("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2006. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- The Exhibitionist Wife by Anonymous (address withheld) Originally published by TheEditor *** A man is no longer "get it up" for his wife, so he finally decides to do something about it. (MF, couples, voy, orgy) *** Chapter 1 He had thought about it innumerable times in the last several months, trying to figure out what was happening to him when he was in bed with Evelyn, but short of going to a head-shrink and laying bare his whole life, while lying on a couch answering all kinds of personal, penetrating questions, Fred Holden wasn't able to come up with any substantial answers. Somehow the answers seemed to evade him, no matter how hard he concentrated on the problem. It just seemed to happen, and he couldn't do anything about it. He had tried a lot of different things, but the one thing he did know for sure was that he wasn't really impotent... And, as far as going to a head doctor, well forget it. He wasn't about to do that, yet. Seated in the spare bedroom of their apartment, which Fred used as a study, he was trying to run down a column of figures on his adding machine. He was moonlighting, which consisted of running monthly audits for several small, independent businesses, a couple of service stations, a neighborhood grocery store, a dentist and a pet shop. He worked damned hard at his regular job then spent two or three nights every week doing more of the same thing for these small outfits. He made a stupid mistake, transposing some numbers, and he cleared the machine, corrected the error and leaned back away from his desk in his swivel chair, listening to his portable radio, turned up to drown out the sounds of the television set in the living room. Evelyn was there listening and watching while some insipid singer-comedian went through his studiedly relaxed routines. He couldn't stand to watch that particular program, and he was glad that he could sequester himself in his office on the evenings when that one was aired. What he would like to do was get a little portable set; then he could watch what he liked, such as some of the detective series or a talk show or two. There were some other things he liked to watch, too, but they weren't broadcast on TV. Looking at his wristwatch, he saw that it was a little after ten-thirty. It was a little early, but maybe... just maybe... he'd be in luck tonight. A little smile of anticipation creased his round face, and he heaved his short, muscular frame out of his soft chair. Going to the south window, he gingerly drew back the drapes, and being careful to stay well back from the sill his eager eyes sought the window of the apartment below and slightly to the left. He was looking down directly on the bed, sheets and covers turned back for occupancy, but he was disappointed. The young couple weren't on the bed, yet. "Damn!" he growled to himself. He'd have to wait. His eyes shifted to the bathroom window. Sometimes they were as careless about keeping that window closed as they were the one in the bedroom. Well, I'm in luck! The light was on in the bathroom, and the window was open... but the only way he could see into his neighbor's bathroom was to be in his. Well, hell... he'd done that before, too. In his own bathroom, a second or two later, the door securely locked, Fred stepped into the bathtub, opened the window and standing on tiptoe looked down into the similar cubicle of the ground-floor apartment in the next building. "Christ!" He was disgusted. All he could see was the slimly muscular body of the young husband. The man was facing him and was just entering the shower, his dark chest hairs contrasting with white skin, and below, the extreme hairiness of his loins almost obscured the flaccid tube of his penis hanging down softly against the longer, slightly reddish scrotal sac with its large egg-shaped testicles swinging easily below. Fred wasn't interested in watching a naked man take a shower; although he had watched that same man make love to his wife, and he knew that the guy was virile, potent and had staying power that wouldn't quit. It was the guy's young wife he wanted to see. Damn! She's a luscious little piece! He wasn't even sure what her name was, but he thought their last name was Pearson. He was just about ready to step back out of the bathtub and go back to work when he saw her. She drifted into his view shrugging off a light dressing robe. Fred's brown eyes widened, the pupils flaring as he watched her hang the robe on the door, the soft, round orbs of her beautifully sculpted buttocks working as she kicked off her mules. God damn! How he'd love to get his hands on her, his fingers digging into those twin mounds of warm, smooth, alabaster-white flesh. He could almost feel it in the palms of his hands as he watched; then, she turned and was facing him. Her breasts, full and round, were placed high and wide- spaced on her chest, the nipples pouting upward and the pink areolas looked almost like round bull's-eyes. The rest of her was equally fetching. She had a nice face with regular features, good, even, white teeth, a sensuous mouth, and she was golden blonde all over. Fred's eyes zeroed in on the spun-gold mound of pubic hair framed by slightly wide but curvaceous hips, and he felt his penis, below, inside his pants, come to pulsingly vibrant life. He thrilled as blood pumped into it to be trapped there, the tumescent rod of his cock throbbing with the urgency of his sexual need. His scrotum worked, pulling his balls up tight and achingly toward his crotch. That's what confused him. He could get a hard erection watching his neighbor's wife undress in the bathroom... but when he got into bed with Evelyn, his own wife... Hell! Half the time I can't even get a hard-on! And, it wasn't that Evelyn was an ugly witch, either. She was every bit as desirable as that sweet, young thing next door. There was just something that turned him off when he tried to make it with his wife. It wasn't that she didn't like it. Evelyn was different from a lot of men's wives he knew about: Like the ones who always had a headache... or demanded some special favor or gift... or who cynically, even perhaps sadistically, limited their husband's sex demands by making themselves sexually unattractive. He thought about the too-fat wives he knew and the ones with caustic tongues, as well as the constant-complainers... But, hell, that's not Evelyn at all. She likes to fuck... maybe too much! Actually, Fred Holden was closer to an insight into what was happening between him and Evelyn than he'd ever be, but unfortunately he didn't recognize it, didn't pursue the idea far enough. In the apartment's bathroom next door, the lovely, young wife opened the shower door and stepped into it with her husband. "Damn it!" again. There was nothing to be seen for a while. Turning he stepped out of the bathtub and flushed the commode; then, he left the room and went back to his desk. The television set in the living room was still going, and he assumed that Evelyn would be there for another half-hour or more; of course, she knew better than to disturb him while he was working. He had made that damned clear to her, several months ago... right after they were married. Evelyn was Fred's second wife. The main reason he had taken on these accounting jobs that he did at home at night was so he could keep up his alimony payments. That God damned shrew is too smart to get married, again! All she thinks about is money... and she's getting it! Plenty! Fred felt he had been taken to the cleaners when he'd been hit with alimony payments of over seven- hundred dollars a month. It had taken several stormy sessions in Carol's lawyer's office before he had gotten it reduced to a more comfortable figure, five-hundred and fifty dollars per month. Then, when he'd married Evelyn there just wasn't enough money to go around, so he was moonlighting. He didn't want to spend his evenings grubbing for extra money, but there didn't seem to be any other way to meet expenses. The worst part of it was that prices kept right on going up, the inflation eating away at his salary to the point where he was thinking of taking on a couple more accounts. Christ! If I have to do that... pretty soon I'll be working four or five nights every week! Glumly, he sat back down at his desk, conscious of his still throbbing erection, straining against the front of his trousers, his hand going down to caress the turgid length of his cock and smiling with the secret knowledge that he sure as hell wasn't impotent as Evelyn regularly accused him of being. He toyed with an idea: What I ought to do is walk in there, turn that damned TV set off, haul her out of her chair, throw her down on the living room floor... and fuck hell out of her... so she knows she's really been had! Something kept him from carrying out the idea, though. Maybe it was the memory of how Carol had rebuffed him so many times, putting him off with vapid excuses... until one day he'd tried it. He manhandled her... forced her... raped her actually... fucking the ass off her, while she fought him like a wounded tigress. It had been a costly mistake. After a visit to her lawyer the next day, she insisted that he move out because she was divorcing him. He sat there at his desk for several minutes, trying to force himself back to the drudgery of those endless columns of figures, but after a few desultory attempts at reconciling some of the entries, he gave up as a lost cause. Reaching into his desk drawer he brought forth a small pair of binoculars, rose from his chair and went to the window, again. Things were going to start happening down there in his neighbor's bedroom. He saw that the young husband was stretched out to his full length on the white bed sheets, his cock hardening rapidly. Fred still couldn't see the man's lovely, blonde wife, yet. She was in another part of the bedroom, hidden from his view. Now, the husband was reaching down to grasp the shaft of his penis, holding it aloft. His mouth was moving, but Fred couldn't hear his words; he could only imagine that he was making a lewd invitation. She was there, then, crawling up on the bed beside him and rolling over on top of her husband. Fred saw her white, tapering thighs part then close again, and he knew that she had captured the stiffening shaft of her husband's prick, holding it tight between her clamped- together thighs. Using the binocular, he brought the scene into sharp focus, almost as clear and large as though he were there in the room with them. This is the best damned investment I've ever made! He watched their mouths meet and meld, and he imagined the sucking, nibbling and the intertwining of tongues in the deep, open-mouthed kiss; then, as he swept the glasses over the smooth whiteness of her back to the nipped in waist and the curving flare of her hips, he saw the slight undulations of her buttocks and knew that she was grinding her warmly moist furrow up and down the length of her husband's massively erect cock. Below, Fred felt the involuntary lurch of his own aching hard-on, his hand going into a pocket to shift the shaft of his turgid prick to a more comfortable position, and with gentle fingers he caressed the length of it, debating with himself whether he should or shouldn't. Several times lately, as he'd watched the copulating neighbors, he'd masturbated while he watched them. It gave him a measure of satisfaction, but he didn't really like to do it; it seemed such a waste to him, especially when he could have been getting all the fucking he could handle with his wife, Evelyn. It's damned strange that I can't get it up with her! Maybe... it's because she's so eager for it... always letting me know that she's hot for it... and coming after me! Christ! I don't know... she's so aggressive sometimes! Again, a truth was dogging him, but Fred didn't recognize it when he saw it. What he knew for sure was: My cock just lies there limp as hell! And, even if I do get it about half hard... it'll just curl up and die on me! And, now as he watched, his own excitement mounting, he saw the young wife slithering down over her husband's chest, her mouth kissing his flat belly. Lower and lower she moved, until she was kneeling between his wide-spread legs, her hands busy, one caressing his ball-filled scrotum, while the other held the thick length of his cock's shaft. Then, her smiling lips were coming down to the throbbing head of it as her tiny hand retracted the loose folds of the foreskin to reveal the reddish satin of her husband's cock's head. Damn! She's going to suck him, tonight! Fred's cock jerked involuntarily with erotic excitement against the confining cloth of his shorts and pants, and his hand went down there again to soothe and fondle. He was thinking about Evelyn, again. Maybe it would be a good idea to take his throbbing erection into the living room... and make it with her there. Without any rough stuff, though; just a nice, smooth seduction with the fucking taking place on the couch or the floor. Any place but the bedroom!... But, he couldn't tear himself away from the sex show going on in the apartment below. The young blonde had her husband's prick in her mouth, now, and Holden let his imagination roam, trying to envision what it would feel like to have that delicious tongue swirling around the head of his cock. It was hard to hold the binocular steady with one hand, and he stopped his unconscious stroking of his own penis, intent upon watching the other man's hard shaft as it was absorbed deeper into his wife's mouth. With both hands holding the glasses now, he watched the golden blonde head bean to bob slowly up and down the turgid length of it, the binocular giving him a close-up view of everything that was happening. He saw tiny, pink flanges of her inner lips pulled out, glistening with droplets of moisture, on the upstroke; then, they were stuffed back inside, her lips rolling inward as they nibbled their way back down to absorb almost all of her man's cock on each downward bob of her head. Her eyes were closed; her face serene, and the spun-gold of her hair was cascading down over her husband's hairy thighs. Then he noticed that the young man was flexing his hips, driving his massive cock even deeper up into his wife's ovalled lips. Now, she was taking all of it; her nose was nestling down solidly into the black hairiness of her husband's groin. Having watched the young couple enough during the last few weeks to know that the younger man's fully erect prick was something to reckon with, as he'd watched him pull it completely clear before ramming it back home again into his wife's undulantly receptive cunt, Fred was pretty sure how much cock she was taking deep into her mouth and throat. Hell's fire! She's got all of it in her mouth... and that husband of hers is hung with about eight inches of hard cock... at least! Fred Holden could barely contain his own mounting excitement, as he watched the young wife from next door, her head beginning now to move a little faster and her husband's hands groping down to either side of her head to guide her ovalled, sucking mouth, while at the same time his hips rose and fell in rhythmic counterpoint, as he thrust upward at her with desperate urgency. Damn! She's going to suck him off... all the way! As he watched the oral-genital act between the young, married couple, the idea began to grow, little by little, until he knew that he'd have to have that sweet, young thing, next door. Somehow, he would get to her... take her to bed, and... Christ! He could already feel that luscious flesh, her mouth working on him, his own tongue in that tight, little cunt... and finally his stiff, throbbing cock plumbing her, her clinging cuntal sheath slipping along the length of his thick prick. If I work it just right... God! Faster and faster her gold-crowned head moved over her husband's loins, her mouth alternately nibbling and sucking, her cheeks hollowing, her lips stretched in a wide oval around that monster shaft tightening and relaxing, and Fred knew that in a moment it would be over. Even more fervently he wished that it could be he, who would be cumming in his neighbor's wife's deliciously sucking mouth. With a final, upward, ramming thrust of his hips the young husband came. Fred saw him go rigid, and at the base of the man's hard cock there was a little stretch of it that could be seen clearly through the glasses. Fascinated, he watched as it expanded and contracted rhythmically, pumping his semen splashing into his wife's still sucking mouth; then he saw her throat, the muscles working as she swallowed, and unconsciously, Fred's hand went down to his own pulsing cock, his fingers fumbling with the zipper tab. In a moment he was hauling his hardened cock out of his fly, his hand gripping it tightly and moving it, and he was aware that the head of it was moist and hot. Suddenly, he stopped! Why the hell should I? Christ! I've got a hard-on that won't stop!... So, why don't I use it the right way? He'd do it! He'd go into the living room... and fuck his wife, Evelyn. Rip her clothes off... throw her down on the God damned rug... and fuck her half silly! Stuffing his turgid, demanding prick back into his pants but not bothering to zip his fly, Fred Holden put the binocular on the desk as he went by on his way to the living room, thinking: I should've done it before this... instead of letting her ridicule me... accusing me of not being a real man! Impotent? Damn! Just wait until she sees this! The living room was empty! The TV set was still going, but Evelyn was not there! "Evelyn?" No answer. Swiftly, Fred Holden searched their apartment. She wasn't in the bedroom or the bath; however, he saw her purse on the dresser, so he knew that she couldn't have gone far. Just to make sure he went downstairs and checked the carport. Both their cars were there. Well hey! She must be off visiting somewhere in the apartments! Fred was disappointed... and as he searched for his wife, of course, his erection began to subside, until in a few moments it was soft again. God damn! What a time for her to be running off somewhere! He was outside already; the Southern California evening was balmy and pleasant. Aimlessly, he began to walk among the buildings of the apartment complex, telling himself that he was looking for Evelyn... but he found himself looking into windows with open drapes, hoping to see her... or someone else, like a shapely housewife, fetchingly naked, dashing across the room, forgetting that her windows were open to the world. And then, he was prowling along between the buildings searching for open windows of bedrooms, which were situated almost consistently to the rear of the apartments. Christ! he thought once. Am I turning into a real peeper? The thought caromed around inside his skull. It gave him momentary pause, as he remembered that there were laws about peeping. It was one thing to watch from the privacy of his own apartment... but out there in the dark, prowling around? It's too damned risky! They'd put me in a cell... or send me to a shrink! It scared him to think about it, now. Some crazy guy might think I'm a burglar... or something, and take a shot at me! He remembered having read of just that happening. It had been in the morning newspaper, just three days ago. Christ! He began making his way back to his own apartment. Glancing at his wristwatch, when he gained the safety of their apartment, Fred saw that it was eleven-fifteen already. He snapped off the blaring TV set and made another hasty search of the rooms. Evelyn wasn't back yet. In his office-study, he covered the adding machine and closed the ledger he had been working on, angry with himself that he hadn't gotten more of the work done. Restlessly, he looked out the window, down toward that young couple's bedroom, hoping that perhaps they had gone on to other things, after that luscious, little blonde thing had sucked-off her husband. He'd never know now, because the drapes had been closed; however, the light was still on. He could see the glow filtering through. "Damn! Just my luck!" he growled to himself. I suppose I might as well take my shower and get ready to go to bed... Out of curiosity, he looked from their bedroom window. He'd never been able to see anything from there, before, but tonight as he looked down toward the ground floor apartment to the West, he gasped with surprise. Damn! Look at that! There on the bed were three people: Two women and a man! It s the Holloways! He knew them slightly, a nodding acquaintance... But, who the hell is that black-haired woman? He looked more closely. She was on her knees and elbows, her soft, white buttocks-cheeks raised, undulating back against the hard shaft of Vince Holloway's plunging cock that ground deep into her vagina, lined sparsely with pubic hair as jet-black as that of her head... and her face was nuzzled down between the smooth, tapering thighs... the sun-bronzed thighs of Vince's wife, Thelma. Pendulant, below her torso, he saw full, pear-shaped breasts that swung prettily to and fro as she bucked back against his neighbor, fucking back, for all she was worth. He knew that she would be tall and willowy, if she were standing, which was exactly the way Evelyn looked. In fact, he had the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach... that it was his wife, Evelyn, but he couldn't see her face, hidden as it was down between the other woman's legs. It didn't take any imagination to know what she was doing with her mouth down there. Christ! He had to know for sure whether or not it was Evelyn in the Holloway's bedroom being fucked from the back like an alley cat, while at the same time she was eating that Amazon, Thelma Holloway, who lay on her back, thighs spread obscenely and thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. He had to know! Stumblingly, Fred rushed into his office grabbed his field glasses and ran back into the bedroom, remembering to snap off the light, so that he would be in darkness, lessening the chance of anyone seeing him as he watched the scene below. God! He hoped that he was wrong!... But, God damn it... I ought to know my own wife's naked body... even without seeing her face! He was already raging inside, as he raised the binocular to his eyes and focused on the threesome, fucking in the bedroom of the Holloway's apartment. Her face was still hidden, but he swept his glasses over the black-haired woman's svelte figure. It was Evelyn all right! The God damned slut! He could clearly see Vince's cock, the shaft of it glistening dully with viscid moisture as it pounded in and out of Fred's wife's cunt. The son-of-a-bitch! