped as he half rose and stripped her dress from her body.

Martin halted long enough to look down in the dim moonlight at the sleek, sensuous curves that lay beneath him. There was no flaw, no blemish. He could see the darkened patch of soft pubic hair beneath the white silk bikini panties she wore. He tugged at them and she lifted her hips to ease their removal.

While Martin hurriedly undressed himself she lay hypnotically back, watching, waiting for the moment she would see his straining cock spring free from his shorts. It was as large as any she had imagined. Even when she had been stroking it she had not thought it would be as large as this. Greg was nothing compared to the giant of a man that kneeled on the car seat beside her and a shiver of lewd anticipation rippled through her again as she thought of its thickness grinding around deep up inside her belly.

For a moment he knelt above her trembling form, his breath coming in quick, excited gasps. Then he fell upon her, ravaging the softness of her naked flesh with warm, wet kisses. His cock pressed hard against the outside of her thigh. Its heat searing into her tortured nerves. She writhed against him, trying to get him to change his position, but he was the leader. They would make love as he wanted, when he wanted.

He ran his hand quickly down her sides and across the soft, silken mound at the base of her belly. She could feel the fingers grope for a moment, spreading the softness of her pubic hair, then finding the smooth, fleshy slit between her legs, suddenly slip into place and begin gently massaging her swollen clitoris.

"Oh, oh, oh," she gasped.

It had been so long and now, forbidden, she was going to be taken by another man, by her husband's best friend. She lifted her hips to meet his finger and increase the pressure.

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

Martin responded by swiftly slipping his finger into her open vagina. He pushed deeply.

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

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

"How do you like that?" he asked.

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

He moved his fingers back and forth inside her, like a small child walking with his fingers. Janet closed her eyes and pumped her loins upward again and again. Her vaginal opening was tight from so little use, but it seemed to flower open farther and farther as his probing fingers excited her to greater and greater heights, seeming to remove all the ugly frustration of the last few months.

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

Her cries excited him even further. He was no longer in complete control. His friend, Greg's wife, underneath him was all that he expected and more. Her desires were so hot, so urgent, that he was compelled by his own impatience to meet them. "Yes, now," he said and guided his massive cock up between her wide-spread legs and against the small, tight opening of her cunt. He probed for a moment, teasing the soft, hair-lined lips and feeling the wet, raw flesh beneath it open wider.

He lowered himself upon her. "Oooooooooooh, oooooooooh!" she cried as she felt the hot, huge head slip wetly inside her, worming slowly into her yearning passage and filling her with all the hardened flesh she could stand.

Outside the car it was pitch-black above the city lights below, but inside the white convertible bright flashes of white and blue lights electrified the air. Janet's lust-incited senses completely controlled her as her husband's best friend thrust his cock deeper and deeper up into her heaving belly. She thrashed her head from side to side. "Oh more, more!" she cried aloud, locking her legs open wider to take him as deep as she could.

Martin was surprised at her fury and her lust-abandoned moans excited him further. He stopped for a moment, his great prick sunk inside her to the hilt, his balls brushing lightly against the soft, rounded moons of her ass. She thrashed her head from side to side, her mouth open, tears of wild, erotic pleasure in her eyes. She was full, complete!

She was a woman again!

Then the blood-filled muscle inside her began to stroke slowly in and out between her legs, a few inches at first. Out for an inch or two, then slipping wetly back inside again as Martin took control of himself. He wanted this to last; he wanted Greg's wife to remember this so she'd have no bitches later. Janet groaned as she felt the movement caressing the smooth, wet walls of her pussy. She lifted her knees higher and braced the bottom of her feet against the roof of the car. Her buttocks strained up off the seat, her throbbing vagina reaching hungrily up for the white hot rod of flesh as it began to increase its pitch. In perfect control, Martin guided his straining cock with hard, merciless precision, lengthening each stroke a fraction of an inch more with each grinding thrust. Greg's wife groaning beneath him, settled into the rhythm, meeting his driving pelvis with her own, her wet, contracting cunt tormented beyond her wildest dreams.

Her insides were about to burst. With each stroke the brilliant strobe-like flashes in her mind intensified. She thrust upward, harder and harder, trying to fill herself completely with him. Never had such a great cock fucked her, never had she known such excitement.

She dug her nails into his buttocks. Her lover's hands grasped at her flesh, nearly pulling it from her. The pain of his strong grip heightened her pleasure. Every measured inch of her body was on fire with dancing electric shocks snaking their way at the speed of light through her body, throwing her into a nether world, beyond the reality of the world outside, concentrating her entire being on the fucking she was getting.

Her buttocks began to tighten spastically. The muscles grasped at the cock driving into her and flexed desperately around it. Her anus puckered again and again, and she tried to hold back for a moment longer, making the seconds last. Even in her wild, untamed fury everything was slow motion. Each second seemed like a minute. The muscles in her belly responded to the call of her clasping buttocks and warning anus. The time was coming!

A great wave welled up inside her. The first convulsion was slow in coming. It started lazily, far down in the depths of her quivering belly and rolled downward like the sea with increasing power until it hit the bottom of her grinding pelvis at her opening, crashing against her just as Martin's pelvic bone crushed into her.

The next came faster, snapping like a whip. She screamed, "Aaarrrggghhhh! Now! God, I'm cummming now, oh, oh, I'm cummmmmmiiiiinnnnng! Aaarrgghh!!"

She jerked up as her entire being seemed to snap. Again and again the waves of orgasm crashed against the cliffs of her soul as she rebounded with them, jerking upward again and again. Her orgasmic juices filled her desperately sucking vaginal passage, lubricating it more and more.

Her flowing juices halfway through her climax brought Martin to his end. Like a giant Kodiak bear he rose up, throwing his head in circles to the side. "Aaaarrrrgggghhhhhh!" he roared like an animal about to attack. The pressure in his balls burst as the hot fluids erupted out through his straining tubes and spurted from his reddened cock deep into her open cunt.

She was still cumming when she felt his juices hotly filling her belly, adding more wood to the fire. "Oh. OOOOooh, perfect, oooooh!" she cried out, her head rolling helplessly from side to side on the squeaking car seat.

Completely spent, Martin fell on top of her. She was crushed by his weight. Her eyes were closed, but her attention was still focused on the furnace within her. They had finished, her legs dropping limply to her sides. The moment of remembrance, of savoring the entire act now occupied her.

She lay still, thinking of the pleasure she had experienced. Martin breathed heavily by her ear. But, also with the end of the climax had come the end of the aphrodisiac's effect and Janet's dazed mind began to focus on what she had done. It felt so good, yet it was so wrong, she thought through the rising guilt. Oh God, what am I going to do? I can't tell Greg, yet I don't know what to say to Martin. It was my fault, she thought, unaware that she had been drugged. All my fault!

"We had better go," Martin said as he lifted himself from between her thighs. He handed her the white panties, still moist with the fluids of her earlier excitement and she said nothing as she dressed in the car. Small tears began to fill her eyes. She didn't want to hurt this man. He was so kind and yet the guilt and shame of her betrayal of her husband lay heavily within her.

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

CHAPTER THREE

The white convertible turned into the alleyway that led to the Richards' suburban home. Martin turned off the lights as he guided the sleek '68 model car along the narrow roadway until they were behind her house. She lay half lifeless on the seat beside him.

Her tears had dried streaks of mascara on her cheeks. She had cried for most of the ride until finally no more tears would come. No matter what had been going wrong between she and Greg, it was no reason for infidelity. Her mind was made up. She would tell Martin that the mistake would not happen again. She would not tell Greg, and beg, if she had to, for Martin not to disclose what had happened. With this new understanding, perhaps both the Kelly's and the Richards could work out their marital problems. She had no fear. Firm in her convictions, she felt like Joan of Arc, ready to do battle for what she believed was right. There was no other course.

"Wake up," Martin told her. He was unaware that she only feigned sleep. "You're home now. Wake up, Janet."

She turned and shook her head as if to thrust the sleep from her foggy mind. Rather than talk on the drive home, she had pretended to pass out. It saved unnecessary talking and had given her the time she needed to think.

"I'm awake, Martin," she said as he got out of the car and walked to the other side to let her out. "You don't have to walk me to the door. I'm fine. Besides, there is something I want to tell you now. If we can get this straight, then there will be no problems."

"You can tell me inside," he said as he opened the screen door, taking the key from her hand and unlocking the door. "What we need is some hot coffee if we plan to talk."

"No, Martin, really…"

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

Janet did not want him in the house. This was her refuge from Martin and the outside world. It belonged to her and to Greg. "Martin, please, not tonight."

"I like mine black," he said curtly, walking through the swinging door to the living room as though he owned the house.

Janet stood in the glaring light for a moment, not knowing what to do. Perhaps, if she gave him the coffee, she could make him understand. She turned, looking for the coffee, but could not remember where she kept it in her own kitchen. Get a hold on yourself, she thought, as tears started to fill her weary eyes again. How am I going to do anything if I fall apart. Where is the coffee? The white canister stood where it always had on the counter next to the built-in range.

She walked to the counter and removed the wooden lid. Automatically she scooped six tablespoons of the freshly ground beans into the clean white pot. Staring at the percolator she became impatient that it would not perk immediately. This is ridiculous, she thought. I'm standing in my own kitchen making coffee for a man who has just screwed me in his hopped up automobile, a man who is supposed to be my husband's best friend, and now I've used him, and he is going to think it represents something more. Why must I have these problems? Not even the damn coffee pot will work right. What is becoming of me. Am I so rotten as to hurt Martin as well as Greg? Please hurry, coffee!

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

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

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

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

"Those magazines have good advice, Martin. Maybe if more women read them, and maybe men, too, you and I wouldn't have the marriage problems we do," she said, handing him a cup of hot black coffee. "Thank you. Here, have some of this," he said, pulling the leather covered flask from his pocket. "I saved some for us."

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

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

"Martin, we were drunk…"

"Oh, hell, who are you trying to kid. You were as horny as a Goddamn bitch in heat."

"Please," she said. "Try to listen. I don't want you to misunderstand. You must believe me. I…"

"Drink your coffee. We came inside for coffee didn't we?" he said. "Don't shake your head. Drink your coffee!" Janet obeyed. His tone frightened her, and she picked up the cup, sipping at the laced drink. Surprisingly the liquor he had poured into the cup wasn't bitter at all. It added a little something to the taste, more of a tang, than an alcoholic taste. She took a big gulp. Martin smiled.

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

Martin laughed. He spilled some of his coffee. Use me, he thought, that has got to be the ultimate. She wanted to use me. He couldn't stop laughing.

"What's so funny? What did I say, Martin? I didn't mean to hurt you." His laughter increased to an almost roar. "Stop it! Please stop it!" she screamed.

He settled down for a moment, still smiling his contemptuous smile. Neither said anything for almost a minute. Janet was terrified at the grin on his face. For the first time since she had known Martin, she was aware that there was more to his smile than mirth. "Why-why were you laughing at me?" she asked.

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

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

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

"Sure you did. But do you think for one minute that I'm going to believe you. You work well, and fast. I never saw a woman so eager to fuck."

"Martin!" she exclaimed, unable to say any more. The word had shocked her, but the thought it conjured only excited her. She could not understand the sudden erection of her nipples as he had said it. She was afraid of the eyes that looked intently at her.

"What do you plan to do, Janet? Tell Greggy boy that his little wife took his best friend out and screwed him in his car like a teenager?" he said, his grin widening. "No, I don't think you will. I'm still his best friend, and a deceitful man would believe a friend before he would believe a deceitful wife."

"What do you mean deceitful man?"

"For Chrissake, don't tell me you don't know that your precious husband is a thief."

"What? You're wrong. You're lying, Martin. Why? Stop it. Please don't."

"He didn't tell you, did he?" Martin said, knowing that she was innocent of her husband's wrong-doings. "How do you think that you can afford this nice house, or the new car or the color television and stereo? Do you think Greggy boy did it all with his own little hands. Well, on second thought, he did," he laughed again, "but with sticky fingers."

He watched her shocked look. Tears streamed down her already tear stained face in long black streaks from her mascara. Impossible! she thought. Greg would never lie to me. He would never steal. Martin watched her for a moment. "Your display of loyalty and shock is touching, but entirely useless. If you didn't know before that he was stealing, then I'm doing you a favor by showing you that your husband is a man you can't trust to tell you his most important secret, the one that is haunting him, keeping him out of your bed. But then, he may have found another bed more to his liking. If he could lie to you about this, he could certainly lie to you about screwing another woman."

"Please," she sobbed. "It's not true! I know it's not!"

He ignored her plea. "I can prove every word of it, at least about the embezzlement. And if I tried hard enough, I could probably find a mistress of his somewhere in town. I know him well enough. Probably better than you do."

Janet absorbed his words slowly, one at a time. The drug had already taken effect, accenting his usual precise speech and manner. He took another sip of coffee. "He can't trust himself, how will he be able to trust you either." He said. "Imagine the look on his face if he had seen us in the car."

"Oh, Martin, how could you? I thought you were so…"

"So sweet? Wasn't that what you said earlier? It's about time you learned that there is very little in this world that is sweet, starting now."

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

"Do you think you could afford to expose us to Greg? Would it be worth his life in prison to you? You are going to do everything I tell you Janet, and without delay. If not, Greg will spend the best years of his life in jail."

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

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

Janet sat motionless as he moved across the couch to her. Her coffee was gone and the drug held her in complete submission to whatever would be demanded of her.

"I'm going to see a lot more of you," he said. "Starting now."

"What do you mean?" she asked between the soft heaving sobs coming from her throat. The girl had begun to regain control, but still did not completely understand what he wanted of her. The shock she had suffered, realizing that he was not the kind man she had thought still clouded her mental senses. She could not quite grasp what he wanted. Afraid to admit that he wanted her for a part time bed partner, she tried to find other solutions, but nothing would suffice.

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

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

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

It was true, she thought. There is no way out of this but if he will only leave now, I'll be safe until I can think of something.

"You're trembling. Are you afraid?"

Janet could not answer. Her voice was caught in her throat. Though she felt the heat from the fireplace, her body shivered with chills. It might have been easier for her if she hadn't already submitted to Martin once. But the thought of his lovemaking moved another shudder through her body. She had enjoyed it. There remained no doubt of that. Martin was more experienced than Greg. He knew how to make her feel like a woman wanted to feel. But… The nagging fear, the strict Midwestern upbringing, the morals of a church centered society still plagued her. She was married to Greg for better or worse. I just can't, she thought. I just can't do it again with another man.

"I want some more of that tight little pussy of yours." Martin said grinning lewdly and looking down at her exposed knees.

Janet reached nervously for the small pot trying to stall him off. "I don't mean coffee, baby, we're going upstairs, to bed. There's enough aphrodisiacs in the two cups that we've had to keep us going all night."

Janet recoiled at his words, she didn't know what to think. Had she really been drugged? Was all of this such an evil plan, that every detail had been taken care of. Janet suddenly realized that more than a victim of circumstance, she had become a victim of a drug, a horrible drug that took her control away.

Aware of the cause, she now knew why everything had gone into slow motion. She knew why his touch had been so satisfying, so intriguing. "Let's go," he said. "I don't like to waste time."

The girl refused to stand and he pulled her to her feet. "We're going to screw in your husband's bed. Won't you like that?" he said smiling. "I'm going to fuck you like never before, and you won't stop begging for it until you can't take anymore!"

His words were true. She knew that he could do all that he said and the sounds that vibrated through her head as he spoke intensified the growing feeling inside her. She stood helpless as he turned her around and unfastened the back of her dress and let it fall to the floor. Her panties were in her purse, where she had put them after they had finished in the car. She was completely naked and exposed to the fire whose flaming warmth licked over the sensitive nerves of her skin like some evil tongue of the devil of lust. Her nipples rose at the sudden exposure to the air. She stared straight ahead as though in a trance as he surveyed her body. But, in spite of her immobility, she seemed to sense the physical presence of his eyes as they traveled over the whiteness of her body, looking searchingly for flaws that they would not find.

Martin undressed himself as she stood a few feet from him. His penis was soft and swayed as he stepped toward her. That was the organ which had given her so much before, she thought. And now, it didn't seem to be what she wanted, but her body knew differently. A dampness swelled in her vagina lubricating her passage and softening the already soft, silken lips of her vulva.

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

Janet stopped and turned on the stairs to look down at the man following behind her. She watched his large, still soft penis swing back and forth like a pendulum as he climbed the last two steps. Then, when his face was level with her loins, he bent forward and kissed the silken hair on her pubic mound. His lips seared lewdly through and into the nakedness of her overheated skin. She could feel his tongue wet a small portion of her flesh and the goose bumps rise all over her as it brought an involuntary shudder rippling through her body.

Oh no! I can't do this, she thought, helplessly, and turned panic-stricken to run into her private bedroom, seeking sanctuary. It was her domain, hers and Greg's. No one could intrude. It was her fortress, her castle, fortified with the strength of her love for her husband. Nothing could conquer that. She was safe! Safe!

But, a moment later, Martin entered the room. His smile was still bright, even in the dim light. He was a man sure of himself, sure in the knowledge that he could possess this girl anyway he wished and no one, particularly her, would stop him.

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

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

Janet sat looking at him. Her gaze was transfixed on his eyes. She clenched her hands into the bed spread and spoke. "I can't do this, Martin. I don't care what the cost." But her words were soft. There was no authority and only a minor note of conviction. Janet knew that the speech she was trying to make would do no good. Her body was warm. A fire was building down between her legs, a fire stoked only by the obscene picture of the naked man standing before her and for some reason she knew she would not be able to resist if he so much as touched her.

Martin walked toward her. Standing only a foot from her he held out his hand and touched her breast, teasing a nipple with his fingers. His large penis hung waiting, like a patient cobra between his legs. It was soft and heavy. "You've finished with your childish tantrum, I hope?" he questioned, knowing the answer in advance.

He pulled her closer to him, holding her head close to his hairy stomach. She could smell the odors from their sexual encounter an hour before and her heart began beating faster. Her fear was transforming to sexual excitement. "Suck it!" he commanded pushing her head lower to his penis. "I want it in that pretty little mouth now. Suck it!"

Janet was frightened at what he had said but her vagina involuntarily filled with more fluids as the lewd, obscene thought whirled around in her confused mind. She had read of felatio in some of the magazines, but never had tried it with Greg. It was too awful, too perverse! "I can't," she groaned, "please, Martin, don't make me do it. I just can't."

But the heavy hand on her head pushed her mouth closer to the soft, smooth tip that hung a few tantalizing inches from her face.

Tears flowed from her eyes, across her cheeks to the skin of his abdomen. And slowly as though she were hypnotized, she took the cock in her hand, kissing gingerly. It wouldn't bite, she knew that, but it wasn't right, it wasn't human.

But, it was hot in her palm. "Suck it!" he commanded fiercely.

She hesitantly leaned forward and kissed the top of his penis, moving her mouth toward the end. The head was terrifying. Her fear was terrifying, but she must obey. There was no other way. She must obey Martin and the new, exciting craving deep within her belly.

Her lipstick covered lips opened slightly and the soft rubbery head slipped easily into her saliva filled mouth.

It was larger than the average man's, certainly larger than Greg's and it slowly began to grow even larger in her mouth. She didn't notice it at first as she sucked it gently and rubbed her tongue softly at the loose foreskin on the bottom. It grew more quickly as it filled with blood and Janet's eyes opened wide with alarm as it responded excitedly to her wet, nibbling caresses. But, oh God, it was growing too fast. It would be too big for her mouth!

She started to release her grip on it, but he pulled her head back harder against him. The massive cock seemed almost white hot as it grew to its full size against her tongue, hard and throbbing. She could feel his quickened pulse as the great prick pulsated impassionedly in her mouth.

Unable to catch her breath, she gasped. She was choking on the massive flesh that reached back toward her throat, but Martin kept his grip on her head, and she found herself adjusting by necessity to the intrusion. Careful not to bite him, lest she incur his wrath, she slowly and deliberately began to suck again, moving her head almost imperceptibly back and forth.

"Use your tongue more, you hot little bitch," he growled down at her, his eyes locked lustfully on the top of her bobbing head as he watched the elastic flesh of her ovalled lips drawing out slowly and then sinking back inside again as she slid them forward.

Eager to please she began swirling her tongue around it as best she could as she sucked at him. Her head moved faster as it slid back and forth along the length of his cock, never allowing it to leave her mouth completely but always leaving a tiny fraction of an inch inside the shelter of the warm, moist cavern of lips.

Martin held his head back, no longer holding her head. He was still standing as she sucked him. The wetness of her mouth and the constant sucking had put him into a euphoria. He clenched his buttocks in rhythmic flexing movement, in tune with her head as it slid along the length of his huge cock.

"Hum," he commanded. The single word was enough for her to begin making a humming sound in her throat and nasal passages. She felt completely debauched. Not only must she suck this man but she must submit to his even more depraved demands. Tears filled her eyes as the sound of her humming grew louder in her eyes. She wanted to scream, she wanted to stop and run out of her bedroom, out of the world.

But it was too late, for as she sucked and moved more and more, a new feeling was creeping into her mind. Urged by the needs of her body, and coupled with the sound of her voice, she felt a passion rising in her. She could feel every inch of the twitching cock in her mouth and the hair of his muscular thighs brushing against her breasts as she moved. Instead of revolting her, it suddenly became an object of desire. She began to suck harder, wanting more and more. There wasn't enough! Wasn't enough!

She could hardly keep her breath as she tried gasping for air, sucking all the time, working at her salivic glands trying to get more moisture into her mouth. She wanted it wetter, hotter! She wanted him to come in her mouth, filling her with the white hot fluids she now felt she could not live without! She wanted to be debauched and used as she had never been before! Oh God, she wanted it!

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

Martin's gasp changed. "Aaarrgggghhhhh," he moaned aloud as the dam behind his balls broke. His hips jerked forward, ramming into her mouth as the hot liquid fluids spurted deep into her throat, spewing more and more of his cum. She was nearly choking, trying to swallow the thick, warm liquid as it filled her mouth, bloating out her cheeks almost to the bursting point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, please… Please fuck me, suck me, anything, just do it to me! Now, please!" she begged, her head lolling helplessly from side to side on the mattress.

Janet could not believe her own words. She had never ever consciously said words like that before, but he was forcing her now. Each time he spoke something more cruel was done to her. She knew she would never ever be the same again. How could she face herself after saying them. He mind whirled in a haze. Tears of confusion, shame and passion flowed freely from her eyes, but the fire licking down in her belly needed quenching. "Please," she cried unashamedly, "Please fuck me. Ooooohhh, please!"

Martin was smiling again. This was exactly what he had wanted. With her so excited, so confused he could do what he pleased with her helpless body. He kneeled on the bed and she put her arms up to pull him onto her, but his cock wasn't hard yet. He would worry about that later.

He picked up her right foot in one hand and kissed the bottom. A chill ran up her leg like a zipper opening every pore on her thigh. No one had kissed her foot before. It was totally new, totally exciting. She felt as if his tongue had reached into the depths of her very being.

Carefully, slowly, he kissed at her foot, moving slowly to her ankles, then up her leg. She knew what was coming. Just as she had never sucked Greg, he, too, had never eaten her. He had tried to kiss her around her loins before, but she had always stopped him at the last minute, her puritanical upbringing triumphing over her desire but all that was forgotten now.

Now she reached down to grab Martin's hair and pull him faster to the open, pink lips of her throbbing pussy but he slapped her hands and proceeded at his own speed until a seeming eternity later she could feel the beat of his breath tickling the soft, inner flesh of her thighs.

"Are you ready for this?" he grinned down between her legs. He delighted in teasing her and knew she was near the breaking point. Any more delay and she would turn into a raving maniac. "Yes, yes," she gasped, looking down between her breasts at his leering face. "Please, now suck it suck it good!"

Satisfied that she could take no more teasing for the moment he spread the soft hair-lined lips with his fingers and flicked out his tongue at the swollen bud of her clitoris.

"Ooooohhhh," she moaned, closing her eyes tight and spreading her legs wider.

He flicked with his hardened tongue again, this time letting it rest a little longer on the throbbing center of her pleasure.

Nothing was ever like this, she thought as her mind whirled in ecstasy. Her head thrashed back and forth. She breathed in gasps. It was almost too much. The pleasure bordered on pain. She wanted to climax, but was only at the brink, not able to bring herself over to the final culmination that she so desperately wanted.

He slid his tongue down the moist, hairlined furrow from her clitoris to the opening of her pulsating cunt and thrust it into the warm, wet channel as far as he could. "Oh, oh, ooohhh," she cried. "Harder, harder." He continued licking her, pushing his tongue in to the smooth, slippery walls as far as it could go.

His hands clenched at the cheeks of her ass and a single finger slid its way across the milky white flesh to the rubbery ring of her anus. He probed at the opening softly and she writhed her hips at the unexpected touch. She hadn't anticipated what was about to come.

"Don't stop," she begged as he lifted his head from between her legs. He was hard and wanted to put his tremendous tool to use again. His finger remained for a moment toying with her anus. Then he ordered, "Turn over."

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

"Spread your legs," he commanded harshly as he massaged the soft yielding flesh of her perspiring buttocks. Then his thumbs spread them apart, exposing the tiny elastic ring of her anus. She clenched the muscles that controlled her sphincter tightly. He bent and kissed one cheek and slithered his tongue to the virgin anus and licked at it gingerly for a moment.

Oh my God, she thought. He was going to do it. Please… "Please, no," she whimpered down into the bed spread. "Not that." But he ignored her and pushed against her thighs as she tried to close them. The bed and her legs were wet with her own excited fluids of near orgasm. He smiled noticing the liquid remnants of the extreme pleasure that he was giving her before. Now, now he would do something that no man had ever done to this young wife, not even her husband.

He slipped his finger along the soft crevice between her buttocks until it reached her anal opening. He probed it with no success. She was fighting him with all of her might, clenching her buttocks as tight as she could. "Please, no," she cried again. "It's wrong. It's wron… arrggghhh," she moaned as he pushed his finger into the tiny, rubbery opening up to the first knuckle. How tight, how sweet it is, he thought, as he watched his hand and her squirming bottom as he pushed his finger further and further up into the resisting channel. Then with a final thrust all the way to the hilt until his palm pressed flat into the soft, flaccid cheeks of her ass. "Ooowwweeee," she moaned. "It hurts. Stop, please stop!"

"Quiet, sweetheart," he told her. "You've had nothing yet."

There was a cruel, unyielding relish in his voice as he began to rotate his finger deep around inside to loosen the passage. He could feel the soft, buttery smoothness in her rectum as he skewered her like an animal and his grin widened more at the lewd thought of taking her there. But to Janet, writhing beneath his hand, it felt as though her whole backside was pierced with pain. It seemed like he was going to tear her open. And… a moment later in her confusion she thought his finger had grown larger, but with a piteous moan realized that he had slipped a second finger into her back passage.

She was sobbing openly now, blubbering wetly like a child. The pain tore at her insides like a hot probing poker. Her frustration at being able to do nothing to stop this man built a rage in her, a rage that would know no normal release. But there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Satisfied that the opening was primed for him, Martin removed his fingers. He's through, she thought. He's not going to do it. Oh, thank God, thank God! She breathed a long sigh of relief hoping perhaps she had satisfied his perverted desires. Maybe he would leave her alone for the rest of the night. Though she was still in need of climax, she could do that herself after he had left. The aphrodisiac still had its hold on her, but not enough, she thought, to overcome the hurt and humiliation of his perversion. Her attention centered on the furnace in her vagina in an effort to ignore the pain that still permeated her behind.

Martin repositioned his body. His weight shift on the bed had not been noticed by the girl. She had no idea what he was going to do until suddenly she felt his long, overheated cock sliding up the crevice of her buttocks toward her anus.

"You're going to like this," he said, waking her from her fantasy. "It'll only hurt for a minute."

Her eyes were wide open in terror as she heard his words and felt his great massive prick probing at the tight, puckered opening of her rectum. This was the ultimate submission, the ultimate disgrace. She had been used by this man in the worst ways she could have imagined, and now he would do this to her, push his huge cock deep into her rectum where not even her husband had done it to her before.

He nudged the weapon forward slightly and she tried to clench the muscles tighter but failed. His warming up exercise had left the muscle tired and useless… "Aaaarrrggggghhhhhh, it hurts," she screamed as the rubbery red crown of his cock wormed its way into her forbidden passage. "No, no, no!" she sobbed, begging him to stop.

But it was no use and she knew it. The fiery dagger was forcing its way further and further into her and there would be no respite. The pain raked her insides and she started to pass out, but a last ounce of courage kept her conscious. If she would suffer this, then she must suffer it. But, oh God, she thought, her brain screaming inside her head, it hurts, it hurts so…

The change came suddenly. No longer the pain, no longer the torment. The shock, the newness had turned to a sudden, almost masochistic pleasure. The borderline between pain and pleasure had disappeared. They were one to the young woman whose tear-drenched face was turned into the pillow while her husband's best friend ground his cock in long easy thrusts down into her widely stretched rectum.

The red hot crown of his cock rubbed against her insides, caressing the hitherto untouched flesh. Visions of unseen places and pleasures flashed through her mind. She was rocking on a sea of passion, rolling with each wave as he pushed at her. She responded, lifted her bottom higher, then pushed backward to slap her buttocks hard against his driving pelvis as he rammed into her.

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

Martin could hold back no longer. The scraping of his cock along the sides of her overheated rectum were taking their toll. He had nearly split her open. Her small ringing squeals of pain and pleasure testified to that. But his concern was no longer for forcing her to do what he wanted for he was rapidly approaching the end.

He could feel the doors that held his climax unlock. The pressure behind them was too much. The first spasm of orgasm unleashed itself in his balls as the white hot sperm swarmed through his passage. He jerked back. "Now," he yelled to the ceiling. "Now, I'm cumming, I'm cummmmmiiinnnnnggggg!" And the white hot jets of cum shot from his cock like a blasting rocket.

The hot, fiery liquid spewed into Janet's lasciviously rotating rectum in wet, streaming torrents the sperm easing his last dying thrusts. She felt as if her insides were being filled with hot, thick cream, the same cream that she had swallowed only a few short minutes before and, with each slowing thrust of his cock, it forced his semen deeper and deeper up inside her and pushed her closer to the edge of orgasm.

Unbelieving, she screamed, "Aaarrrggghhhhhh," as she pushed hard back into him again. It felt like a thousand hornets were stinging at her as the muscles of her stomach and lower abdomen contracted, then like a huge serpent, rose up and struck at its unseen victim. "I'm cumming," she howled. "I'm cummmiinnnnnggggg," like an animal freed from its darkened cage and finally able to see the light of day, she was stunned and blinded by the awesome power of the ravaging climax.

Then with one final scream of never ending pleasure, Janet fell forward on the bed exhausted. The orgasm had left her almost senseless. Never before had she experienced such a total involvement in sex. But also, the end of the climax brought the end of her desire. The potion had been no stronger than to last until she had cum one time, and now it was drained from her body like everything else.

The pain returned to her anus where Martin's cock, still half-hard, rested. His penis was sore from the ravaging he had given her tight rear passage and gently he tried to pull it from her. But even though her passage was wet and lubricated with his sperm the pain remained. He would have to pull it out quickly, like removing a splinter. The faster he pulled, the faster the pain would cease.

With one mighty jerk he yanked the soft deflated member from her backside with a sudden wet, sucking noise. "Ooooooooh!" she groaned half consciously, tears flooding from her eyes. The final indignity, she thought hazily. She suffered with silent sobs as Martin rose from the bed and started to leave the room. He would have to dress downstairs in front of the fireplace. Her dazed mind barely heard his words. "You loved it, and you'll want it some more, won't you? In any way I want to give it to you," he gloated triumphantly, knowing what her answer had to be.

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

She fell quickly into an exhausted sleep when he left the room to dress and take another swallow from the small, leather covered flask. He would need some more of the potion.

Darleen was expecting him at home.

CHAPTER FOUR

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

Darleen's new lover jumped quickly to the floor and dressed in the dark with the hurried precision of a man who had known many close calls with faceless husbands.

"Why did you tell me you were divorced?" he asked.

"Never trust a woman," Darleen laughed and turned her back to him as he quickly left the room checking all his belongings as he ran down the stairs to his car parked in the driveway.

Darleen didn't know his name. She hadn't even bothered to ask. Four hours ago she had been sitting in Peter Grant's discotheque, Grant's Tomb, and the young man had sat beside her and bought her a few drinks. In return she gave him some small talk and a wild hour in her bed. She was still excited and not completely satisfied. No matter how hard she tried with so many other men, only Martin satisfied her the way she wanted. The adulterous act of sleeping with men other than her own husband only increased the excitement of making love with him. Her other lovers were only preparation for each night's romp with her husband.

"That was a pretty wild getaway he made. He nearly knocked over the garbage cans," Martin said, framed in the doorway by a small hallway light silhouetting his large, husky frame.

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

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

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

"Well, don't be so damn smug," she said. "And come and tell Mama how you did it."

Martin related the story to his wife, exaggerating slightly. Darleen was hurt as she always was when he told her of his affairs, but excited by his story, imagining herself writhing in the front seat of the car under his powerful thrusts.

Her eyes were glazed when she asked, "What happened afterward? Is she going to tell Greg? Did you use the embezzlement?"

"Don't worry about a thing, sweetheart," he said, crossing the room toward the bed. "I've done this so many times to so many sniveling little wives that it's almost a repeated dialogue. We'll have no trouble from her and soon you shall be able to try Greg on for size. You'll like that, won't you?"

Darleen turned her head into the pillow, not wanting to look at her husband as he sat on the end of the bed. "Martin, please," she pleaded. "You always make it sound so dirty. Why is it that I'm always at fault when I'm with another man and you… you're such a saint. There's never anything wrong with your activities. Why am I always nothing but a whore?"

She faked a sob, but no tears came to her eyes. Whenever the two of them had found other lovers for the night, they repeated the same scene afterward. Neither was serious, but Martin enjoyed tormenting her and calling her names as much as she enjoyed the suffering at his hands. He played the roll of injured husband and she the role of the unfaithful wife.

He would shout at her, call her names and she would respond to the whip of his tongue, each painful word a delightful snap at her backside. She could feel herself moistening between her legs in anticipation. Her nipples, already erect, awaited his touch, his kiss that she knew would come soon.

They had been married fifteen years and for nine of those years they had been taking other lovers and swapping partners with couples they met. Most of the couples would soon fall out of the arrangement, usually moving out of town, or at least across the county. Many of the men would find work elsewhere in the area to avoid contact with Martin. More than a few couples had ruined their married lives by contact with the Kellys, but other people's fate was not the Kelly's concern. They were holding their own, Darleen thought, precariously, but holding their own. Her body shifted on the bed as he changed positions. "Whore," she heard him say quietly. "You're just a whore with a gold band on her finger. You'll never be anything but a whore. You've always been one and nothing you can do will change that."

She loved the words. She was no good, she thought, and deserved all that he was saying. There had been many lovers before Martin, and scores since they had been married. But one thing kept them together. No man could please her as he did. No man was cruel enough, hard enough or could give her what she needed.

Most of her lovers were only preludes to what would come to her at home. A single climax with any of them was not what she needed. They were her tools to excite her before she knew she would be taken by Martin when she finally got home. He would torment her and curse her, but then when he finished with the insults, he would screw her like no man would ever dare.

She shuddered with delight. "Whore," he said again, this time louder. "You'd take any man any time. How can you live with yourself!" His voice was stern, but she could detect the note of pain in it, the pain of a man who had been wronged. They were both good actors for this scene that took place at least three times a week and she always knew what was coming next.

She braced herself. His slap was hard. A red mark rose on her buttocks where he had hit her. Her whole bottom tingled. "Oh, don't," she cried, knowing that he would do it again and excite her even further. He slapped her again and the soft flesh of her smooth, silky buttocks quivered like flaccid jelly.

"You'd even go to bed with that brute, Monroe, if he came to you," he said, his voice feigning a threat. Monroe was Peter Grant's bodyguard. He had been a former professional football player and his six foot five inch frame held two hundred and sixty pounds of solid muscle. He guarded Grant twenty-four hours a day, keeping his employer from any harm. As a nightclub operator in Los Angeles, Grant had made many deadly enemies as well as friends. He and his wife knew the Kelly's intimately.

"No, Martin, never him. He's too big, he'd kill me!"

"Do you mean to say I'm not as big as he is. Have I ever split you, have I ever hurt you like you think he would?"

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

"What about Janet? Do you think she could take him?" he asked his wife. Her torment increased as he slapped her bottom again.

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

"You would like to see her hurt, wouldn't you?" he said. "She would beg him for mercy, just like you beg me — right?"

"Yes, please, oh, yes," she cried as he slapped her again.

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

They stared at each other for a moment. Darleen's tear-filled eyes could see her husband's sadistic smile. They both would enjoy seeing the girl screwed by Monroe. Darleen would get her revenge against this girl she had always had the fear might possibly take her husband away from her.

She always had feared that one of his partners would take him from her, for Darleen knew she lived on the edge of disaster. If Martin found a woman that could please him more than she could, then their life together would be over. There was no hope that she could find a man who could do for her what he did. Janet would suffer for being so beautiful, for luring her husband into bed.

It was always the other girl's fault, never Martin's. His weakness was beautiful women, and Janet qualified as a temptress by being born beautiful. But she would pay and pay dearly, Darleen thought. There was no other way for the girl. Janet asked for whatever was coming to her. Darleen would insure a double reprisal by seducing Greg. It was only fair.

Martin looked at her, knowing what she was thinking. He always knew what he would conjure up in her mind by mentioning the women that he had just finished with. He knew that Darleen needed revenge to reassure her position. She was alive and fiery, and could please him as no one could. The gulp of loaded gin he had taken before leaving Janet's was at its full force. He was ready now to plunge into his wife.

They both laughed and he fell on top of her, nearly crushing her with his weight as he sought her mouth and covered it with his lips, kissing hard, sucking at her tongue as she plunged it wetly between his teeth. Darleen sucked hungrily at his lower lip, tracing the hard tip of her tongue against the insides of his mouth. Their lovemaking was ritual, but never boring. It was always like the first time for her. The excitement of seeing him naked and aroused was enough to bring her almost to a climax. She always had to hold back for this man, bathing in the pleasure he gave her.

His hands caressed her sides as he lifted himself and rearranged them on the bed, placing her head on the pillow. She felt him kissing her ear, nibbling at the soft, tender lobe, then run his tongue lightly down her neck, across her shoulders to her perfectly formed breasts. He toyed momentarily at her erect nipples and she moaned and quivered beneath him as she felt his moist lips nip at the sensitive, quivering bud.

He had brought her to climax before just by sucking at her nipples, but she knew that he wanted more this time. She knew that his screwing of Greg's wife had only made him want her more.

She moaned as he kissed her soft, flat belly. There was no fat on her body and its softness was feminine, relaxed. Her anticipation only heightened her excitement. She knew that his lips were working their way down and would soon be kissing the soft velvety fleece that curled around her yearning vagina.

As he caressed her with his lips he slowly turned his body around so that his penis neared her head. He ran his tongue to the top of her vaginal slit and parted the moist pink lips with his tongue, at the same time lifting one of his legs over her head and placing it on the other side. His huge prick and testicles hung directly above her face. She grasped the organ with one hand and stroked it softly. The sensations that rose from between her legs as he licked her shot all the way to her brain. The soft, moist sweetness that he was kissing was on fire. Each touch of his tongue was like dry ice, its heat was so intense. She murmured softly and brought his hardened cock closer to her lips, studying it with her eyes.

A small drop of clear liquid poised at the tiny slit-like opening under the smooth, blood-filled head. She leaned forward and kissed the tip, brushing away the small drop of lubricating fluid as she did. Then she parted her lips farther, placing a small fraction of the large crown against her lips, teasing gently with her tongue while down below every touch of his tongue in the soft, pink flesh between her legs lit a small new fire in her.

She slid the whole head of his massive organ into her mouth and pulled the foreskin tightly back, teasing the exposed glans with the wetness of her lips. "Oooohhh," he moaned. She knew that she was pleasing him, but she knew always she would. Again she rocked her head slightly, stroking only the head with her mouth. She spread her legs farther to give him greater access to the warm, moist cavern between her thighs.

She could feel his tongue snaking hungrily up into the passageway, hard and searching. The tip played with the flesh at the entrance, rolling in small circles at the tender, hairlined flesh. She sucked more of his rubbery blood-filled cock into her mouth, sure to moisten the flesh with her saliva as she did. The veins throbbed with his pulse. She sucked harder until half of it was in her throat, and already she started to gag. No man could have an organ like this, she thought. In all her experience, no one had ever been as big. She held back the choking and proceeded farther, more slowly, to get as much of it as she possibly could deep into her throat.

The tip rubbed against the roof of her mouth. It almost tickled and would have if she had not been so excited. All she could think of was the cock which lay in her mouth as she sucked, rocking her head back and forth, and the lips and tongue that chewed almost child-like at her cunt below.

She flexed the muscles in her thighs. Her attention to the pleasure of her burning body was complete and unhindered. Every touch, every breath was a new sensation. She needed no instruction to open her lips wider, then firmly re-grasp the great massive cock in her mouth. She moaned, "Mmmmmmm," with the twitching cock still sunk deep between her sucking cheeks.

Martin had expected the humming. He needn't tell her what pleased him as he had to do with the other girl that night. Darleen started humming up and down a scale of deep-throated notes, vibrating the muscles of her throat against the aching head of his prick.

He ate at her voraciously. The sweet smell and taste of her exuding excitement made him only want more of the delicious nectar. She writhed her hips upward, trying to enclose him with the pink lips of her aching cunt. "Please, Martin," she begged. "Please, now."

He responded slowly at first, regretful to take his lips from the hot, fiery meal between her legs. She released his cock from her mouth and watched as he suddenly turned around and fell upon her. He held himself above her for a moment, then, with the head already in position he slid his cock along the short length between her clitoris to its pink, open target where it slipped in, unheeded by any obstacle.

She fit him perfectly. His cock found its place as if it were a hand slipping into a tailored glove. There was no room for error. Their bodies were molded to perfection after years of making love to each other. They knew all the tricks that pleased.

The ecstasy of the moment rose within her as they thrust together, harder and harder in perfect rhythm. Again and again he stroked, hard, long strokes, the massive cock caressing the smooth inner walls of her vagina. The rubbery tip found its mark at her cervix and pummeled it hard as he thrust deeper and deeper into her. The half dark room lit up in strange colors, blinding flashing, mingled with the electrifying shocks that shot through her body to the seeming depths of her very being.

They were both ready. She could feel the rhythmic muscles of her abdomen begin to contract spasmodically. "Oh, oh, ohhhh!" she panted. The sound of her voice told him she was ready. They would come together as they almost always did. The pressure in his balls was too much.

As if he had been struck by lightning, he jerked forward. His swollen balls burst, with the fiery liquid that they had been holding back for this cataclysmic moment. Sperm shot deep into her cunt, filling her with the warmth of desire that would culminate in a few distant seconds. "I'm cumming," he yelled at her between breaths. "No, I'm cummmmiiinnngggggg!" as the last warm, smooth jets of sperm shot far up into her churning body.

She arched her back. Every muscle in her body contracted as she rose up and almost fell to the side in an almost epileptic attack of contraction. Her sphincter clenched and opened like an angry fist. Her buttocks flexed to rock hardness as her orgasm hit. "I–I, me too, my darling, I'm cummmmiinngggggg, nowwwww!" she screamed as the power of her body unleashed at the moment she had been waiting for all night.

There was no time, no space, no motion in the world, only the unbelievable experience of her climax as she was hit again and again by the spasmodic twitching of every muscle in her body. And then, too soon, it was over, his cock still jerking inside her, slowly deflating and losing its strength. They both lay exhausted. As always, they could hardly move. They had used as much effort as any Olympic champion might when sprinting the last of his race. Every muscle had been strained and used to its limit, every emotion had been attained.

He slid off her and kissed her cheek. He was a man, she thought. Her man! No one else could ever have him like this. Her mind vaguely remembered what she must do to set that young bitch, Janet, up for revenge. Darleen hoped she need not worry about the younger woman, but she would be sure, very sure. She closed her eyes and fell asleep gleefully planning her next move for Janet and Greg Richards.

CHAPTER FIVE

The whole house echoed with the resounding crash of the fallen chinaware plate. Janet's nerves were strung tight in her throat. Every movement, every sound was torture to her. Greg had called ten minutes before to tell her that he was at the airport and would be home soon.

During the last five days that Greg had been gone, five days of psychological torture to Janet, she had broken twelve dishes, hurt herself falling down the stairs, and had left the checkbook in a shambles. She hadn't enough self control to subtract a few simple figures to keep their bank balance straight.

Except for grocery shopping and a trip to the post office to pay the monthly bills, she had not left her house. Most of that time had been spent in the bedroom, where she blankly watched television. She didn't want to see or talk to anyone. The phone hadn't jangled, so she felt safe that Martin had not attempted to call. She couldn't bear the thought of facing him or even talking with him.

She jerked her hand back as she was picking up the pieces of the smashed plate. A small trickle of bright red blood formed into a pool on her finger. She washed the blood under the cold water faucet. At least it's still red, she thought, trying to laugh at her grim humor. As she opened a drawer near the sink looking for a Band-Aid, tears began to swell in her eyes.

"But what about my mind," she said aloud to herself. "What about my miserable mind!"

She could hardly see the small cut through the cloud of tears. Oh, what have I done? How am I going to tell Greg? Her mind raced as she fastened the sticky Band-Aid to her finger. How could he have lied to me for so long? And now, now… must I lie to him? Oh, God, I just don't know what to do.

She bent down and swept the last of the broken china into a dustpan. "Honey, I'm home," her husband's voice yelled from the front door. "Where are you? I… oh, hiding in the kitchen, huh," he said, poking his dark curly head through the open door. "Break something?" he asked.

"Just a plate. Would you like a drink?" Her eyes remained on the small pile in the dustpan. She didn't dare look at him for a moment. Her reddened eyes would have given her away. She couldn't let him know that she had been crying. He would ask too many questions.

"Dinner is ready," is all she could muster. "It's only leftovers, but there's plenty for both of us. Why don't you fix yourself a drink…"

"What's this? No kiss for the conquering hero?"

"I'm sorry, Greg. I… I'm all wet and dirty. Please sit down and tell me about your trip," she said, but not really wanting to hear what had transpired in Dallas. As far as she was concerned, his whole job was a lie, their whole life was in danger of becoming a lie. If the company knew what he was doing, she thought, they would be on the street in five minutes and he would be in jail only a moment later. We're living on the brink of disaster and there is no way out, she thought, fighting back the tears.

Greg fixed them both a drink in the living room as she prepared to bring dinner to the already set table. She stood at the door with a platter of cold chicken in hand, braced herself, then swung the door open, a forced smile on her face and walked to the dining room.

"Next May," he said, choosing a drumstick from the platter. "Next May I will be in line for the regional directorship of the entire West Coast. What do you think of that?"

How could you, she thought as she forced herself to smile. "Oh, Greg, that's wonderful. Does that mean we can move somewhere else?"

He answered her question quickly then started talking about all the opportunity that was in store for them. He talked all through dinner about the raise in salary and prestige and all the benefits they would receive in the coming months.

He was still talking as he helped her clear the table and pulled a coin from his pocket once they were in the kitchen. "Heads you wash," he said, "and tails I do."

Janet watched the coin flip into the air and fall tails up. Greg started filling the sink while she stood by, dishtowel in hand, marveling at the mood. He hadn't talked to her like this for months, not even when he had been promoted to his present position only a week before.

"That's the last of them," he said five minutes later. "Fastest dishwasher in the west… What's the matter, honey? You haven't said two words in the last hour."

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

"So, I talk too much," he kidded. "Well, enough of this talking. Let's get down to some serious business," he said, pulling her close to him and kissing her hard on the mouth, completely surprising her. She let him continue, but didn't return the kiss. Besides the fact that her mind was in torment, she wasn't going to let him get off the hook so easily for not making love to her for three months.

"It's been so long," he whispered. "It's been so long, but that's my fault. I have been so tired trying to work sixteen hours a day. But from now on you shall see a big difference in the sex life around here." His apology surprised her and she wanted to believe him. But she wanted something to do with it too. After all, she had put up with his neglect for three months and she should have something to say about it.

Wordlessly he took her hand and led her toward the stairs. Her tormented mind did not want to make love, but her body needed him desperately. She held back as he started to climb the stairs.

There was questioning in his eyes. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, puzzled.

For a moment she said nothing, but only stared at him.

"My God, Janet, I apologized. I want you as much as you want me. Now let's go up to bed, darling."

"That's not enough, Greg," she said, her tone of voice strange and hard. She wanted to know why he had not made love to her during the last ninety days. She wanted him to tell her his secret. "Just an apology won't do. For three months you've been neglecting me, in bed and out. You've been short tempered and almost cruel. You haven't even taken the time to say 'I love you' more than three times. I think I deserve an explanation."

"Honey," he said. "I told you. It's been my work. I've been doing for us so that we could afford all the nice things we have."

Please, she thought desperately as he talked. Tell me the truth. Tell me about the embezzlement. Confide in me. I'm your wife.

"You don't think it's another woman, do you," he asked. "There's never been anyone but you and there never will be. I do love you, and if I had the words I'd tell you how much."

She was silent. You do have the words, she thought. You can tell me. I wouldn't even care about another woman, but I know it's not that. I'd know if anyone had come between us, but it's not another person, it's greed.

"No, I don't think it's another woman," she said. "I trust you. There is something else between us, something trying to destroy us, and you refuse to talk about it. Greg, remember, I'm your wife and I want to help you."

She watched his smile. He's not going to tell me and he'll destroy us if he doesn't. Martin will destroy us. I don't want to tell you about Martin, she thought. You are not strong enough to take it, but then, I'm not strong enough to tell you. Our marriage might not be strong enough to do either of us any good.

"Come on now," she heard him say as she allowed herself to be cradled in Greg's arms. "I love you and that's all that matters. There's nothing wrong." She responded dutifully as he kissed her again. She wanted him to badly, but her conscience still fought her desire. Her thoughts turned to Martin and what had happened five nights ago in the back seat of his sleek convertible. She remembered the pleasure of his kisses, the excitement of his organ as it slipped inside her, hurting her. She could not forget the degradation he had submitted her to, but somehow the thought still excited her. With her eyes closed, the man who held her now was Martin, not her husband.

"Let's go to bed," he said, waking her from the dream. The pressure of his voice on her ear had awakened the napping desires within her. To bed, she thought as her nipples tightened beneath her lightweight housedress. He held her tightly to his side and her legs rubbed sensuously together, exciting her more as they walked up the steps to the darkened bedroom.

Perhaps they could work it out another way, she thought. But… she felt his hand cup her breast as he stepped slightly to the side and let her go through the door before him. This was the room in which Martin had defiled her marital bed. This was the room where she had become an animal and sucked at him greedily. And now she felt her mouth involuntarily salivating and she wanted to suck Greg, but knew that she could not, not unless he tried something first. She dared not to do anything that would reveal that she had been unfaithful. She could not let him know about Martin, his best friend. What was she going to do? The hand at her breasts kneaded the firm but pliant flesh, reminding her that desire still lived within her.

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

Perfect, she thought bitterly, and smiled at him in the half light of the moon that filtered through the drapes. If you only knew what an animal I've become. And there's nothing I can do about it. Oh, Greg, what have I done to you? What have we done to each other?

She put her arm around his waist as they walked toward the bed. Her other hand rubbed across the bulge in his trousers as she reached to unfasten his belt. She must try to make him happy; she must try to be a good lover for him. Somehow they would make out alright.

They stood facing as they worked at each other's clothing. Hurriedly he unfastened her dress and let it fall to the floor, at the same time kicking off his pants that she had unsnapped and unzipped. His shirt came off quickly and he kneeled to slide her panties from her rounded, perfect hips.

The sweet scent of the dampness that was flooding her yearning vagina entered his nostrils. He pulled the panties downward and kissed her belly. He nibbled at her skin above the silky pubic hairs that glistened in their clean blondeness.

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

Three months without sex had caught up with him. He had not been unfaithful to his wife, only unable to face her, shamed that he had become a thief, but with the prospect of even further advancement soon to come for him, he was safe. He would not have to steal again. The more than ninety days away from her had left him filled with desire.

His throbbing penis felt as if it were going to burst, and she had not even touched it yet in its full naked state. He was filled with a rising torrent of passion and could not hold himself back.

There was no method, no plan to his lovemaking. He was guided only by what was closest, and at that moment the soft, wet lips of her vagina were nearer to him than anything. Not thinking that she might repulse him, he lowered his head a few inches and started to nuzzle his nose between her legs into the soft, resilient hair that covered her womanhood.

Instead of being revolted as she had always been before Martin, Janet was further excited by the fact that her husband was going into hitherto forbidden territory. He was going to do it to her just like Martin had! Oh, yes, please, yes. Her heart pounded at a furious rate as she felt his nose slide through the soft pubic hair between her legs and part it gently for an infinitesimal moment.

He pushed her back softly onto the bed and she fell with her legs spread crab-like and resting most of her weight back on her shoulders as she lifted her hips to open herself to his probing mouth.

"Oooohhhhhh," she moaned. "Don't stop, darling. That's sooooo good."

Greg was too engrossed to be surprised at her actions. He thought that his wife too had been without sex all this time and would be ready for anything. He would not be surprised that, in order to please herself, she had probably been masturbating during their abstention. The thought of her finger-fucking herself brought an involuntary twitch to his blood-filled penis that was already jerking in anticipation of what was to come.

As he nuzzled in closer, his tongue licked wetly at the smooth, pink flesh that enclosed the soft, hair-lined opening to her vagina. Then, pulling himself up so that he too was completely on the mattress, he felt her tugging desperately at his thigh, beckoning him to turn his body so that she could also indulge in sucking him.

God, he thought to himself, she's really ready. I've never seen her like this before.

Eagerly he turned so that his cock neared her head. He pulled at her clitoris with pursed lips, torturing the small, throbbing bud until Janet thought she could stand it no longer.

"Oh, my darling," she gasped aloud as she pulled his cock toward her lips and with a groan, sucking the whole head into her mouth at once, swirling her tongue around it voraciously.

"Oooooohhhh, baby," he moaned, feeling her moist, wet lips hungrily caress the length of his hardened cock. Her teeth toyed with the edges of his glans, feeling like razor blades cutting into the reddened flesh. She gulped at him, though her mouth was not as full as it had been with Martin's great cock, this was better, this was the man she loved! The man she really loved!

He pointed his tongue and entered the open, waiting passageway to her insides. Her flesh burned at his touch. The tongue circled amateurishly at the inner flesh, while he sucked at her. "Oh, darling," she gasped. "Oh, Martin, please hurry, Martin…"

Martin! The name lanced through his brain like a pistol shot. Martin! She said Martin! His cock suddenly deflated like a balloon in her mouth. Her lower jaw dropped at the sudden shriveling of his penis, unaware in her wild sexual revery of what she had said.

He raised himself on the bed to look at her. His eyes were red with hurt and anger, sheltered by arched brows that could have belonged to Satan himself.

"You called me Martin," he said almost in a whisper. And suddenly, coming to her senses, she remembered.

She had said Martin!

Her face turned to a mask of terror. It was over. She was exposed and vulnerable. From the look on his face she thought she would never get the chance to explain before, in his wild, jealous rage, he killed her.

She froze as he lifted himself erect on his knees. "You bitch!" he screamed as he slapped her viciously across the face. A red welt immediately rose where his hand had struck.

Tears of pain and betrayal streamed down her still heated cheeks. She had betrayed herself. "No, Greg, I–I didn't. You're wrong," she said, looking at him pleadingly, knowing that he didn't believe her.

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

Afraid to answer, she sobbed while he waited. "Answer me!" he yelled at her, turning so that she could see the blood red eyes, filled with tears of rage. His fists were clenched at his sides. Every muscle in his body was tight, straining at his skin.

"Once," she answered sheepishly, waiting for his reaction. "Only once."

"Bull," he roared. "You expect me to believe that!"

He took a step toward her. Her voice broke as she spoke. "Please, you must believe me. I was drunk. It was the night you left for Dallas. I was drunk when he brought me home. It was in the car. I…"

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

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

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

"No, I, no… yes… in the house."

"Did he fuck you here, on this bed," Greg asked. His tone had quieted. He moved closer to her, standing over her as she cowered on the bed, trying to tell what had happened.

The same word, Janet thought. He said the same word. Greg had never sworn in front of her except for an occasional damn. "Yes, here."

"Say it, you little whore," he said, leaning on his knuckles. "Say that he fucked you here."

"Yes!" she yelled back. "He fucked me here!" She broke and started sobbing worse. The lewd grin on her husband's face was the same one she had seen when Martin had ravaged her on the very same bedspread.

"Did he play with this," he said, putting his fingers on her clitoris. She nodded helplessly as he began to toy with the still swollen bud that ached from go much attention. "Or this," he asked, shoving his finger hard into the dampened opening of her vagina.

"What else did he do?" Greg demanded. "This," and he bent his head and bit at the softness between her legs. "Tell me!"

This wasn't her Greg. She could not believe that the depraved man slobbering down between her thighs was her husband. She started to mumble what had happened to her, feeling his tongue drive deeper into her cunt as she half whispered out the sordid story of her adultery. It played with her, sending her quickly to a new high of tense excitement as she talked.

"And he made me suck him," she groaned, her body writhing beneath his nibbling lips. "His prick was soft when we started and he made me suck it."

Greg's too, was still soft. But as he nibbled at the open mouth of her fiery cunt he turned his body on the bed. She knew exactly what the gesture meant and bent her head, grabbing the soft, flaccid cock and swallowing it deep in her mouth. It grew rapidly as she began to suck at it. The head rose in temperature, heating the entire inside of her mouth.

Greg raised his head from between her legs, "Then what!"

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

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

Quickly she obeyed. From deep within her throat came a sound she had heard only once before, the sound of a woman humming as she sucked greedily at a man's swollen cock. She could feel the massive prick twitching and throbbing in her mouth. It leaked small drops of warm, pungent sperm as she sucked, and she swallowed them greedily. The furnace between her legs was burning her entire body. Greg sucked at her and shot his tongue again and again deep into the open, red lips.

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

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

"What do you mean, not exactly?"

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

"In the ass?" his voice rose increduously. "He fucked you in the ass?"

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

He pulled at her red anus with his finger, contemplating if he should. But he stopped a moment later. Obviously she had been forced to do it that way and he would have no part of that. He had had enough revenge for now. He wanted his cock to drive deep within her and remind her that her body belonged to him and no one else. If they were to talk, they would do it later.

He quickly turned his body, meeting her face with his. Her eyes were blood red with tears but she thought she saw a sign of remorse as he brought his mouth to hers and kissed her, crushing her lips with his.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and ground her pelvis up into his loins. "I won't do that," he said to her. "But I'm going to fuck you like Martin never could! Do you want me to fuck you like that?"

"Yes, Greg, please. Fuck me as hard as you can, harder than ever before. Please fuck me now!" she pleaded, wanting in her agony for him to destroy her.

He repositioned himself and thrust at her with his massive swollen cock, but missed her the first time. Rotating his hips slightly he found the entrance and plunged himself deeply into her. "Oooooohhh," she moaned. "Oooohhh, I love you, I swear I do, darling. Fuck me, please," she begged. Her words and groaning excited him to a new frenzy. For half an hour they had been tormenting each other with sex and with words. And he could hold back no longer. He began to thrust himself up into her hot, contracting pussy as hard as he could.

Each stroke was like the first for her, except that it was more wanted than the last. Each time she locked her legs out wide and drove her hips up to meet him. They were both on fire, as though trying to destroy each other, fighting more than loving. He wanting revenge on her and she wanting to appease his honor, trying to hurt herself as they drove harder and harder against each other.

"Oh, arrggggghhhhh," he groaned as his climax hit him like a thunder bolt. His sperm pulled its way up from the depths of his balls like a hungry bear falling upon a stray piece of meat, the white hot liquid shooting in wild, uncontrolled spurts toward the heat that burned inside the straining belly beneath him. She grunted, contracting the muscles of her cunt tighter and tighter around his plunging cock as he erupted again and spewed relentlessly, spurt after spurt deep into her body.

"Oh, yes!" she screamed. "I'm cummmmmmmiiinnnnggggg, toooooo!!" and arched her back upwards like a tilting wagon about to go over the edge of a cliff into nothingness. His juices filled her and crashed wetly into her own as her muscles contracted time and again, releasing them both from the agonizing torture they had been subjected to for the last thirty minutes.

For a quarter of an hour they lay on the bed. At first they had panted, but the tremors had subsided and they breathed normally. Greg reached to the bedside table for a cigarette. "Why did you do it?" he asked her simply as he lit a smoke for both of them. "Was it just because I had neglected you or have you fallen in love with him?"

"No, he-he forced me," she said.

"How the hell could he have forced you," Greg said, a little angry that she could have allowed something like that to happen… unless…

"I don't want to tell you…" she started to say.

"Now," he said. "Don't waste any time. How did he force you?"

Still sorry that he had not told her about what he had been doing with the company money, she began to relate the story. Greg sat with disbelief in the dark as she continued. "… and so that's how. I couldn't take a chance. I didn't know if he was lying about what you were doing or not."

"He wasn't lying," he said with a defeated tone in his voice. "Everything he said was true." But that was what she didn't want to hear. Why had he become a thief? Why? Now what could they do? He was so bright, the head of his class at the small Midwestern college where they had met. He was always voted the most likely to succeed. What had gone wrong?

"I don't understand how Martin could have found out," he continued. "If he could, then anyone else can if they have the right connections."

"Why, Greg? Why did you do it to begin with?" she said. She was looking for a bridge back to their marriage. If he would tell her perhaps she would begin to understand this man. Perhaps, they still had a chance.

"Mismanagement, I guess," he said. "I could manage my job alright, but for some reason, I couldn't seem to balance our personal budget. There were always too many things we wanted. Too many nights out, too much money spent entertaining prospective contacts, in the higher offices. Maybe I could have done it with a bigger expense account, but there was no other way. I wouldn't be where I am today if I hadn't started taking a little."

"Oh Greg, darling." Janet sobbed gently next to him. "If only I had known."

"It wasn't much at first and it was too easy. There is no problem at all padding loan repayments and adjusting the company books. No one else could have done it without being the manager. In fact, even so, they might not have. I did do a good job, or so I thought. I just don't understand how Martin could have found out."

"He's been with the company a long time," she said. "It probably wasn't hard for him. He's certainly not a stupid man."

"He's a lot smarter than I ever thought," he said.

Janet said nothing more as her husband turned on his side to sleep. What Martin might do was foremost in her mind. She adjusted the covers and settled down for a sleepless night. Tears filled her eyes in silent prayer. She could see no solution and obviously Greg couldn't either. He hadn't even tried to see a way out. The shock must have been too much for him, she thought. He could only wonder how Martin had discovered him. His pride in being caught had been more injured than anything else. He didn't even seem to care about what Martin had done to her.

She closed her eyes and drifted into the half-sleep she would endure for many nights to come.

CHAPTER SIX

Darleen pulled a beige leather glove onto her left hand. It was two thirty, Wednesday afternoon, five days after her husband had seduced Janet Richards. Her mind had been involved in nothing for the last few days, except to originate plans for the younger couple who were under Martin's power. She had only to wait for word from him as to when Greg Richards returned home from his trip and she could initiate her first step. She picked up the car keys and turned towards the door but the brash ringing of the telephone stopped her.

"Hello, baby," she heard Martin's ringing voice at the other end. He rarely called her at home unless it was extremely important. Maybe for once it wouldn't be she almost hoped. Maybe he would just ask her to meet him for a drink after work.

"I'm on my way to do some shopping," she said. "Is anything wrong."

"To the contrary. I thought you might be interested to know that Greg is at the office today. He came home last night."

"Wonderful," she said. "Did he give you any indication that he might know what happened?"

"None that I could see. I don't think that Janet was foolish enough to tell him. We'll have to find a way to do that ourselves. I'm going to ask them to come to the beach with us for the weekend and with the proper preparations there'll be nothing to worry about. Both of them will find that they can enjoy our company much more than they had ever imagined."

"Good," she said, "When do we leave, darling?"

"Sometime Friday. I think I can talk Greg into leaving the office early."

"There's something I want to ask you, Martin," she said, hoping that he would agree to her proposition. "You said the other night that we could take them to Peter's club for a party, and watch Monroe giving it to Janet. You practically promised."

Martin laughed into the telephone. "Sometimes I think you must be some kind of pervert," he stopped for a moment, still not able to control his laughter. "You go right ahead and do whatever you wish. See Peter this afternoon and make some arrangement for next week. We can't take them there until we've broken them in good ourselves. You understand that they must be perfectly primed. I want Greg in my palm as much as I have Janet or he might blow the works."

"Oh, thank you, darling," she cooed over the line. "You're so sweet to me. Sometimes I think you're a little too lenient."

"Well," he said, "Don't worry about that now. I'm leaving the office to see Janet. I want to impress upon her the importance of the weekend trip and then I'll see you about six thirty."

Darleen hardly heard the click in her ear as Martin hung up. She was preoccupied with the new events at hand. Now she would be sure to get her revenge on Janet for attracting her husband, and at the same time, be able to take Greg for a ride. There was no thought of shopping in her mind as she left the house. She was going to see Peter Grant immediately and assure herself that everything would be arranged when they brought the Richards to meet Peter and his wife, Deborah.

Grant's Tomb was almost obscured from any passers by. The single black door was decorated with a small gold plaque, the club's name engraved in black Old English type on its face. No other sign adorned the entrance. It could have been a private apartment, set between the thriving businesses on Sunset Strip.

However, the unadorned entrance was no indication of the club's reputation. Peter Grant had owned a number of night spots in the Los Angeles area. Each time he closed out and moved to a new location he brought his old customers with him, as well as building a larger clientele from newer contacts.

The Tomb's reputation was Peter's. The army of followers that had come with him through the last ten years were impressed not only by his taste for elegance, but by his taste for the bizarre. Most who came for an evening's entertainment got more than they expected and were pleased. Few complained about the high prices. A select minority of the customers, however, found more than simple nightclub entertainment.

They, too, enjoyed the fine dinners and floor-shows. A few of these even stayed to dance for a while. But if one were to look about him in the later hours of the evening, they would see that a few guests were escorted personally by the owner, or his hulking bodyguard, Monroe, through a thick black curtained door and no one ever came out from behind the curtain before two o'clock, the regular closing hour.

An especially observant person might have thought that Peter was running a gaming club through the large, locked door behind it. But it would take a long stretch of the imagination to figure out exactly what kind of gaming was taking place. But there was enough partying going on in the main clubroom to deter anyone from furthering his curiosity by trying to enter through the door. The psychedelic lights and topless dancers kept most of the guests quite happy.

Darleen was among the selected clique who were allowed entrance to the door. She also had her own key to the club. She and her husband had been friends of the Grants for almost three years and in that time they had come to discover many mutual interests. Enough mutual interests, cultivated during weekends at the Kelly's beach house, to make them the closest of friends.

Darleen inserted her gold key into the lock and opened the door. She closed it and stood for a moment, adjusting her eyes to the semi-darkness. The bright afternoon sun had left her temporarily blinded by the darkened interior. After she locked the door she started toward Peter's office and after a moment she could make out the forms who were working on the club's main floor more clearly.

A pair of janitors swept, while two cleaning ladies were scrubbing the rugs. All four were being supervised by an extremely large ape-like man wearing a light blue turtleneck sweater. The six foot five inch man was pointing toward a corner that he wanted the janitors to be sure and not miss before they finished sweeping. As he turned, he saw Darleen.

"Hello, Mrs. Kelly," he said in a deep, gruff voice. "What brings you here at this time of day?"

"Nothing really important, Monroe," she said. The first time Martin introduced her to the Grants, she had seen Monroe in the background. Not once since then, had she not been impressed by the giant that stood before her. At two hundred and fifty pounds he looked every inch the powerful man that he was. But she was afraid to try anything with him. Though physically perfect, he was obviously a brute and looked as though he might almost kill a woman if he became sexually aroused enough.

"Is Peter here? I thought I would stop to chat," she said, looking at the heavy dark brow that protruded much too far over his eyes. A perfect Neanderthal, she thought. His flat nose spread to a dark thick mustache that topped his wide mouth and framed his dark chin. His eyes were hard, but blank.

"Yeah, he's in his office. I don't think there's anyone else there," he said, more intent on flexing his muscles under the long sleeved wool turtleneck than waiting for a reply from Mrs. Kelly. The former semi-pro football player turned his attention back to the two janitors as Darleen walked to the office behind the stage.

Peter Grant heard the light knock at his open door and saw her standing there. "Darleen! What a surprise. It's been weeks since you've come here during the day," the little man said. "Business or pleasure?"

Darleen flashed a genuine smile and received his warm friendly kiss. They were both the same height, which somehow amused her, but nothing else about Peter Grant amused her. He was a strong, intent and an extremely shrewd businessman. There was nothing amusing about his manner or ideas. He and Darleen had shared many evenings in bed together, while his wife Deborah and Martin frolicked somewhere else, or sometimes, even all four in the same bed. Pleasure was his business.

"A little of both," she said. "But where's Deborah. I thought she was usually here during the day."

"Upstairs fixing a few decorative details to one of the party rooms. I'll call her and tell her you're here. Perhaps the three of us…"

"I really don't have time to play," she interrupted. "I still have some shopping to do, but I would like to see her. It's been weeks."

Peter smiled and switched the intercom on to call his wife. Darleen thought a threesome in bed for the rest of the afternoon would be most enjoyable. But there was not enough time this particular afternoon. Though, she thought, if Martin is going to see Janet, he might indulge. Perhaps…

"She'll be down in a minute," he said. "Deborah was as surprised as I that you came by. She asked if Martin were with you. How is he?"

"As well as ever," she said. "He said to give his regards and that he would see you next week. That's what I came by for, reservations."

"Come on, Darleen. You know that you don't need a reservation. What do you have on your evil little mind?"

"Caught in the act," she chuckled. "I never have been able to fool you. I did come with a special request."

"What kind of request?" came a feminine voice from the door and Deborah walked to her friend and kissed her cheek. Deborah towered over both of them. At six feet tall she stood a full half foot over her husband and Darleen. Her long silken white hair accented the smooth rising of her breasts through the low cut minidress that hung a full twelve inches above her knees. Darleen always envied the taller woman's beauty and height, thinking that it would give her a special power over men, but she wasn't jealous. They were good friends.

After a few pleasant exchanges about each other's health and looks, Deborah asked again, "What kind of request were you about to make to my man?"

Darleen accepted a drink from Peter and said, "Do you remember the couple that Martin and I told you about the last time we were here together?"

"Richards, wasn't it," Peter said. "I remember Martin saying that he hoped to get them here after a little special work."

"That's right," she continued. "And now, we are nearly ready. Martin is asking them to come to the beach with us for the weekend. Apparently the time is right. He has already had a taste of the girl. He told me to tell you that, Peter. Says you'll really enjoy her."

"Well, good," he said, "But why the request? Why not just bring them in some night?"

"There is something special about them. The girl is young, and especially naive. She has some kind of idea that she's better than any of the rest of the world, and I want to teach the proud little bitch a lesson she won't forget for awhile."

"Women are vengeful animals," he smiled knowingly. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, we always have a special initiation for new members and I have a really good one for her," she said. "Your animal, Monroe."

Peter whistled softly. "That's dangerous, you know. You wouldn't believe the way that brute's hung, but that alone isn't the crux. He could become violent. There are only certain types of women that he can stand, and I doubt if your sweet little friend would be one of them."

"But if he were under strict orders," she said. "He wouldn't do anything to her. Nothing that would cause anything more than a little pain and humiliation, and she needs that."

"I suppose that might work," he said. "But we'll have to be careful."

"We might enjoy watching," Deborah interjected.

"Precisely what I had in mind," Darleen said, smiling to her friend and seeing the hulking Monroe standing in the open door behind her.

"Come in," Peter said. "We were just talking about you. Mrs. Kelly, here, likes you. She has an idea that should please you a great deal."

The huge bodyguard stood for a moment, digesting the simple sentences he had just heard. He always made a point of listening precisely to what Peter told him. He owed everything to him and felt that no request was too much to do for his employer.

The smaller man had attained sainthood as far as the ex-ballplayer was concerned. Monroe had been seriously hurt in a game six years before and the brain injuries he had incurred had made it impossible for him to ever play again. If Peter Grant had not taken care of him, Monroe would be living on skid row like any other broken down athlete who hadn't planned for the future.

Peter had paid all the bills because his success, as the success of many men, had earned him an assortment of enemies, some of whom would not hesitate to resort to violence to stop him. A bodyguard was a good idea and Grant took advantage of the injured ballplayer, enlisting his services as a temporary bodyguard, but his supposed generosity had won him a worshiper for life.

"Good, Boss, if you say so," Monroe said, looking quizzically at Peter. It was very seldom that he was allowed any real pleasure. He spent most of his waking hours ensuring that his boss was comfortable and safe.

"Of course, I say so, Monroe. Just do as Mrs. Kelly directs."

Monroe nodded and she spoke. "My husband and I are bringing a girl here Wednesday night. We are going to take her upstairs. You know what happens there don't you."

He answered her. There was little that he didn't know as far as the upstairs was concerned. He was an assistant host as well as body guard.

"Good. The girl and her husband have never been initiated into the club and as this is their first time, we thought you might like to take part in the ceremony," she said. Darleen always talked to Monroe as if he were a child because it always gave her a feeling of superiority. He understood everything that she said, and though she didn't realize it would not have been so lenient with her condescending tone of voice if she had not been a friend of Peter's.

She continued adding spice to her words. "You can have the girl in bed. She's young and very, very beautiful, but too innocent. You could teach her so many things."

"And we'll all be watching to make certain you do it right," Peter smiled. Monroe, too, was smiling at the prospect, but he wasn't sure if he should be used like that, to have people watch him. Most of the parties upstairs had involved people watching other people in bed, but he had never been a part of it, except for a few fleeting glances at the bedroom acrobats. Peter's reassuring voice, though, told him it would be all right. Monroe knew that his boss had done the same thing more than once, so he felt, perhaps it would be a privilege.

"Settled, then," Peter said. "As long as Monroe agrees, there can be no harm. I'll walk you to the door, Darleen, Deborah, you go ahead and finish upstairs. We'll have a big crowd tonight, though not as big as the one we should plan for next Wednesday," he grinned. "Monroe will help you get everything arranged."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Janet hesitantly opened the front door to her house and her heart jumped to her throat. Martin was standing outside. He had raised his hand to knock again and she stared at the upraised fist in a sudden terror. "Hey, don't be frightened," he said jokingly. "You scared me as much as I did you."

The girl drew in a deep breath and stepped aside. She knew it would do no good to try to keep him out. Until Greg's embezzlement was covered up she would have to remain his servant. It was the first time she had heard from him in five days and had hoped that he would have decided not to do anything. Perhaps he has changed his mind, was all she could think of since that night, though, she knew it was not true. That would just not be like Martin at all and was just too much to pray for.

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

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

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

"Alright," she said walking dejectedly to the kitchen to heat the coffee. He followed her down the hallway silently and she wished he would speak. What can he want? she thought. The only good that had come from her night with Martin, was that now she and her husband were fighting for something together. But they had no weapons, and did not really know what they were fighting. Martin had not made anything clear. It was up to him to set the battleline. They would be on the defensive, until then, no matter what.

And… Janet knew, though she would not admit it to herself, that she still had horrible mixed emotions about her night with Martin. As she pulled a cup and saucer from the cupboard she could not remove the image of Martin's demands on her body that had given her so much pleasure not many nights before.

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

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

"Haven't you anything to say?" he asked. "You didn't think that I would evaporate, did you? It's one trick I haven't learned yet, but I'm working on it." Martin was pleased with what he said. He considered himself something of a wit, but Janet considered him something much less.

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

"Oh I've been thinking about it," he said. "But I've only been making plans, not destroying them." He looked behind her. "The coffee is ready."

She turned to the counter and unplugged the pot, pouring them both a cup. Don't let him put anything in it, she prayed to herself silently. His nude body was still lurking in her mind, urging her to do the things he had forced her to do before. She could not deny that he had made her feel like Greg never could, but she could not remove the guilt that inked her conscience.

"What kind of plans do you mean," she said hoping to discover what he really wanted. If she had something definite to tell Greg, then maybe they would have something to fight with. Her own curiosity was aroused, also. A man with his imagination could come up with anything. If it was only sex he was thinking of, then she would be in for something more than their first encounter and Janet wondered silently to herself if she had the strength of will to go through all that shame and humiliation again.

"Plans for all of us," he said taking a sip of the hot black drink. He didn't need to put anything into the cups. He wanted to have her again this afternoon, but he knew by her nervous fidgeting that he wouldn't need the potion this time.

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

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

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

"Martin, I can't…"

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

Janet had forgotten that she still wore the light coat. She was going for a drive when he had arrived. She took it off and laid it on the chair.

"You, Greg, Darleen and I," he said, "will be taking a little trip together this weekend."

She was again surprised. "I don't think I could stand it," she said, her eyes opening in shock. "I just couldn't be together with Darleen and Greg, knowing that we had done what we did…"

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

Janet was shocked. She looked toward the open kitchen window and back at him. He always succeeded in catching her off guard. The thought of stripping in the kitchen confused her mind and when Martin told her to close the window and draw the drapes, she obeyed almost mechanically and stood silent. He glared at her and continued to speak, while she started slowly to unbutton her blouse.

"There's nothing to worry about," he said. "The four of us will have a very cozy time in the beachhouse. Darleen has told you about our retreat, hasn't she?" The girl nodded and fumbled with the third button.

His eyes burned into her brain. His smile infuriated her. She wanted to smash those perfect teeth and end her torment, forever, but he continued to talk in his usual smooth way while she moved as though a slave following her master's commands. "The four of us will get to know one another very well before the weekend's over." For a moment she didn't understand what he meant. Then it hit her like a bolt. Greg would never stand for it! It was the first time that she realized that Martin was talking about swapping partners. She had heard of people doing much of the same thing, especially in the counties north of San Francisco. But as far as she could remember, she had never met anyone who had actually done it. Her mind recoiled in horror at what he was suggesting but her hands moved on and against her conscious will unfastened the fourth and fifth buttons of her blouse.

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

He continued talking about the trip. "Darleen has plans for Greg, too." Then he paused, seeing the anguished look on her face. "You don't think it can be done, do you?" he smiled. "Well, it just may surprise you how easy it's going to be."

Janet forgot the cool air for a moment. She could not be part of a conspiracy against her husband. If he were to be unfaithful it would be her fault and she had done enough already. But Martin anticipated her.

"And don't think for one minute little girl, that you are going to tell him in advance. If you warn him, it would take the fun out of it. Neither of you can get out of this now and you know it. Greg would be in jail in one hour if I were to ever spill what I know. So just relax and let's enjoy it." His grin broadened as he saw the defeated look cross over the young wife's face as though the end of the world were coming.

Thwarted, Janet dropped her hands to her sides. What could she do? The cocky smiling man held all the trump cards and she would just have to play along. Obviously, nothing else would work.

"I told you to take off your blouse," he said. She did as he said, slowly, slightly embarrassed, but, in spite of her helplessness, strangely aroused by the thought of him looking at her naked breasts in broad daylight. He decided to change his original plan, and only tease her this afternoon. It would make her more pliable when they got together at the beach on Friday.

He stared at the round firmness of her naked breasts. The cool air had extended her nipples, causing them to become erect. Goose flesh covered her body. She mechanically dropped the blouse to the freshly washed floor. The buttons clicked on the tile. Her hands hung limply at her sides awaiting the next command. Martin watched her, amused with his game. "Shoes," he said, and she bent to remove them.

The weight of her breasts pressed toward the floor as she stood on one foot, then the other. She spent a moment longer than necessary arranging her shoes neatly on the floor. The weight of her full breasts hanging loosely pulled at the muscles in her chest, the muscles that kept her firm and young looking. She shivered inwardly at the weird sensation of stripping her clothes off in front of a man who wasn't even her husband.

Martin watched the fine white breasts as they swayed gently beneath her moving body. He had an idea how it made her feel but said nothing as she arranged her shoes. If she wanted to work herself up, he would let her.

The tile was cold to the bottom of her warm feet. She could feel her temperature rising.

"Well, what are you stalling for?" he asked, enjoying his power to command her to the utmost.

She straightened up at his words and started to walk meekly toward him.

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

Her face flushed. She was being made into a common stripper, giving him a thrill, she thought. Though the blind was drawn, the room was still bright with the harsh light that kitchens always seem to emanate. Slowly she put both hands behind her back to find the zipper. Her shoulders were back as she started hesitantly to unzip the skirt. She had to lean forward slightly to unfasten the button and her breasts swayed sensuously with the motion of her body. Her nipples were straight and erect. A red flush of sexual excitement spread involuntarily across her chest.

The button came undone easily and she started to slide the skirt over her hips. It came off easily and fell to the floor with the blouse and shoes. She stood naked except for the silk panties. Martin did not have to tell her to take them off. She did it easily, turning her back to him, exposing the lush full moons of her soft, white buttocks, which gleamed marble-like in the shaded light.

Martin had an erection and his blood filled penis pressed hard against his pants as she dropped the flimsy, nylon panties onto the pile. "Show me that you are enjoying yourself," he said and for a moment she thought to walk toward him, but knew that he did not want that. He wanted to further humiliate her and she knew there was nothing at all she could do about it. And now… standing completely naked and exposed in front of him in her own kitchen she was not certain there was anything she wanted to do about it. Not certain the small subtle flames licking at her body would allow her to do anything but bend to his will. The dampness now growing between her legs urged her to go to him. She could see that his left hand was below the table top and she knew that he was softly massaging his swollen penis. She wanted to do it for him but knew also that he wanted something else, something more bizarre and tantalizing from her before he took her.

She had read enough novels to guess her own next move. She put her hands to her breasts and cupped the firm succulent flesh. Her eyes were glued to his. She thought he wanted her to excite him by touching herself until he was ready to take her. Her own touch was becoming too much. The dampness between her legs had increased. The soft pink lips of her vagina were filling with desire and need.

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

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

Oh God, the same shame again!

She had masturbated guiltily a few times when Greg had been neglecting her for so long, but to do it in front of another person, in front of a man… in the kitchen! Her mind rebelled at the obscene thought, but her hand was no longer under her control and slid compulsively from her breasts down across her belly to her thighs as she slid her buttocks up on the edge of the table and lifted her knees up to her breasts. The whole of her loins were exposed to his seeking eyes. She was afraid. More afraid than when he had taken her from behind. She could not pinpoint her fear but it was there, cruel and unyielding. She only wanted natural sex, or at least as close as she might come to it. But to masturbate in front of this man was too much.

But, while her mind rebelled in futile protest, her fingers plotted a course of their own through the soft blond silken hairs above her vaginal opening. Martin watched her part the thin, pubic hair between her legs and with a small mewling groan slip a finger down the wet, pink slit and play with the swollen clitoris that throbbed there with a seeming life of its own. He had excited himself, playing with his massive throbbing cock, but he forced himself to stop. He would save it for tonight at home, and save her for the weekend. He wanted her worked up to the boiling point before he threw it to her before the unbelieving eyes of her own husband in a few short days.

The girl sat back on the table, unaware now of the man in her kitchen. Her fingers slid from her clitoris to the smooth, wet opening of her cunt that throbbed and contracted down between her open legs as though it were a hungry animal craving to be fed.

Her head rolled salaciously back and forth on her shoulders, her long blonde hair swinging around her neck and breasts as though she were being lashed by an invisible tormentor standing over her. While down between her widely spread thighs, her probing fingers stroked rapaciously at the soft pink flesh and then suddenly with a wet, slippery noise pushed themselves deep up inside the hair-lined lips of her cunt.

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

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

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

But, oh God, NO!

He was gone!

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

He was gone.

She groaned in helpless agony and let her hand slip wetly from between her legs. There was no use in going on. The thought of having Martin take her had made doing it to herself useless. She would never be able to satisfy herself now, and could only pray that perhaps Greg would throw her to the floor when he came home and quench the fire raging in her belly. There was no other way, no other way!

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

God! Oh, God, what was going to become of her! She knew that this afternoon she had had no choice but follow Martin's commands and strip her clothes from her body as he told her, but to suddenly begin enjoying it and then begging for it was another thing. Perhaps she was just the whore that Greg had shouted she was when he found out about her night with Martin. Perhaps that was all she was, just a hot, fucking little whore who was ready to drop her pants at any prick that came along. She dropped to the floor crying in great gasping sobs and trying to blot the horrible thoughts she was thinking from her mind but it was a long hour later that she managed to lift herself to her feet and stagger down the hallway to the bathroom to prepare herself for Greg's homecoming. The dark shadow of what was to come the following weekend hung heavy over her like a black cloak of doom, but she knew there was nothing that could be done to stop it… nothing at all.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Janet was preparing the salad when she heard Martin's car, with her husband and Martin inside, pull into the driveway. She put the bowl on the counter and walked toward the door to be ready to meet him when he entered; she hoped Martin wouldn't insist on coming in the house. She didn't want to see him. Though she knew she would have to face him on Friday, perhaps she would not have to go through looking at him just now after the humiliation he had subjected her to earlier in the afternoon.

Just as she came to the swinging door between the kitchen and living room, she saw a note scribbled on the blackboard she used as a reminder with her shopping; she didn't have to guess that the handwriting belonged to Martin. The note was short and not so sweet. There was a single sentence, instructing her to make sure Greg would accept the weekend invitation and she knew she had no choice. In a moment her husband would be in the house and she would have to conspire against him.

Janet quickly erased the board and decided to wait for him in the kitchen, pretending to be busy preparing beef stroganoff, though all she had left to finish was putting a fire under the meal. Unaware, she thought, I must be unaware that Martin has invited us to the beach. Martin would be surprised at Greg's acting if he realized that Greg knew about their affair the other night. It would make him angry and there was no telling what he might do.

She tried to turn her mind to more pleasant thoughts as her husband entered the kitchen alone; she found herself breathing a small sigh of relief.

"Martin's got something up his sleeve," he said, without even greeting her, and she could see that he was extremely angry. It must have been horrible for Greg, she thought, riding all the way home with Martin, knowing the man had totally debauched his wife. Greg was not a violent man, but a situation like that could have made most men commit murder.

"He's invited us to the beach for the weekend," he continued. She said nothing for a minute, waiting to hear his reaction. "What the hell does he think he's doing?" he almost yelled, slamming his fist on the counter. She watched him look around the kitchen uselessly looking for something else to hit to relieve the pressure building in his brain.

"I don't know, darling," she said, walking toward him. "Let's have a drink. It'll settle you down for a while and we can try to determine what he wants. Who knows, maybe he has even changed his mind and isn't going to do anything," she said, wondering how Greg would feel if he knew that Darleen was going to make a play for him.

She followed him into the living room and stood beside him as he fixed them a highball. He talked about his dislike for Martin and she listened dutifully, knowing that there was no way on earth for them to get out of what was going to follow in a day and a half. They had to go through with it and that was all there was to it.

Though Greg's job seemed no longer important to him, Janet didn't want to wait for a man who might spend ten years in prison, therefore, she wanted to please Martin at all costs. But Greg's focus was upon their marriage and their lives together, lives that were in jeopardy. If Martin could keep them under his power they would be no longer free. If he had to live under the yoke of fear, allowing his wife to sleep with another man, then his life was not worth living. He had not considered that Darleen was also a conspirator in the plot.

"Perhaps we should go with them to find out what he wants," she suggested when she found Greg had not completely agreed to go. He had told Martin that he would see if Janet had made any other plans for the weekend, but Martin was not worried, not after his afternoon visit to her kitchen.

"There is nothing we can do without knowing what he really has planned," she said. "I don't think it can do any harm. At least, not if the two of us are there." She almost believed her own words as she spoke. Martin was obviously a professional at blackmailing women into his bed, and apparently, to Janet, so was Darleen. She was at his mercy and could not tell her husband that she too had joined the conspirators.

His high Midwestern morals had not kept him from stealing, but they had kept him from other women. Sex was sacred to Greg. Though they had been married for several years now, he failed to recognize that it was not just something they happened to share with each other. The idea had never occurred to him that other women could give him much more pleasure than his wife. Nor had it occurred to him that he could give her much more pleasure than he did. As far as he knew, there was only one way to do it properly, and that was the way he always did.

Janet, however, had discovered new innovations through Martin, making her more susceptible to the idea that they could go to the beach house. She did not believe that Greg would be seduced by Darleen. But the exhilarating thought of being made love to by Martin, even though she knew it was wrong, drew her to the subconscious conclusion that they must go. Consciously she could not accept what she had done. But subconsciously she needed to be used like Martin used her, demeaning her in her own eyes, using her as a means to an end, not as a feeling, sensitive human being.

"I don't know if it'll be safe for you, honey. I know they'll try something," Greg said hesitantly.

"We have to take the chance though, darling," she said. "If we don't do at least that much, he could decide that he should turn you in. No one would believe that he had done to me what he had, and after all, it isn't a crime. He didn't rape me. And even if I testified that he did, it wouldn't hold up in court. If he disclosed to the police and the company that you've been embezzling, no one would believe anything I said. So we just must go."

"You're right," he said, looking at the reddening eyes of his wife. He could not tell that she was acting, that her tears were not real. She often cried when a crisis came. There was no reason to think that she was faking. "I'll call Martin now," Greg finally said after pondering for a moment longer. "He said we would leave around noon on Friday, and I'm sure he'll be very happy to hear we're going."

Janet didn't want to talk as she reclined back in the back seat of the white convertible. It was twelve thirty on Friday afternoon and they had been driving for fifteen minutes. She leaned her head back and worriedly watched the speedometer creep past ninety as they headed south on the Santa Ana Freeway.

Greg and Martin chatted in the front seat, while Darleen sat on her left, telling her about the nightclub, Grant's Tomb. Janet barely heard her. The last time she had been in a nightclub she had ended the night in bed with another man. I could never talk to Darleen if I knew she had been to bed with my husband, she thought. How can she do it so casually, as though nothing had happened.

Janet was still seeing the flashing strobe lights that had beat on her brain a little over a week before and her thoughts roamed aimlessly. She watched her husband nod now and then while Martin talked about the beach and the tan they could get with only one weekend. She thought they would probably not see much sun if the Kellys had their way.

"… sailboat is in perfect condition," Martin said. "We should have good weather all weekend. Have you ever sailed," he asked Greg over the boom-thump of a folk rock song on the radio. He shook his head.

"Not much sailing water in the Midwest," he said.

"Then you'll have to learn. You happen to be lucky enough to have one of the best teachers on the coast," he bragged. "What about you, Janet," he asked, turning his head to look at her.

"Fine," she said, wishing he would keep his eyes straight ahead. The traffic was too heavy to be looking around and not paying attention to the road. Finally, to take her mind from Martin's driving, she turned to Darleen and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.

They all continued to talk. Greg was more relaxed with Martin now, and Janet forced herself to speak with Darleen in order to keep Martin from turning around again. She would rather spend the day in bed with him than die with him.

She nervously watched the water as they came out onto route one. The dunes were high and there was no danger of going over a cliff, at least not yet. Martin had slowed to seventy miles an hour, which was still too fast for the road. The sand glared at her through her sunglasses. She must buy some of those brown-lensed ones, she thought. They keep out the glare.

"Here we are," Darleen announced. "It's the brown house out there," pointing toward a large beachhouse on stilts, separated from the other summer homes by fifty yards of sand. "We bought all the land around the place, keeping our neighbors at more than arm's length. It gives us a lot of privacy, even though there are so many other people living nearby. Most of them are old and nearly ready to retire. We don't have much in common with them."

Martin slowed the car to turn into the drive. He cursed to several bearded surfers standing near the entranceway, their thumbs out. "I don't know how the hell they expect to get a ride carrying those boards with them," he said.

The two boys waved the "V" sign at them and smiled. They had no need for white convertibles, except for transportation's sake. No one in the car returned the greeting. Martin and Darleen didn't care and the other couple were too worried about their own plight.

"Come on," Martin said after he stopped the car in the driveway. "I'll show you two the boat."

"I had better unload the car," Greg replied.

"Okay. Darleen, you help him and I'll show Janet our little Kon Tiki," he said, taking her hand forcefully and leading her down the stone path to the boathouse sixty feet from the cabin.

Janet held back as much as she dared. She was afraid to go anywhere alone with Martin, under the circumstances and kept looking back at her husband, hoping he would come with them. But he only watched her for a moment, then opened the trunk and began lifting out suitcases and groceries. Oh, well, Martin wouldn't dare do anything so soon, she thought. Not with her husband so close by.

She stood behind him as he unlocked the padlock that fastened the boathouse door. Another key opened the door on the lock, and he opened it, stepping aside for her to enter first.

For a moment she forgot her fears. A beautiful, thirty-foot sailboat lay in shallow water before her. The mast stood tall in the boathouse, its top thrust through a hole in the roof. She could see the canvas that would be folded back in order to let the tall spire slide out of its prison whenever it was ready to sail.

Martin watched her as she scanned the sleek lines of the sloop. "It sleeps four comfortably," he said. "We might even give it a try while we're here. Darleen and I readied her for sailing last weekend. It's an experience you won't forget as long as you live."

Janet didn't hear anything he said. She was picturing herself and Greg sailing away from Los Angeles, away from the entire civilized world on the boat, escaping from every problem that plagued them, particularly his embezzlement and her obscene affair with Martin that was threatening to destroy her.

Putting his arm around her waist, he pulled her to him for a second, "Come on, I'll show you the inside. You'll like the cabin. Darleen decorated it."

She held his hand as she walked down the small gangway to the shining mahogany deck. "Eighty thousand dollars," she heard him say. "My wife's father was a reasonably wealthy man. He left her enough money to keep me from working the rest of my life, but I enjoy being active. It keeps me young."

Her hand rubbed the smooth finish on the dark rail and cupped the shiny brass cover of one of the running lights. The boat seemed alive to her, ready to take off and fly across the mysterious sea. It rocked slightly as they walked across the deck and she was scared for a moment. It was nearly dark in the boathouse, the only light coming from a single window and a hole in the roof, which beamed a shaft of light dimly onto the deck.

She marveled at the simplicity of the lines that rose to the mast. Each had a job to do. She could easily imagine the sails set, full and billowing with the wind pushing them to their maximum as they pulled the boat through the ocean. She could feel the salt spray splashing at her sunburned skin as she tugged at the helm, trying to keep on course.

Then her dream broke as Martin lifted the cover that secured the hatch and opened the entrance to the ladderway. She didn't want to go below with him, but her love at first sight for the boat led her on. She wanted to see more and she strangely felt almost at home here in its grand simplicity.

The ladderwell was dark and the light from outside cast eerie shadows on the bulkhead as she descended. She was careful not to lose her footing and be embarrassed before the eyes of the beautiful boat, which she felt was her friend. Carefully she reached the bottom and stood still in the darkness.

"Wait here," Martin said and walked across the cabin, his head slightly bent, to turn on the light. "The other switch is temporarily out. It could get hairy at night trying to find this switch. A heavy sea could wreck an inexperienced sailor just trying to walk across the cabin in the dark."

He continued talking, showing her the particulars of the living accommodations, but she did not hear him. Her eyes searched every corner of the cabin, devouring all of it. Though Darleen had designed the insides, it was entirely a masculine ship. Janet thought that this boat could never be called a she, it was all man; all strong, powerful man.

The woodwork seemed heavy in its darkness. The brass shined as only a man could have polished it. The boat had been given loving care by the Kellys and she found herself wondering how two people who loved a thing so much could be so cruel to other people.

A moment later, the answer became obvious to her.

She tried to stop thinking, when she watched Martin draw one of the bunks from the wall. It unfolded into a five by six foot double bed, complete with sheets and pillows. Oh, no, she thought, her mind recoiling as she watched him work. Not here, not now, with Greg and Darleen outside. He wouldn't dare!

Martin said nothing and made no move towards her as he completed his task and stepped forward to the bow and closed the door. Janet still did not move. She just could not let him take her like this as though she were just someone he had picked up moments before off the streets. She had to put him off some way until the others came. Her heart was beating like a drum and she breathed a short sigh of relief as he disappeared momentarily into the small closet-like toilet. It would give her time to collect her suddenly disorganized thoughts.

But then, after what seemed only an instant in time, she heard the toilet flush and saw the door open, Martin stood before her naked and then she knew there would be no escape. He was demanding her body now even thought he must know Greg would come looking for them in a few minutes.

Why? she thought desperately. Why does he want to do this. "Martin," she suddenly pleaded with him. "We can't. Greg and Darleen will be down here soon. What if they caught us?"

"Don't worry about him. Darleen will see to it that he doesn't bother us." He grinned obscenely at her from his nakedness in the dim light, his eyes cruel and unyielding.

Janet did not believe him, but felt powerless. She looked at his naked body and his organ hanging limply down from loins. She could see that it was starting to fill with blood, inflating itself with desire. She wanted to run but knew better. He would only make things worse for both she and Greg later on if she did not bow to his demands now.

Turning, she started slowly up the ladderway. Martin watched her, not moving, not saying a word. He knew what would happen. She reached the top, and stood still for a moment, thinking of the swelling penis that awaited her below. It wasn't right, but he had the upper hand she tried to rationalize, but knew even as she fought within herself, that she was lying to herself. She wanted him and nothing could change that. She took another step up and heard him laugh softly behind her as she mechanically pulled the cover over the hatch.

Slowly she turned around after securing the hatch with a hook, to keep intruders out. She descended the ladder back to the cabin where Martin still stood where she had left him. He was smiling arrogantly, his body silhouetted by the single light behind him. She wished he would turn it off but knew that it would be left on. It was one of his prices that he watch her succumbing to him, that he actually see her repulsion turning slowly to lust as he played upon her naked body. With instructions she began to unbutton her blouse. He stared at her fingers awaiting the moment when her breasts would fall free from their constricting cover and breath hungrily at the fresh salt air.

She hung the blouse on a hook by her head and removed her shorts and silk panties quickly at the same time. Then, hanging them beside her blouse, she stood silently for his inspection, knowing that he wanted to see her before he took her.

There would be no Greg to save her now and no way out. This was the man who had taken her in the most horrible, unthinkable ways and made her like it. He had humiliated her beyond all recall by simply telling her what to do, and making her blindly follow his instructions without protest. She had even stood before him in her own kitchen, nude and masturbated herself into shame simply because he had commanded her to do it. Now they were again alone, this time deep in the belly of this beautiful boat, about to do it again while her husband kept company with his wife not over a hundred feet away. What had happened to her? She had no more pride left as a human being and followed his commands like an obedient animal.

She felt like a helpless slave as she stood feeling the salt air flow cool around her naked thighs. There was no excitement in her. She was a machine until she turned her gaze to Martin and her eyes dropped involuntarily to his loins.

His penis had filled with desire. He had been standing in the same spot, his hands on his hips, watching her as she stood nude and vulnerable before him. His imagination had taken him already to the bed, thinking of the ways he would take her there. Now he was hard. His massive prick jutted out from his body like a harpoon poised to strike at a fleeing whale.

Her eyes were glued to the glistening head that rose and fell with his pulse as he stood watching her. Her next task was simple. She would walk to him, but… not like she was. She could not let him take her cold. It was bad enough to be a slave, but if she were completely cold, she would be no better than a common prostitute. If he were to take her, he would have to make her feel it, he would have to make her want it. It was her condition, the one rule she could make.

Martin did not have to be told to excite her. He wanted her as hot as he could possibly get her. He wanted her to submit to him and beg him to fuck her. It would increase the satisfaction no end.

As he walked toward her, she took a few steps in his direction. Without trying she could feel the tips of her nipples rise in erection, imitating the hard flesh that jutted from his body. A red flush spread across her cheeks and chest. Her breasts bounced slightly with each step and the quiet rolls of the yacht. She stopped, her feet spread wide, her hands placed defiantly on her hips.

So she wants to be a leader, he thought. She thinks that she can make me do as she wishes. Guess again young lady. He reached out and pinched her right-nipple with his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped at the sudden unexpected pain.

He laughed at her surprised look. She had not expected anything so sudden, or quite so painful. Greg had never taken the liberty to pinch her breasts. He had always caressed them gently with his hands, but nothing further. She dropped her hands to her sides as he let go of the sore nipple.

Her head fell back for a moment, then rolled forward just in time to see the top of Martin's head as he bent and wetly touched his lips to her nipple. No one had ever paid so tender attention to her breasts. The memory of the pain of a moment before was gone as he caressed the involuntarily hardening tip with his tongue.

He played for a moment with it, then suddenly sucked the whole end of her breasts between his teeth, forcing the firm flesh to give as he took as much as he could into his mouth, sucking at it like a nursing baby.

Janet had heard of women climaxing from breast stimulation, but had never been stimulated by it herself. Now she experienced something new. She was not surprised, though. Martin seemed to know every secret thing about her body, though he had only touched her twice before. Every pore, every nerve was at his command. She could feel her clitoris hardening to its own erection between her legs, lubricated by the damp fluids that were slowly beginning to seep from her vagina…

It was so sweet, she thought, her head lolling back and forth on her shoulders. Her eyes were closed as she imitated the rocking of the boat as it rolled gently in the swells coming from the sea. She anticipated the mooring of the rock hard penis into the soft flesh of her vagina and the lewd thought started another flood of cuntal liquids within her. The warm, tantalizing fluid found its way from the thin hair-lined opening between her closed thighs and trickled slowly onto the white flesh of her upper legs. She was trembling with excitement.

Her repulsions as Martin, his mouth still locked tightly to her breasts, knew were vanishing with each passing moment. The luxury and strangeness of the boat, her nakedness, and even the fact that her own husband might suddenly come bursting in and find her being fucked half to death by another man, thrilled and frightened her as she had never been frightened before. She felt a thrilling desire to be completely debauched and ravished, her fleeting guilt soaring away in the wind of passion that was suddenly enveloping the whole of her now writhing body.

She made no protest as Martin, his tongue swirling around her breast, slowly and deliberately pushed her back toward the sagging mattress of the bunk. She was ready, roared through her mind. God, was she ready and groaned in protest when she felt his lips leave her momentarily as the backs of her knees touched the edge of the bunk and she fell back limply on the waiting mattress. Her eyes opened and she could see him standing above her, his wide-eyed gaze locked to the juncture of her open thighs.

"Oh God, Martin, come to me! Please come to me," she murmured between her tightly clenched teeth, her arms outstretched to receive him.

And then he did, the flesh of his body covering her like a warm protective blanket, his chest panting down and squashing her hard, firm breasts down into her chest until she could hardly breath. She quivered beneath him in a strange, glowing, sensual delight as he whispered down into her ear.

"God, I'm going to fuck you this time like I never have before."

"Oh God, Martin. Please do. Fuck me good this time, fuck me good," she whimpered. "Do it quick before Greg comes."

He grunted and their mouths locked wetly together and she squirmed and writhed her body hotly up against his nakedness. Her hand slid hungrily down between their tightly locked bodies and forced its way between them to grasp the throbbing head of his hardened cock.

"Ooooh, baby, you are learning, you are learning," he groaned into her open mouth as she stroked gently at his loins, curling her slim fingers lasciviously down around the softness of his testicles. He moaned spasmodically and his cock jerked up of its own volition away from her grasping fingers.

She murmured and a gasp of protest died as his head dropped and his mouth moved voraciously down over her neck and breasts, bringing mixed gasps of pain and pleasure as he nipped at them teasingly with the sharpness of his teeth. And then his probing tongue moved on away and he slid down her body. His lips cut a searing trail beneath her breasts and down to the slight indentation of her navel, then swirled there momentarily, driving her almost insane as he began a further descent.

"Do you want me to lick you there," he suddenly lifted his lips from the smooth whiteness of her belly and teased.

"Oooooooh, yes, Martin, do it, for God's sakes do it!" she whimpered down at his grinning face outlined cherub-like between her uplifted thighs.

"Do what," he teased further, blowing the heat of his breath tantalizing down between her open legs.

"Suck me," she hissed her words rolling out unashamedly. "Oh God, stick your tongue in my cunt and fill me with it! Fill me with it!"

And suddenly she had no longer to wait. He nuzzled her thighs far apart with his shoulders and pressing his thumbs outward on the soft, hair-lined lips of her cunt, slowly opened the smooth pink slit until the tight, throbbing mouth was completely exposed to his delighted gaze. She curled her legs around his neck and pressed the soft inner flesh of her thighs tightly against his ears. Her loins were a hot, raging whirlpool and her mouth opened, a long low banshee scream rolling from between her lips. Like a moving snake, his tongue had slithered wetly into her cunt, sending a sharp, quivering spasm racing up her spine.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh," she chanted as he swirled it lasciviously around and around in the warm, liquid depths, flicking teasingly at the tight contracting walls of her burning pussy.

"Oh, oh, oh, ooooohhh," she murmured on and on, her head flailing helpless from side to side on the swaying bunk.

He licked and sucked as though he were trying to devour the whole of her open crotch, using lips and teeth and his wildly thrusting tongue as though he were a starving animal. Wet, moist sucking noises echoed through the small interior of the cabin increasing Janet's excitement almost to the bursting point. She wanted him inside her, wanted to feel that huge, throbbing prick of his reaming her cunt inside out until there was nothing left of either of them.

She tangled her hands desperately in his bobbing hair, her eyes tightly closed in the ecstasy of the moment.

"Get between my legs, Martin," she breathed, her voice coming in small mewling gasps, "Get up on top of me and put your cock in my cunt. I want you to fuck me… fuck me…"

The obscenity and wild abandon of her own words was making her blood run faster, causing her head to spin slightly. The effect adding to the sudden illusion that the whole of her body was nothing more than a great gaping cunt, a cunt that had to he fucked and fucked until it slowly disappeared into nothingness. Nothing else mattered in the world but this feeling of lewd, intense longing. Nothing else at all, not her husband, not his wife, not the money. Only this wonderful throbbing, swirling ball of white, hot heat burning in her belly as his tongue sliced mercilessly down there between her jerking thighs.

Martin crawled up her body, forcing her thighs even farther apart. She was wet and wide open to the hardened cock protruding now like a tree out from the forest of his pubic hair. Her cunt was like a hot, scorching furnace waiting for the life-giving fuel to be shoveled to it.

And then it came.

With one long hard thrust of his hips he shattered into her. Long, strong, and superbly smooth. His huge, pulsating cock, battered into her like the log it resembled, pushing the smooth fleshy walls of her steaming cunt in rippling waves before its surging power.

"Aaaaaaaaggghhh! Martin! Oooooooooh, Martin. You're a God! You're a God," she whimpered and moaned out her pleasure beneath him as she suddenly felt it grind to a halt at the farthest tip of her cervix. His balls slapped heavily down against her upturned anus causing her to jerk again at the unexpected sensation and bringing one long, heart-rending scream of ecstasy from her open mouth. And then, without stopping its movement, it began to move around deep inside her belly, in and out, never pausing, always digging, seeming to go farther and farther all the time as though it were a great crawling monster squirming around inside her.

She grunted and kicked her legs out wide on either side of his grinding hips, wriggling her buttocks lasciviously down and around on the slippery coverlet of the squeaking bunk. She was one great pool of wetness between her thighs and the walls of her cunt clasped hungrily at the thrusting cock pummeling into her, the fire she felt transmitting itself to her mind and blotting out all thought of anything but the magnificent fucking she was getting at the hands of this man whom she otherwise detested. She was vaguely aware of his hands running over her, cupping her soft, squirming buttocks, then probing and tearing at her upturned rectum as the heat of his body swarmed over her, twisting and grinding deeper and deeper into her lust inflamed pussy.

Somewhere in the distance, she was aware of footsteps on the deck, but she paid no attention and neither did he. Nothing mattered but this blinding, searing heat which locked them together as though their cunt and cock connected bodies were one great struggling monster fighting to free itself from some invisible binding that lashed it to the wildly squeaking bunk. His cock was filling her, filling her as though she were nothing more than a soft, wet strip of living flesh surrounding it, captured and imprisoned by its brute force from which there was no escape.

Her mouth hung open in wild, abandoned passion and she groaned out pleading obscenities at him, urging him on to heap greater and greater indignities on her naked, churning body.

"Fuck me, you bastard! Fuck me harder, deeper! Split my cunt, split it with that great driving cock of yours! Oh God, yes, fuck it, fuck it good! Oh, oh, oh…"

She grunted and groaned beneath him, the low, hot-pitched wails of his breath permeating her ears as though they were the warning blast of a fast moving freight. His cock was a huge, merciless animal, racing madly around inside her, making her toes curl and uncurl out in the air with each cruel, pile-driving thrust.

It was not real, nothing was real!

It was one great all-consuming nightmare that blotted out all but the heavenly bliss of this magnificent fucking of her desperately straining body. She gasped and screamed, her words becoming an endless stream of incoherent murmurs, on and on endlessly… endlessly…

Janet's thoughts were no longer on her husband but he was thinking of her. He had not followed her and Martin to the boathouse initially because he wanted time to think before they came to an outright confrontation and the excuse of unloading the car would give him that time. But, with Darleen keeping him tied up in conversation everytime he tried to get away he had precious little time for that in the last thirty minutes. She had finally excused herself and had gone to the bathroom and he had managed to sneak out the door and clear his thoughts for a moment anyway as he headed down toward the boathouse. He decided that perhaps now was the time to have it out with Martin after what he had subjected Janet to the other night. He would threaten outright to turn him in to the police for blackmail. After all, what he had threatened to do was legally extortion under the law. That might at least scare him enough to keep off their backs. He just couldn't let that bastard get at Janet again and force her to go to bed with him. He knew she just couldn't go through that again.

Greg walked the remaining distance down the bright stone path to the boathouse and entered by the unlocked door. He had expected to see Janet and Martin standing on the deck talking but they were nowhere in sight. He climbed the small gangway leading up the deck and walked heavily over to the entrance hatch. He reached down and tried it but it was locked.

Where in the hell have they gone; he grimaced to himself. Damn it, Martin said they were coming here. Must have wandered off somewhere else he muttered with a tinge of disgust. He had wanted to get this thing over with and head back for town. He had made up his mind that he and Janet weren't even going to spend the night here. It would just be too much and he might let himself get out of hand and punch that son-of-a-bitch Martin right in the teeth, if he caught him so much as looking at his sweet young wife.

It was then, that he heard the first almost inaudible whimpering sound.

"Ooooooooooohhhh," he heard echoing softly in the dim confines of the boathouse, a continuous noise filtering through to his ears.

"What the hell?" he muttered half aloud to himself, equating the sound to the contented purring of a pussy cat being stroked into sleep. It was very close and he closed his eyes and opened them again, straining to see into the darkness. There was nothing, and he turned to leave, his leather soled loafers clattering hard on the deck. Then, as he was ready to climb back down over the side of the boat he heard the sound more distinctly. It was a soft penetrating gasping of two almost synchronized voices, one male and one female. He paused and kept absolutely still, his flesh creeping on his arms.

He listened intently to the mewling sounds reflecting in the darkness as though someone were in pain. He stood motionless, wondering what he should do. And then heard a more distinct female murmur followed by the male voice muttering obscenities back at her.

It struck him like a bolt of lightening.

It was Martin and his wife!

Martin was fucking her down there and the lewd, horrible noises of their coupling was filtering up through the air vent on deck. My God, he thought crazily, they must really be going at it not to have noticed my steps on the deck. His first reaction was to run back to the hatch cover and tear it away with his bare hands. He would kill that bastard for taking advantage of Janet this way again but he held himself back. There were no screams or sounds of struggle, maybe he wasn't doing it to her yet, maybe he was just trying. He would have to find out first before he made a fool of himself.

Slowly he reached down and pulled off his loafers and crawled quietly on his stomach over to the opening of the air vent, where he could hear the sounds coming out more distinctly.

They were close, probably just below in the cabin. He could make out the vague sounds of rustling sheets and thought he could hear the dim noise of flesh smacking against flesh below. The gasps and whimpering moans rose up to meet him in the quietness of the half darkness around him.

God, he was fucking her and she obviously was enjoying it!

He wanted to leap up and shout down at them to stop, for God's sake, stop. Get off my wife! he wanted to scream out into the otherwise silence at the body he could almost visualize pumping wildly away between Janet's widespread legs.

But he didn't.

Instead, he lay there in a semi-state of shock listening while another man mercilessly fucked his wife within a few cruel feet of his trembling body. What could he do? God, what could he do now? It was too late… too late to do anything until he collected his shattered thoughts… and even then he wasn't certain there would be anything left to do.

As he lay, the lewd, wet noises coming up from the ventilator increased in intensity and suddenly eons later and without even thinking about it he found himself becoming excited. It wasn't as though it was his wife, the Janet he had loved and respected all these years. It was as though it were someone else, someone unreal, unseen, gasping and twisting out her passion beneath the strange body thrusting his cock into her down there in the guts of the boat. And then, he wished he could see them. Were they completely naked as they fucked? Or had Martin simply pushed her dress up over her hips and was screwing her through his open fly? It didn't seem they had much time to do much else, but then, all things were happening more quickly than they should the last few days. He had been caught embezzling, his sweet, young wife had been screwed until she almost couldn't walk by another man, and now here she was again, her voice giving out little encouraging shrieks of passion as that same man fucked her as though she were nothing but a dirty little whore while her husband listened helplessly a few feet away. But, my God, what a screw she sounds like she's giving him. She's never, in all the times in bed with her, reacted that way with me. Her gasps sounded so desperate and the low ceaseless murmur so passionate that he could feel a slight rise down at his loins. His prick jerked slightly, pushing heavily against the tightness of his shorts. God, that's what I've needed all this time, for her to just put out for me like that. He visualized Janet with her arms and legs wrapped tightly around Martin's naked body and his cock driving hard into the tight elastic walls of her pussy and his heart and loins filled with longing. He found he was hard and his hand moved down to his arching cock to fondle it.

Now he heard his wife muttering obscenities, obscenities broken and wracked with her passion, so that he thought he would die from the humiliation of her helpless pleading.

"Oooh, ooooh, fuck me, Martin, oh God, fuck me harder… deeper… deeeeper, oh God, yes… fuck my cunt… fuck it…"

And Martin's haunting words in return as he threw taunt after taunt at her. "Is it big enough for you, baby? Is it deep enough in your belly?"

"Oooooh, yesssss… God yes! It's huge… all the way in me…" she hissed between her desperate gasps of twisting effort.

"Bigger than Greg's?" he teased her on. "Does it fill you better?"

"Oh yes, oooooh yesss… I've never been fucked like this… never never… in all my life…"

He listened with aching ears and clenched his eyes tightly shut as though it would blot out the horrible words he was hearing, and quench the involuntary passion that continued its evil rise in his own body. God, how could it be that he could be lying here, listening to his own wife debauched and used like a whore off the streets and feel the lewd second-hand passion transmitting itself to his own body.

It wasn't right! It just wasn't right!

But… on and on it went and he found himself unable to stop his hands at his fly and jerked his own arching cock out into the open air. His consciousness seemed to fade away into an almost impenetrable darkness as his fingers began a slow mechanical up and down motion… up and down… up and down… and his own hardness grew and grew between his manipulating fingers. While below the wet, slapping sounds of his wife's and Martin's bodies pounding together filled his ears and swamped his mind with the lewd pleasure and passion that came from them.

He could hear the bunk groaning and squeaking under their straining bodies and could hardly distinguish his wife's gasping breath from that of the laboring Martin thrusting his cock into her hungry, clasping pussy.

Then, almost shocking him into reality again, he heard Janet's pleading cries splitting the heavy rhythm of their breathing: "I cumming, Martin! Ooooh God I'm cumming! Fuck faster! Fuck faster…" and then croon off into a weird, tiny whimper as she choked and gasped her orgasm out into the heat of the cabin below.

Greg's body trembled all over, his throat parched and a wild, uncontrollable aching throbbing through his still hardened cock. He was still in a state of shock but even through the agony of hearing another man bring his wife to a climax his mind was not his own. He considered running to the house and finding Darleen. He would fuck her until she couldn't move. God, how he would throw it to her to atone for all the humiliation and indignity her husband was now heaping upon his wife. But somehow, he couldn't tear himself away from the obscene sounds still rising up from the small circular opening of the vent by his ear.

He moaned inwardly to himself as he heard his wife sigh deeply and then give an occasional small grunt of surprise or pain as Martin ground his straining cock a little deeper than before.

And now, Martin's grunts were growing more desperate as he began to spit his commands at Janet to excite himself more as his own orgasm approached.

"Tighten your cunt! Damn it, squeeze it, squeeze it! Spread em wider… open 'em up… open 'em you bitch… gonna cum… gonna cum…"

Greg listened to the crude obscenities being hurled at his conquered wife with a flushed and haunted mixture of guilt and desire. His passion was overwhelming and in his excitement he found himself envious of the man who had built his wife to this searing point of lust and had her spread wide beneath him now waiting to take his hot, swirling semen deep in her own satiated belly. His cock was hard and throbbed like a living thing in his hands and he knew that it would not be long before it too erupted into a pulsating geyser of white, hot sperm.

He listened with bated breath to the pounding fury of Martin's body slapping down on his satisfied wife and pictured him forcing her legs all the way back over her head to get deeper and deeper into her. Her responding squeals rolled from her mouth as though she had gone insane and he felt as though he would not be able to bear it when Martin finally jetted his waiting load inside her. It would be too much torture for his own strangely mixed emotions that whirled dis-connectedly through his mind.

But, when it finally came, and he heard the animal-like groan erupting from Martin's panting mouth, he could do nothing but lay as he was and bear the pain and humiliation as best he could.

Groan after groan after groan spewed from the invisible lips in wave after wave of ringing orgasm until it seemed to Greg that the man must be nothing but a giant reservoir of sperm that pumped endlessly from his cock into the waiting belly of his groaning wife.

And then it was finally over, after several long passion-drained gasps. There was silence except for the heavy sounds of after breathing and a few last fleeting mewls of pleasure from Janet.

They were quiet for quite awhile and Greg could hear nothing but a few low, indistinct murmurs coming up from the opening of the vent. His own cock jerked slightly in his hands as he thought of Martin's long hard penis deflating slowly inside his wife's semen flooded vagina and he gave it a slight squeeze and forced it back in his pants. He was afraid they might come out soon and he did not want to be here to face them and give Martin the added triumph of knowing he had heard the entire thing.

His prick stayed hard in his pants. He had never heard anyone make love before and the obscene sound of his own wife getting fucked by another man had strangely excited him. Greg was no longer wronged husband, but an excited listener. His mid-western morals wanted him to run now from the boathouse but his impassioned body rejected the idea, too taken up by the thought they might do more, to move from the spot.

He did not hear the soft footsteps that tiptoed up behind him and the triumph that flickered through the woman's eyes as she gazed down at his head pressed tight against the ventilator opening. Darlene knew that she too would have to play the part of the wronged woman to be able to carry this out to it final result and not spoil the ultimate plan she and Martin had so carefully devised for this young, naive couple.

"W-What are they doing down there?" she whispered softly in the half darkness, so as not to startle the unsuspecting Greg and cause him to cry out.

He turned his head quickly, his face flushing from the sudden embarrassment of being caught like a peeping tom but regained his composure quickly when suddenly it hit him that they were in this thing together. After all, it was her husband down there balling his wife.

"Shhhhh," he raised her fingers to his lips and whispered secretly, a grim look shrouding his face. "I–It's Martin and my wife. T-They're making love."

Greg's face flushed from the crude admission and he was suddenly thankful that the light was dim and she could not see his embarrassment.

"I don't believe you," Darleen whispered back indignantly, her voice almost breaking from trying to hold back the laughter at the utter naivete of his statement.

"Come here then," he moved aside slightly and motioned for her to join him at the opening of the vent. Darleen carefully lowered herself down beside him and pressed her ear next to his. She listened for a moment and then turned to him.

"I don't hear anything," she said softly, a feigned doubt in her words.

"Wait just a moment and you will," he assured, his voice barely audible.

They lay silent for a moment longer and then Darleen felt Greg's body tense next to her as a soft, low murmur broke from the cabin below.

"Ooooooh Martin, your fingers feels good between my legs like that." Her words were broken by the soft rustling of the sheets as bodies twisted around on them. Then the feminine voice gave another soft intake of breath and moaned, "Ohhh, darling, that feels sooo good."

"I–I just don't believe it!" Darleen whispered, forcing a look of strained indignation on her face. "T-They wouldn't dare."

"Shhhhh," Greg cautioned again, suddenly becoming aware of the softness of Darleen's breast pressing tight into his arm. "They'll hear us."

"Alright," she nodded her head in agreement. "Let's give them plenty of rope to really hang themselves."

Greg turned his ear back to the vent in silent assent and listened intently for the next move from below. It came a second later.

The male voice crooned up through the darkness: "Get on the floor on your knees. I want you to kneel in front of me and suck me like you did the first night."

The answer was a gasp and exclamation of: "Oh yes, I want to feel it in my mouth. I want to feel it come again so I can taste it on my tongue."

The sound of weight lifting from the squawking bunk filtered through to their eager ears and then the slight noise of movement on the floor as Janet obviously positioned herself in front of Darleen's standing husband. Greg could hear Darleen's breath becoming heavy next to him and imagined a slight pressure from her breast digging into his arm.

She turned toward him, her lips wet from the circling of her tongue and whispered softly: "Let's sneak around to the porthole and watch them. Then we'll really know."

Darleen knew without a doubt that this would be the final breaking point for Greg. She was already aware of the hardness under his trousers and the way he had turned his body to hide it when she had first spoken to him. Yes, this was going to be easy. Easier than Martin seducing Janet and she going to thoroughly enjoy it. Particularly when that proud little bitch's turn came to catch she and Greg in bed together.

"Come on let's go," she rose silently and pulled him by the arm when he hesitated. "We may as well get the full show."

Greg followed quietly behind her as they slipped silently off the boat and tiptoed along the pier to the lighted porthole. There was foreboding in his mind. It was one thing to hear someone making love to your wife, but to actually see it being done was another thing. But he had no further time for misgivings as Darleen pulled his head over by hers to the small rounded glass.

A gasp came from his throat and his body tensed at the lewd sight that greeted him. There before his very eyes was his pure, young wife kneeling on the floor in front of the naked Martin. His hands were tangled tight in her long silken hair, pulling her face into his loins. Her thin lipstick rimmed lips were moist and she was running them over the flesh of his passion-swollen cock. He had never seen such a wild, abandoned look on her face before. It looked as though she were almost insane, her eyes bulging wide and locked straight ahead on the monstrous penis surging out from his belly. And God, no wonder, he thought, secretly marveling at the size of it. It was almost an inch longer than his own and much thicker. A pang of rejection shot across his brain. He could never grow that big and in spite of his wife's clean, innocent purity he found himself suddenly understanding her violent passion at the hands of this man. A jealous rage grew inside him and he wanted again to smash his way into the cabin and destroy them both but his eyes would not release their grip on the lewd spectacle going on inside.

"God, she's going to eat him alive," Darleen chided him. "Your sweet, young wife is going to suck my husband's cock."

She knew the words would only serve to increase his already smoldering passion rather than drive him to anger. She had seen it too many times before when she and Martin had arranged this little introduction for others. She had seen the sudden first burst of anger and indignation from many a husband and then watched it turn slowly to a masochistic kind of passion that excited them beyond all reason and thought. Greg was almost at that point. It would only take a few minutes more.

And she was right. Greg watched, hypnotized into immobility by the cruel exhibition going on a few feet in front of him. His breath came in small, deliberate gasps as he watched his wife's fingers teasing gently at Martin's testicles, at the same time swirling her tongue lasciviously along the underside of his huge hardened penis from the thick trunk-like base slowly out to the menacing blood-filled head. He could see a slight drop of glistening seminal fluid left over from their orgiastic climax of a few moments ago that hung precariously on the tip. Janet leaned her head back a few inches and stared trance-like at it for a moment, then leaned forward and hungrily licked it away with the tip of her tongue.

"God, she loves it. She really loves to suck cock doesn't she?" Darleen half murmured, half questioned beside him. "I'll bet she swallows it when he comes."

Greg felt a groan building in his chest from the lewdness of her words. Somehow they seemed even more obscene than the act his wife was performing on Darleen's husband in front of them. But, he also knew they were true. Janet's actions and passion spoke for themselves and there was no mistake about that.

"Look, darling, look! She's going to take it in her mouth." Darleen's breathing had become heavy and excited next to him and Greg felt his own passion building to an almost fever pitch as eyes locked on his wife's ovaled lips as she swayed sensuously on her haunches before the huge hardened penis in front of her face.

"Oh God, noooo…" he heard himself moan beneath his breath as Martin suddenly thrust his loins forward and the warm moistness of Janet's open, waiting mouth closed glove-like over the sensitive, throbbing head of his cock.

And Greg groaned again as Martin tightened his grip in the softness of her hair and began to fuck rhythmically in and out of her open lips. He stared increduously through the porthole, watching in almost total disbelief the pink inner flesh of her lips being pulled grotesquely out, clinging to the flesh of Martin's withdrawing prick and then disappearing back inside again with each forward thrust. God, those were the lips he kissed, those were the lips he loved and now he was standing here helplessly while another man shoved his great throbbing prick in and out between them as though they were nothing but a hungry lapping pussy. And again, in spite of his puritanical revulsion, he felt his own penis jerking hard beneath his pants as his wife warmed to the task before her. He could see with obscene clarity Martin's huge, thick rod disappearing and reappearing between her sucking fish-like lips her long disheveled hair flowing down over her shoulders and swishing back and forth on her hollowing back below. Her firm, white tits danced and shook beneath her tensing throat as though they had invisible strings attached to the hardened nipples and a puppet master quivered them playfully from above.

The gaping couple outside watched, their excitement growing by leaps and bounds as Janet slid more of Martin's huge, pulsating cock into her mouth, sucking at it voraciously. Slowly she filled her mouth with the giant flesh until she was nearly choking. They could see that she was taking a moment to adjust. No woman had a mouth large enough to accommodate a cock as big as that.

Greg felt Darleen's other hand cover his. He had been trying to push his own heated organ away from his trousers where it bulged. Her hand pulled his away and she replaced it with her own, massaging the swollen membrane softly. "What are we waiting for?" she breathed huskily, sensing that now was the time. "They're much too busy to offer us the entertainment we could offer each other. Besides, they deserve anything we do now."

Her hand massaging his cock made up his mind for him. Quietly they slipped away from the porthole and stood up. He pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. "Wait," she said. "Let's go to the house." Without a word he followed her out of the boat house and up the white stone path.

Inside the sloop's cabin Janet sucked at the massive prick in her mouth. Still on her knees she licked at it with her tongue and bobbed her head back and forth in the supposed motion of intercourse. She felt no shame at sucking him. But she was hurt that she had not been able to make him do this to her first. Instead he had forced her to her knees and bade her to do as he commanded.

She could not have resisted long, and didn't really care any longer. She could taste the sweet fluids of his body as they slowly seeped from him. The hands that held her head pulled her upwards, she started to get up, but did not want to release her lips from the cock in her mouth.

Finally the pressure was too much, and she had to let it slip wetly away. Martin guided her to the unfolded bunk and pushed her down on it. She sat on the edge and started to lean forward to grasp the cock that she wanted to suck more and bring to orgasm this time with the warmth of her lips.

"Wait a minute you little nympho," he said. "It's time for a sixty nine," and he pushed her onto her back and crawled onto the bed after her. He wasted no time in positioning himself upside down over her, his head between her upraised knees, his twitching red cock hovering inches over her mouth.

He dropped his head to the softness between her legs. His fingers spreading the thin silken pubic hair and lips that were still wet with the moisture of his earlier orgasm. He could feel the warm, pungent smelling fluids that had dripped on her thighs transfer their wetness to his cheek as he looked at the pink flesh within the soft silken pubic hair surrounding her vulva.

He pursed his lips and caught the small, hardened berry of her clitoris between them, nibbling gently at it, with his teeth. "Ooooh," she moaned and opened her mouth. His cock twitched with expectation. She lifted her head slightly and pulled a pillow beneath it to make herself more comfortable. Her arms shaking as the electric shocks that were finding their way from her clitoris to every part of her body raced to her nerves. Greedily she wrapped her lips elastic-like around the huge, pulsating penis and sucked the whole of its head into the warm, moist cavern of her mouth lubricating it with her own saliva.

She could feel his tongue toying with the swollen bud of her clitoris, as his nose lightly probed down into the lips of her yearning cunt. Another flow of lubricating liquids released themselves from deep within her hot clasping vaginal walls and she moaned out her ecstasy around the throbbing member encased tightly in her mouth.

The fiery tip of his cock in her mouth, drawing along the roof, excited her further. Without prompting she began to hum again, as she had done a week before. "Mmmmmm," he gasped trying to hold himself back as the vibrations from her throat jackhammered at the thin wall that held his climax back.

He pulled his head from her and slid his cock out of her mouth. He would fill her, but not there, not this time. "Are you ready," he asked, the fire in his eyes demanded only one answer. She started to say yes, but remembered what he had demanded before. She must use the words, and the words had become sweet to her, excited her, and she knew that by the very nature of their crudeness they would drive him to frenzy too.

"Yes," she sighed. "Fuck me, Martin. Fuck me as hard as you can." Her voice rose with each word to almost a shout, culminating in a last desperate gasp of: "Fuck me!" There was no other word that brought so much from deep within her. It was almost as though she were giving her soul to the devil when she shouted it. And… it almost was like that.

He turned and fell upon her, biting at the flesh of her shoulder as he lifted his hips and positioned the massive prick against the wet, hair-lined lips of her passion-inflamed cunt. He raised her buttocks slightly to prepare for the first violent thrust.

Then, he lunged forward on top of her, driving the weapon deep up into her belly, filling her with every inch of his swollen flesh. He reached around her thigh with his arm and pushed upwards on his cock, holding it tightly against the upper flesh of her smooth open channel and began to rock heavily back and forth, driving the great pole deeper and deeper as he fucked into her with ever increasing force.

The pressure rose in a heavenly crescendo of raw, naked lust deep down in the constricting muscles of her belly, the boat rocking storm bound under their violent fucking. His cock seemed to be stabbing at her insides. She could see nothing, her eyes closed, her head thrashing back and forth in wild abandon. There was no other place on earth for her. This was as close to heaven as she would ever come, the rest of the world was nothing… nothing and she never wanted to go back… never… never… Then as her mind raced in a great starry circle, the muscles of her belly began to pull apart, like a giant rubber band. It was ready to spring. She could feel the imaginary trigger release the tensed rubber band deep inside her as her whole torso began to churn and twist like a maniac beneath his pounding body.

"Oh, oh, ooohhh, I'm cumming," she screamed. "I'm cummmiiinnnggg now!" and a great whirlwind of release picked her up as she arched her back and rose to meet the waves of orgasm as they slapped deep at her very being, sending her into a psychedelic rapture, colors everywhere, smashing at her senses like huge waves in a cataclysmic storm.

She could feel Martin rise up in his own climax. "AAaarrgghhhhhh," he groaned, his face contorted in ecstatic pain as the balloon of sperm in his balls burst and hurled floods of white hot lava deep into her writhing belly. He kept thrusting his great cock into her, cumming in spurts, each one like a long, snaking whip beating a spastic rhythm on his quivering buttocks. She could feel his pelvis slam into her one final time as he emptied the last of his lewd, flowing semen into her for the second time today. He fell on top of her in collapse. He knew that he could do this ten times a day, and definitely planned on fucking this hot little bitch again and again before this weekend was over.

They lay still for a few minutes, neither saying anything, but only listening to their exhausted breathing and the light slap of waves against the boat that they had set to rocking in its mooring. Finally Martin got up.

"Here," he said, handing her the clothes that she had dropped hurriedly to the chair. "I want to see something." Not suspecting the slightest what was in store for her, Janet obediently dressed. Martin had seen Greg and Darleen at the porthole because he had know that the younger man would be there. Darleen had devised the plan, knowing that she would be able to take Greg, if he could see his wife with Martin.

The planning required that Martin now take Janet into the house, where Darleen would be giving Greg the working over of his life. Once the younger couple had both experienced the sight of the other in an unfaithful embrace, there would be no more obstacles for the two experienced swappers. They could then use them in any perverted way they so desired.

Martin did not have to wait for Janet. She dressed quickly. She wanted to get out of the boat house and back to the main cabin, where she could safely be with Greg. She did not want him to know what she had been doing. Her watch was in her purse. She did not realize that they had been alone for almost forty five minutes. She did not dream that Darleen might be making her move for Greg so soon.

Nearly blinded by the bright afternoon sun, she stopped for a moment outside the boathouse. Martin was patient. He knew what was coming and savored each extra moment. Darleen would be sure to hold the young man back until her husband could bring the unsuspecting young girl into the house and see what was taking place. He knew, she was a monster at that sort of thing.

"Don't be surprised at what we find up there," Martin said to her as they came up the path. "I'll bet Greg and Darleen have been going at it too."

She straightened her hair as best she could with her hands. "Why, they were unloading the car," she said innocently. "Besides, you know Greg better than that."

"For almost an hour. Don't be an idiot. And remember, he's human too."

Janet decided that Greg could not be so weak as to submit to another woman. He loved her and had proved it by trying to steal for her, and by his understanding that she had not been unfaithful by going to bed with Martin. It had been forced on her.

"Quiet," he said opening the back door. "We don't want to disturb the lovers just in case you're wrong."

Janet was angry that he should even be insinuating such things. She followed him silently into the house. There was no sound in the kitchen or living room. She looked up the stairs toward the balconied bedroom that hung overhead. The waves on the beach rushed onto the sand with the surging power of the sea. Their wet crashing impact was all that she could hear.

Suddenly her ears picked up the distinct humming sound that she knew could be imitated in only one way, the way she had heard herself as she had been trained to suck Martin.

Quietly the couple walked up the stairs, careful not to make any noise. At the top Janet's eyes first came upon a large orange and brown painting of a couple in copulation. Ugly, she thought first, before seeing what was going on below the picture.

There, through the open door of a bedroom on a huge king-sized bed, were Greg and Darleen, locked in the same obscene, but exciting, sixty-nine position she and Martin had almost devoured each other in, a few short minutes before. Darleen was upside down astride Greg, her loins pressed tightly down over his face as he licked and chewed hungrily at her wet, open pussy. Her head was bent and she had wrapped her lips tightly around his cock. It was hardened, she could see as Martin's wife bobbed her head up and down in an age old sexual rhythm, to a size she had never thought possible. Greg had never been so huge, so huge and excited as he obviously was at that moment. This could not be her husband, she thought in sudden confusion, and if Darleen had not momentarily lifted her grinding loins to expose the glistening passion-crazed face of Greg, his young trembling wife would never nave believed it.

The huge bed was rocking and groaning with their movement as they twisted and turned in wild abandoned rhythm, their bodies appearing as some great headless four-legged monster thrashing about in the last desperate throes of death.

Martin smiled triumphantly and handed the younger girl a glass. She knew instinctively that he had probably filled it with the same passion inciting liquid he had given her before, but right now it didn't matter. Her breathing had stilled slightly and her heart seemed to be beating high in her throat. Instead of being repulsed and horrified by the lewd spectacle of her husband and another woman locked in the unnatural embrace of oral love, she was becoming strangely excited by it.

She lifted the glass to her lips and watched the couple perform. Martin sat on the bed beside them and leaned over, tapping Darleen on the shoulder, she released her grip on the young man's cock and turned to look at her husband. He made the "V" for victory sign and she smiled, then turned back to the twitching cock of the young man below her. He continued to suck at her, inserting his tongue deep into her yearning vagina, teasing the soft pink flesh as he rotated it lasciviously back and forth.

"Hmmmmmmmmmm," she hummed on, starting to add a little beat to it as she felt Martin's hand begin to slap her lightly on the buttocks in a definite musical rhythm.

Janet listened, intent on the musical fluctuations of Darleen's vibrating vocal chords. She saw Martin slipping off his trousers after he drained the glass that he had been drinking. He had not put his shirt back on after leaving the boathouse and was quickly naked. She picked the glass off the bed and put it on the table. The glass had become hot to her touch. She knew it wasn't the liquid, because she was drinking the same thing herself. It had to be her own sense of heightened touch. She had become supersensitive to everything.

She watched as Martin began toying with the cleavage between the soft rounded moons of Darleen's buttocks. No, Janet, thought, the potion now having taken effect. That's mine. He is mine now. She started to take off her blouse, and stood to remove her shorts. Her eyes looked down at Greg as he turned his head, gasping to get a little extra air. He looked at her, recognizing her, but giving no sign. She was just another naked woman to him now, and she would not let him get away with screwing Darleen, she would get hers too. She jumped on Martin's back.

He started to buck her off, but stopped when he felt her fingernails run down his backside and between his legs. She had gone wild. Like a savage animal, she was completely taken into the lustful battle that raged on the huge bed.

She was unaware of Darleen and her husband. She wanted to do to this man what he had done to her. Martin knew it had finally come. He had wanted her to take the initial step she was now taking, but did not know how to force her. The potion and the overheated sex that permeated the entire house had done the job for her.

Her fingers groped at his backside and he rolled them both away from the other couple onto a space of their own but out of the corner of her eye she still watched her husband greedily suck at the other woman. She could not take her eyes off of him, nor could her ears shut out the wet, sucking sounds that he was making with his voraciously moving mouth.

Her hands had radar of their own. She found the ring of Martin's anus at the same time she felt his middle finger thrust deep into her once violated behind. Expecting trouble, she was surprised that his rectum was soft and susceptible to her probings, opening easily as he relaxed it before her touch.

His middle finger squirmed around and around inside her rectum and she followed suit, imitating his every move with her own hand inside him. They were in perfect tune. There was not as much pain as the first time he had violated her. Now she masochistically wanted her husband to watch as another man fucked her in the ass. There was no greater indignity and suddenly she wanted to subject him to it. Her breathing was heavy, like a tigress in heat. She did not know what she would be able to do for him, until…

She felt something touch her shoulder and looked around, taking her gaze off Greg and Darleen for a moment. Hazily she saw that his hand held two long black objects, unmistakably men's penises, but they were rubber, she thought hazedly as she took one. There was no doubt what he wanted now.

The rubbery tip of the dildo that Martin held probed at her backside. She tried to relax her anus though it clenched automatically against the pain it knew would soon come. She positioned the dildo in her own hand against the small puckered opening of Darleen's husband's rectum, slipping it a half an inch into him with almost no effort.

Her eyes bulged wide like a madwoman's. This was crazy. We are going to fuck each other like men, she thought. What has happened to us? What's happening to me?

There was no answer for the young girl as she squealed at the sudden intrusion into her anus by the large black dildo that penetrated a good four inches in one quick, forceful thrust.

"Aaarrrggghhhh," she screamed. "Too much… It's too much." The pain seared through her lower body. He had pushed it deep into her without warning, but the sudden shock had caused her to do the same to him.

The dildo she held firmly had nearly impaled him to its entire six inch length. He writhed in ecstasy at the intrusion. She tried as hard as she could to relax her sphincter. The effort was tremendous, but as she neared success the pain took a new turn. Its effect changed slowly to one of pleasure as she accepted the hard rubber intruder into her rectum. She gyrated her hips slowly, sensuously signaling her partner that it was all right now.

He did so, not concerned with her pleasure, but only with the searing heat that burned more than half a foot into his backside. He began to move himself back and forth, cueing the girl to do the same as he felt the black weapon scorching the insides of his rectum. Both used their hands to increase the pitch. Janet was no longer concerned with her husband and Darlene who had finished their escapade for the time being.

Greg was watching his wife, but made no sound, his mouth wide in horror as he saw what she was doing.

Her hand was jerking back and forth furiously, pushing the dildo as fast and as hard as she could. Martin was doing the same to her. Their bodies seemed tangled as he rode over her, making no effort to slacken the pace. The pitch, instead rose as they neared their climax.

The hard phallus inside her surged back and forth. All power in her body suddenly centered on her back side. Her soft flaccid buttocks clenched and unclenched in rolling spasms as she felt an avalanche of sensation suddenly shoot through her spinal chord like a lightening bolt, striking at the base of her skull, only to be followed by another.

"Arrggghhh," she shrieked, "I'm cummmmmiiinnnggg, ooooohhh God!"

Her body jerked forward and the dildo slid out of her opening with a slight pop as she writhed on the sweat soaked sheets, basking in the fiery light of her orgasm as she came again and again. Her hand still forcing the rubber log deep into Martin's pumping buttocks as he raised up, clenched the muscle of his sphincter and held the dildo hard up inside him.

She wiggled it back and forth furiously. "Uggghhhnnnn," he moaned trying to suppress it. "Aaarrggghhhh, I'm cummmiinngggg," he finally screamed and then jerked over onto his side, white hot liquid spewing from his hardened cock out onto her thighs and belly. For minutes there was no sound in the room.

Darlene was the first to speak. "That was fantastic," she said, directing a caustic remark at the younger woman. "I've never seen anything so professionally done from a novice. You learn quickly Janet, my love."

The younger girl looked up and smiled. Her mind was fogged by the drug and she still felt the remnants of her orgasm. Her eyes passed over the shocked face of her husband. They both knew exactly what Martin wanted and they both had accepted it. They were trapped but too exhausted and excited to protest.

Martin got up and poured four more glasses from the pitcher. "It's going to be a long weekend," he said with a victorious smile on his lips. "Drink up and we'll have something to eat. After that I'm sure we can find something to keep us occupied for a few more hours."

CHAPTER NINE

Wednesday morning Janet slept until eleven o'clock. She had done the same since coming home Sunday night after a hazy weekend that seemed like a dark nightmare of pleasure and yet horrible degradation for her.

She and Greg had said nothing about their experience, but had gone straight to bed. She could remember making love with Martin and Greg, and somehow an experience with Darleen crept into her mind. She was physically exhausted until she woke up Wednesday. Most of the first two days had been spent sleeping. Greg had made love to her the night before and surprised her with his new found knowledge. They had found new pleasures over the weekend and were eager to show them off to each other.

She pulled herself out of bed and reached for her robe that lay on the floor. Greg had not bothered to pick it up when he had left for work.

She was amazed at the change that had come over him. He had been completely taken by their experience and all he could think about was sex. Their life had changed in the last few days. His interests were centered around nothing but the special party they were scheduled to go to tonight. Darleen had told them about Grant's Tomb in the car, but had not mentioned anything further to her about it.

Martin, however, had discussed the matter with Greg. The two men were eager to go, much more so than Janet. She sensed that something was amiss with Darleen. The older woman had been too obsequious and too friendly. Although Janet did discover she liked Darleen a little more after the weekend. She had gotten to know her much better and couldn't help it, even if she did feel guilty about what had happened to her.

She had never known such pleasures, but still, it seemed wrong to her. Greg, on the other hand, had seemed to enjoy himself so much, though she dared not speak about it, thinking it would only anger him. He could always say she started it. Besides, it was fun and wouldn't last forever. They would grow tired of it. A few weeks at most, she thought as she brushed her teeth.

Oh dear, she would have to hurry. Her appointment with the hairdresser was only forty-five minutes away and she wanted to look perfect for the night. Greg said they would meet some important people at the party and it would be good for business as well as fun.

"They should be here in a few minutes," Martin told Peter Grant. "We told them to meet us at ten."

"I'm looking forward to it," the shorter man replied. "If she's everything you say, we should have a real ball."

"Don't leave me out," Deborah interrupted. "Darleen told me that Greg is a man to be reckoned with in bed."

"That's true," Martin said. "She said that he hardly knew a thing when they first started. But by eight o'clock Sunday night I was starting to get a little jealous. He really put it to her. He seemed to be some sort of sleeping beauty. It just took the right teacher to get him to wake up," he said, putting his arm around his wife's shoulder and looking at her like a father whose daughter had just won a scholarship.

"Where's Monroe," Darleen asked. "I wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun for all the world."

"Don't worry," their host said, smiling. "He has been thinking about it all day and is really ready. I only hope she isn't too shocked by his looks. He's not what you'd call a handsome man."

Monroe watched them laugh from a distance. He knew that they were talking about him but didn't mind the laughter. If it pleased Peter to laugh about him, then it was alright. After all, none of them had ever done anything to hurt him.

He grinned and turned to the door as it opened. A beautiful young woman, her blonde hair piled high in ringlets entered the club, a young man about the same age right behind her. Monroe had never seen them before and suspected they were the new couple.

"I'm Mr. Richards," the man said hesitantly as his gaze wandered around the club. "We're supposed to meet the Kellys and Mr. Grant here."

Monroe smiled. His wide mouth spread hideously across his rough face. This was the girl they had told him about, he thought. Mr. Grant is a God. Never before had he met a girl like her. And now, thanks to his employer and friend, he would have her tonight.

"Please," he said. "This way." He led them toward the two couples standing near the dark curtain. A few of the diners lifted their heads to watch the girl in the baby blue cocktail dress as she and her husband followed the ugly giant across the room.

Greg laughed a greeting to Martin and they were introduced to the Grants. Monroe left them alone, not wanting to seem as if he were imposing.

"Who was that bruiser at the door," Greg asked.

"My bodyguard. He's most helpful."

"I don't think I have ever seen a more ugly man in my life," Janet said, genuinely in awe of the huge man, but trying to seem sophisticated at the same time.

Peter told them Monroe's story as they walked behind the curtain to a large door. He took out his key and unlocked the double lock, then motioned them to ascend the staircase.

The men talked while Janet thought about the bodyguard who had seemed so polite. He acted somehow as if he had been waiting for her especially. Of course, he probably had special instructions to meet them at the door and take them to Peter Grant. She always enjoyed being watched by men, but not leered at. He's just a dumb animal, she thought, pushing the sudden anxiety from her mind. He meant no harm.

She had no idea what the party was going to be. She had supposed it would be a dinner party in the private rooms above the main club. She had heard Greg speaking with Martin about the excellence of the upper rooms. Though Greg had changed a great deal in the last few days, she thought his enthusiasm was for the food Martin had told him about. Greg said nothing to her when she had casually asked during the drive to the Tomb.

It must be special, perhaps a surprise. She knew she would spend the night in bed with Martin after they left. It was obvious and she didn't really mind it. Once or twice a week for a few weeks wouldn't hurt. Greg didn't object, but seemed to look forward to being with Darleen. If that was the case, then she should not object, but make the most of whatever would come of the night.

At the top of the stairs they entered the first door on the right. The room was blue, covered with drapes. Four other couples sat on red pillows on the floor. The men rose as they entered. One by one Peter introduced the newcomers to the special club members. Most of the men were about Martin's age, or a few years younger. The women were in their late twenties and exceptionally beautiful.

It was apparent to her that they were all affluent. The men all wore black ties and tuxedos, as did Greg, but theirs seemed to fit better and they wore them more comfortably.

Everyone held a tall frosted glass. A waiter brought a tray and Janet took a glass. It was filled with a light red liquid that tasted much like punch, but with a strange, haunting sweetness to it. "What is it," she asked Martin.

"Something from the islands. It will do you no harm," he said, then added with a warning smile, "but watch out for the kick."

Janet didn't understand why he laughed. Surely he wouldn't think of spiking this punch as he had done to her earlier. They could not possibly do something like that in a place where all these wealthy and important people congregated.

Later, when everyone had gotten to know each other, she heard Peter talking to the huge bodyguard. "I think we are ready," he told Monroe who stood by the door. The bodyguard walked into the hall and locked the door at the top of the stairs and then locked the door to the room from the inside. He stood like a statue and nodded to his employer. Peter took a seat and spoke with Martin. She didn't hear what he said, but thought it had something to do with either Monroe or the door. He nodded several times in that direction and the two men laughed.

Monroe knew what the two men were talking about. He was pleased that so much notice was being paid to him tonight. He would be the center of attention and wanted to perform well in order to please Peter. He looked at the girl that would soon be his and smiled inwardly to himself. Yes, he would please his boss very, very well tonight.

His large hairy hand turned the dial beside him and the lights dimmed to almost darkness.

"Tonight has a special treat for us donated by none other than Martin and Darleen themselves." Peter Grant said from his sitting position. As he spoke one of the curtains parted, displaying a large white screen. Janet turned as she heard a curtain open behind her, exposing a motion picture projector. Monroe walked to the machine and turned it on.

Janet took another large sip of her drink. The glass was almost empty. She had never tasted anything like it. It was like a mixture of strawberry and cantaloupe. A waiter took her glass and handed her another without her asking then passed the tray to the other guests as they replaced their empties with the glasses he gave them.

Lights flashed on the screen. A small whirring sound came from behind her as she listened to Peter. "We have two new members with us tonight. You have met them. And now you are about to see them in action." Janet did not quite hear what he said but she gathered that he had been speaking about her and Greg by all the turned heads that looked in their direction.

Martin knew exactly what Peter meant. The light from the screen reflected on his lewdly grinning teeth. This was going to be fun he chuckled. Really fun.

Janet watched the white sands of a familiar California beach roll across the screen and felt herself becoming extremely light headed. She gave a puzzled look down at the drink. No, she thought, shaking her head. He wouldn't dare do it here. Besides he was never near the drinks. He couldn't know which one would be mine.

Deep in thought about the drink, she didn't notice the house on the screen. She looked up when she heard Peter speak. "You will all recognize Martin's beach house. Everyone here has been there at one time or another. With the exception of these introduction shots, this whole film was shot last weekend. It took a lot of work getting it developed in time for tonight."

Last weekend, Janet thought, suddenly alarmed. Martin didn't have a camera. There must be a mistake. Ten seconds later she knew it was no mistake. The screen flashed with the whiteness of bare skin. The lens zoomed away from the skin until the whole ten foot square bed was in view. Janet gasped.

That was her on the screen. She was with Martin. She started to rise, but was too dizzy. She turned to Greg, but he was gone. There was no trace of him in the room. What was happening? She looked helplessly back at the screen, her throat contracting painfully. She wanted to scream. Everyone was enjoying the film. In living color on the wall she was astride Martin. Janet watched herself in horror. His penis was hidden deep within her as she rode him like a horseback rider, his rigid cock disappearing into the crack between her thighs, so that only a tiny little stretch of it was showing, wet and glistening.

"You all know about the hidden cameras," Peter said to the group at large. "But of course, the new couple had no idea that they would be photographed. Looks just like you," he added, turning to Janet who could not take her eyes off the screen.

"This is part of your initiation into the inner circle, Janet," he said. "You should be proud that you turned out so well in the flics. Most of the people here did not turn out nearly as well," and then he turned his attention back to the screen.

As Janet watched, she remembered everything that had happened to her during the weekend. The scenes switched often. Like a psychedelic film, the projector was revealing every exciting moment of her lost weekend.

She looked around the room for Greg. The couples on the pillows were undressing each other in the semi dark room. Janet could see that the couples she had been introduced to were not together. She looked to the screen to see Darlene and Greg, then back to the room, searching for her husband.

All the people in the room were almost naked now and playing with each other. None of them had engaged in actual copulation, but that was not far off, she could see. But where was Greg? If all these other people were going to do it then she and Greg could too. She wanted to do it!

Her mind was not her own. She could feel the fire between her legs. The room was hot, but she did not want to strip. Not by herself. A hand rested on her shoulder. Expecting to see Greg, or at least Martin, she was surprised when she turned.

Peter stood over her, his swollen penis jutting out from his body. One of the women stood nude next to him. "That is only part of your initiation," he said. "It's hot, don't you think? Let's take off your dress and get naked."

She did not want to, not here like this with a perfect stranger. "Where's my husband," she asked, an alarmed expression on her face. "Where's Martin?"

The idea of being in a room full of nude copulating strangers excited her, but she did not want to be with one of them. She wanted one of the men she knew.

Peter pointed across the room at his wife, who was straddling a man lying on one of the pillows. "There," he said. "There with my wife is good old Greg. He's one in a million, that boy. It took him no time at all to get into the swing of things."

She could not believe it. She staggered to her feet. The drugged drink had hit her like a dozen Martinis. She could hardly navigate as she walked through the naked, squirming bodies sprawled on the floor. The room flashed with different colors, nearly blinding her. On the screen scores of still shots flashed. Pictures of her with Martin, Greg and Darleen… Oh, God, she said aloud as she saw herself with Darleen on the screen, the two of them in a wild lesbian embrace with her own face sunk tightly between Darleen's straining thighs.

She tripped over another pillow and fell to the floor, her head beside her husband's. The euphoric look on his face needed no explanation. He, too, had taken the drug, she thought. A laugh brought her eyes up to Deborah who was sliding herself up and down on Greg's swollen shaft. The delight in her eyes was too much. Janet could not take any more. All of these people were fucking and she had no one, no one except the men on the screen and in the strange distorted haze of the drug it suddenly all seemed so unfair… so unfair… and… and sick…

She picked herself off the floor and started for the door. She had to escape. They were all insane. Not even in Rome would they have done this, she thought. They were all crazy… all crazy. As she walked, the flashing lights from the screen dimmed. She reached out for something to grab and steady herself in the darkness.

The screen flickered a few more times and died. The film clip had ended. Half conscious, Janet felt a strong hand lift her and carry her across the room. She felt the man take a small step up onto the tiny stage that was covered with pillows directly below the screen that was being shut out by the closing curtains.

The hands worked eagerly at her dress taking it off quickly, but carefully, not damaging her garment. She hadn't the strength to open her eyes. Her ears barely heard the moaning and gaspings as couple after couple raced to wild orgasm in the room around her.

"Ready," she heard Peter's excited voice after a few moments. She was completely naked and vulnerable, lying limply back into the mattress, she shuddered and tried to close her arms over her exposed breasts as she felt the hot breath of a man breezing across her stomach.

The man stood up. "Ready," he answered in a heavy guttural voice.

Her eyes popped open at the sound of the deep voice that boomed over six feet above her head. Oh no, she thought, as she looked up to the underside of the largest penis she had ever imagined. It jutted straight out from his body in magnificent but frightening erection, curving slightly upward toward the large bulbous head. It was ten inches long and had an incredible diameter.

It should have belonged to Zeus, the God of war, but instead, was connected to the hairy muscular body of Peter Grant's bodyguard. "Ooooh," she gasped aloud. His feet were on either side of her head. The hairy muscular legs rose from the small stage like giant monuments to the phallus at their apex. Janet shuddered, her body shrinking down tight into the mattress.

"You're awake," Peter Grant said smiling down at her. He leaned over, putting one knee on the pillow by her hips. "We were afraid you'd had too much. How do you feel?"

The girl could not answer. She tried to focus on his face. She turned her head and saw that the men and women in the room had gathered near the stage in a close semi-circle, their eyes bearing excitedly down on her naked flesh. They were still fondling each other and some of the leering faces were familiar. Martin was with one of the other women and his wife gently stroked Peter's hanging penis as he talked with her.

Janet looked for Greg. He sat three feet from her, his fingers between Deborah's legs, fondling the soft lips of her open vagina only slightly hidden from view by the soft silken hair surrounding it. He was not better than the rest, she thought dimly, hopelessly. Her mind screamed at him, but the response to her vocal chords was too slow and by the time it reached her lips, it was no longer necessary.

She could smell the sweetness of sex in the room. Her own husband had become a part of this ungodly group. "Remember," Peter said in a slow hypnotic monotone. "I told you that the movie was the first part of the initiation?" She nodded vaguely.

"Well this is the second part. Greg," he said, pointed at her husband. "Has already fulfilled his second half. Now it is your turn. All the men drew straws to see who would be your partner and Monroe won. I hope you are as good to him as you were to our friend Martin on the screen."

The girl could not believe the words. They seemed almost in a foreign tongue. These were respectable people. Yet they were all in this room with the same idea in mind… community sex. She looked about her and saw many of the large cocks again growing to erection from the sight of her young helpless body. The potion had taken good care of all of them.

Janet looked about her. The couples were swaying gently to the soft Indian sitar music that now flowed through the room. It was like a sacrifice. She was the most innocent of the group and they were going to change her, make her exactly like them, perverted, insane with sexual desires.

Her future flashed before her as she looked into the dark, far away eyes of her husband and her friends. There was no escape. She knew that no matter what she would try to do, they would have a hold on her. It was no use, no use at all.

The music sounded louder to her. A faint drum and sitar played in the melodic undertones of the new music of the twentieth century. She was on an altar, her innocence about to be slaughtered in sacrifice to the ritualized sex cult of the new age.

Tears filled her eyes. Once she had wanted children. After tonight, she, like the rest of the couples, would have no children. No woman would be able to face a child, knowing that she had done what she was about to do.

If the act had been totally forced upon her, such as rape, she might have survived, but she knew she would willingly consent. Tears involuntarily streamed down her face and she found herself actually wanting Monroe to take her with all his ugliness, all his brute strength, right in front of these people. She wanted him as she must have wanted Martin, as she would want so many other faceless men in the years to come.

She uttered a silent prayer for herself as the giant bent to kiss her. His yellow teeth shown from under his dark mustache. His breath was strangely sweet. He must have made a point not to offend her and seemed almost like a child to her, doing what he knew would feel good, doing what he had been summoned to do.

She made no sound as his heavy lips sensuously caressed her neck. The aphrodisiac accented the touch of his hairy lips upon her skin, her legs weakened as he leaned his body on top of her.

The huge swollen prick was lying against her thigh almost reaching to her waist. Its size outlined against her flesh frightened her. Perhaps, not knowing what he was doing, he would kill her with his monstrous weapon. It would be impossible for her to take such a massive cock into her. God, she moaned in her half conscious state, she would be split open and she prayed silently that pain might black her out, then she would not have to remember what happened when her reason returned and with the reason, the horrible, horrible guilt of the leering faces around her.

She looked at the swaying eyes as they stared through the dim light. She could see her image reflected on their glazed pupils. The couples silently sipped at their drinks.

Her husband looked down at her with a detached interest, his interest in her was not her plight, but what the sight of her with another man would do to excite him. He smiled as Deborah slid her hand between his legs and played with the soft flesh surrounding the base of his erect penis. He was like a total stranger.

Janet stared at him. It was not her husband at all and he could never be again. For them, marriage would only be a partnership in adultery. She accepted the fact with a foreboding shudder of the future and turned her attention back to the Goliath on top of her.

What the hell, flickered through her shattered mind. If that's what the bastards, including Greg, want then give 'em a show they'll never forget!

Monroe was too excited by her beauty to control himself. He did not know what to do and was surprised and grateful when the beautiful girl he held started to gently scratch the small of his back with her nails. He wanted to get inside her at once and feel the sweet warmth of her pussy clasping around him but she was so small, he was afraid he would hurt her.

Then, unexpectedly she rose to a sitting position beside him. He looked at her while he leaned on one arm. He did not know what she wanted. He turned his head to find Peter, hoping that the little man would have some advice for him, some word to guide his next move. But he needed no next move.

Janet gently pushed at him, so that he would lie on his back. The giant obeyed like a small child. She closed her eyes and tried to smile, hiding her disgust at the ugliness of his innocent face. She doubted if a face like his even held the intelligence to add simple figures. They were both nothing but playthings of the group. They were to perform, or be thrown to the lions of loneliness and so they obeyed.

She straddled his chest and touched her lips to his neck. He had no foul odor as she might have imagined. He was clean, and though his hands were rough, his skin was as soft as any man's might be. As she worked her way down his body with her lips she could see his muscles straining, holding back.

She slid her body further down as she toyed, teasingly with her teeth at the hair around his nipples. His entire body was covered with thick, black hair, though not as much as many men she had seen and it strangely excited her in a primeval, animalistic way.

She could see the power of Greek Gods in the muscles that strained beneath his tight skin. Suddenly her rear end bumped into his upward straining shaft of flesh. The head was white hot and she felt for a moment as though she had been burned. All the eyes in the room were intently glued to her now. They had expected to witness a wild, brutal ravishment and her sudden assent and participation had stirred their perverse expectations even more.

Without a sound the huge man started to roll his body so that she slid off and for a moment she was again afraid, too afraid to notice the heat welling up inside her. Monroe saw that her nipples were erect and knew that he would excite her as he had frightened her. Every woman that he had had in the last few years was as excited as she was afraid of his huge bulk and strength. But somehow this one was different. He could feel that her fear was not entirely of him, but of something in their audience. His unresponding brain could not determine what.

She lay on her back. Her husband and the others watching and waiting in excited expectation. She knew now that he had been to the club already, probably since Sunday. She knew that he had knowledge of what was to take place on the stage and vowed that she would revenge herself on him now if she could only stand the shame and humiliation of doing it in front of all these leering faces.

The giant leaned over and straddled her. His fingers stroked the moist lips of her vagina. He wanted to be sure that she was already rising in desire. He needed to be assured that she wanted him and was ready when he took her. The pain would be too great otherwise.

Instead of leaning forward and kissing her as she expected, the huge bodyguard began to shuffle forward on his knees, one straddling each side of her body. Her face was as close to the giant's pulsating cock as she had been. It swayed from side to side as he moved forward like a cripple, inching slowly on his knees, his body erect.

He leaned forward and placed his hands on the pillow above her head. The cock was now dangerously close to her face. Her mouth hung open at the sight of it. Her amazement did not cease. Such a penis should belong to no man, and it didn't. It belonged to the animal that leaned over her. He moved a few inches backward until his balls rested on her belly.

The huge, crimson head rested in the cleavage between her breasts. All eyes in the room looked at the gigantic reclining log. Slowly the big man began to rock slightly. She could feel the soft tickling sensation from the hair of his testicles as they seemed to roll across the flesh of her chest and stomach. They were huge and unexpectedly heavy. It's been a long time for him she thought, knowing that they must be filled to the brim with eager, but dormant sperm.

Her skin tingled at the touch. The great log moved between her breasts and she lifted her hands to their sides. She pressed her firm full breasts toward each other so that the shaft became almost invisible between them when he rocked backward.

Each time he came forward she could see the huge head appearing snake-like through the opening it made between her breasts. She pushed her head back into the pillow and looked up with open mouth at the man who straddled her. His mouth also hung open in lustful wonder as he stared down at her voluptuous young breasts held so tight around him. His mustache was damp with perspiration. She knew that it was almost too much for him, that he was holding back with all his power to save himself as long as he could. It gave her a sudden, great sense of power to know that in spite of all his strength and power she could control him this way.

They looked at each other for a long while. Both had become kindred spirits. Both knowing that they were being used for other people's perverse pleasure. Monroe was ashamed that all these people should watch the girl submit to him. He knew he was ugly and she was too beautiful to ever have done anything with him if she had not been forced.

She smiled up at him and he felt better. If they must do it, then he would not hurt her. Her eyes remained wet as they began to set a perfect rhythm. Each time she saw the huge cock disappear and reappear between her breasts she nearly gasped in unfounded fear.

Her loins ached at the wonderment of anticipation of being screwed by the huge cock. Her legs were spread wide down behind him and the air in the room lavished her yearning vagina with kisses. She turned to watch the spectators.

They had not stopped staring, but their fondling had become more alive. She could see the other couples toying with breasts, with legs, with penises and hands roaming haphazardly everywhere. In the reflection she could see her husband insert his index finger into Peter's wife's moist, open vagina as she squirmed down on his hand, her eyes wide and smoky.

Janet reached up with her nails and lightly scratched the giant's back. He moved forward, stopping his motion. He wanted her to suck him, but was afraid that her mouth would not be big enough. All the women he had ever had always wanted to suck him, but few had succeeded in taking the whole of the giant head between their lips.

She slid her nails along the small of his back and over the muscular buttocks pressing them slightly toward her face. Slowly he lowered his hips as she urged him forward. The tremendous cock was only an inch from her lips now and in his excitement a single drop of clear translucent liquid seeped from the throbbing tip. She removed her hands from his buttocks and reached up toward his straining loins.

"Aaahhhhhh," he sighed as she took hold of the throbbing prick with both hands. Her touch was light, yet firm. The crowd moaned their approval in unison, excited at the prospect of watching this young, pure housewife sucking the giant man hovering over her face.

She pulled her hands toward her mouth, stroking the massive cock gently back and forth. She pursed her lips, ready for the real beginning. She was going to suck this man in front of all of them. She would make the women jealous, she thought in her drug inspired daze, and the men too. She would show them and they would all like to trade places, but she and Monroe had the stage and were going to keep their place. If these people needed something like this to stimulate them then she would give it to them, like they had never had it before. She knew that not long from that moment she would be one of them. But tonight she would be above them, not far, but above them at least.

She bent her head slightly forward and her tongue darted out at the single clear drop, licking it lasciviously back into her mouth. She closed her lips and swallowed the sweet droplet, savoring it dramatically for the benefit of her audience. "Mmmmmmmm," she moaned. It was sweet, sweeter than Martin or her husband. It belonged to a man who could break them both in half, and probably would do so at her command.

She rolled her head to the side and looked at Darleen who was intent on vengeance, but had failed. Her revenge had become Janet's pleasure. The girl was in the center of the stage, and she, Darleen, had become just another bystander, content to watch the role be played out before her, only able to catch a glimpse of and feel vicariously the ecstasy the younger girl enjoyed.

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

"Oooohhhh," the huge bodyguard moaned as she gently began to suck at him. Her mouth was already almost opened to its fullest extent and she didn't know if she could get even the head inside. She stretched her jaws wider and pulled him gently, until with sudden grunt of straining effort, she swallowed the whole head into her mouth.

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

He closed his eyes as she started to suck harder and pull more of his swollen cock into her mouth. She knew that she could not take much more but her sudden hunger was becoming insatiable. Her jaws were sore, but she savored the moisture rising in him and sucked as though her life depended on it. Not even half the massive prick had fit into her mouth. It was impossible to take any more.

She slid her head back and forth as best she could, hearing the giant moan each time she did but she was nearly exhausted, though the fires deep within her were burning harder. She wanted to swallow all of the huge cock, to show them all, but knew it was no use. She wanted the pain of him entering her fiery cunt, hurting her for what she had done, for becoming a raging animal no better than the rest of those who watched her. She wanted to be punished, punished as she had never been before.

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

Janet slackened her jaws when she felt the big man pull himself away from her. Peter must have said it, she thought, turning her head to see the panting crowd at their side. They had, without exception, put down their drinks and some were now watching down on all fours, their mouths hanging open, waiting for the next move. Peter's wife had dropped to her knees in front of Greg and she saw her eyes looking sideways at her as she sucked hungrily at his cock. He was leaning back on both hands, supported by trembling arms as he excitedly watched Monroe's penis slowly pull away from his own wife's ovalled lips.

Janet's eyes adjusted to the little more light that came to them when Monroe had moved his body that had shadowed the illumination from the blue bulb at the other end of the room. Her legs were spread, her knees almost pointing completely away from her. She lay limply back, ready for anything the hulking giant wanted to do to her now. The pain in her jaws subsided as she waited almost impatiently for the next move.

"Oooohhhhh, darling," she cried out as she felt his tongue part the thin, golden pubic hair that sparsely covered the soft pink lips of her cunt. Her words even further excited the spectators. She was completely at his mercy, totally under his power and she loved it. She loved it so much to call the huge hairy beast, darling.

He used his large fingers to hold the lips apart. He pulled his head back a few inches to focus his eyes on the sweet loveliness he was about to eat. It looked so clean, so pure. The smell was sweet, like the smell of fresh rain in a forest. He had never experienced anything so clean, so innocent, so eager to please him, and now he would please her.

His tongue darted out at the swollen clitoris that throbbed like a man's tiny penis. It was erect with throbbing desire and yearned to be kissed. He pursed his lips and planted an almost affectionate kiss on the small pulsating bud, groaning in a child-like reverence as he did so. The women sighed as they watched, their own loins burning now with desire for the brute. Janet moaned quietly and smiled at his gentleness as she waited with bated breath for the next tingling touch.

She did not have to wait long. His tongue twirled around the bud and licked softly along the swollen pink lips that surrounded it. He would be gentle.

"Ooooooohhhh," she moaned as he licked slowly along the bright crevice that glistened with her own lubricating moisture. Her moan was the only noise in the room. The others, watching, breathed shallow quiet breaths, lest they miss something.

Janet rolled her head from side to side slowly in rhythm with the tongue that prodded her to greater heights of ecstasy. Never had she thought such an ugly, brutal looking man could give her so much wild, uninhibited pleasure. Her eyes scanned the crowd, barely seeing them. She was alone as his lips and tongue nibbled hungrily down between her spread-eagled legs. The humiliation she had suffered could never be repaired, but the sexual excitement she experienced could never be replaced again either.

The tongue found its way to the soft flesh of her pussy and quickly darted inside. She felt herself jerk slightly toward him. His fingers held the soft moons of her buttocks apart while he toyed with her rubbery yielding anus. Please, don't, she begged silently. She knew that it would hurt too much. If he took her there, she would surely die.

She could feel his tongue searching the opening of her vagina, playing with the smooth, moist flesh at her entrance. It hardened slightly and probed further up into her passage, curling to the very depths of her being. Her eyes blinked furiously causing weird shadows to dot the ceiling and her desire suddenly knew no bounds. God, if he didn't fuck her soon she was going to explode from the sudden heat of her obscene passion.

Monroe, too, was ready when he heard her.

"Fuck me, darling. Please I beg you. Fuck me now, split me, but please FUCK ME!" Her screams shocked the whole room. None of the people were ready for it. The sudden outburst was like an order for all the couples to fall upon one another and begin thrusting swollen cocks into hot fiery cunts. Their attention had left the stage.

The giant, in his wild excitement, crawled up and kneeling between her legs poised the head of his massive prick at the throbbing entrance to her wet, open cunt. She relaxed her loins as best she could, hoping that the initial thrust would not hurt too much. Tears of sexual tension filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. He touched the hot, pulsating head against the tight pink opening and pushed slightly.

"Ugghhhh, God!" she moaned, anticipating the greater pain that was to follow.

Then, he ground his way up inside her. The pain was not as bad as she had expected. He was being as gentle as he could until his cock was buried halfway into her cunt. Then with a single thrust, which he could hold back no longer, he drove it the rest of the way into her.

"Aaaarrrgghhhh!" she screamed. "Oh, God it hurts!" as she felt his massive balls slam hard into the softness of her upturned buttocks.

She sobbed as he started to stroke her with long, smooth, piston-like movements. He knew that the worst was over for her as it had been for most women once he had stretched them wide, and in a moment, she knew it too. The tremendous pain turned to a sudden all consuming pleasure. Her ready, well lubricated passage had swallowed the whole of his cock. The fit was tight, but her flowing sexual liquids made it feel as though his cock was slicing through warm, melted butter as it slid lasciviously in and out between her open thighs.

Monroe knew he would be quick, though he was not as fast as some of those in their audience. He could hear men and women already groaning in orgasm as the balloon of pressure built up in his own testicles and suddenly burst.

"Uuuggghhhhnnnn," he cried, trying to stifle a scream.

His wildly ejaculating sperm burst into her like a hot, erupting geyser, spewing into and filling the whole of her belly until she thought surely she would burst from the hot, rampaging pressure. But, the white, thick liquid gushing from his jerking organ into her open vagina only drove her to greater and greater heights, her legs kicking and quivering helplessly out in the air on either side of his pounding hips.

The lewd, hungry tension deep inside her grew and grew and she knew it was only seconds away… seconds… seconds… and then it exploded! Her own wildly flowing juices swirled around deep inside her and mixed obscenely, lasciviously, with the hot, boiling sperm still spewing forth from the gigantic instrument buried deep up her churning crevice.

"I'm cumming, oh God, fuck harder, I'm cuuummmmming! Give it to me, fuck me! Ram it to me till I die! Aaaaaaaeeeeeeee! Oooooooh!"

Her head rolled helpless from side to side, the long blonde strands of her thrashing hair whipping into the mattress like a snapping bull whip, her eyes bulging wide, as though they were straining to leap from their sockets.

And as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The blubbering Monroe collapsed in a helpless heap on top of her and her own arms and legs fell limply out to the still shaking mattress beneath them.

They lay still for a moment, unable to move and their breath coming in short, recuperative gasps. And then a command from the side of the bed from a voice that she recognized dimly as Peter's.

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

And she felt the large hulking weight lift obediently from her, his huge, log-like cock slipping from her sperm filled vagina with a slight sucking noise.

And then another weight pressing her legs wide apart and falling heavily down on her sweating body.

"God, yes," she found herself mumbling incoherently as she pulled her thighs hard back against her breasts to receive the hardened cock of the lust-maddened Peter. "I have become one of them! I have become one of them! Ooooooooooh God, yessssss! Ram it deeper! Ram it deeper! Deeper, till I die!"

Content

Roger Grayson
The friendly couples

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE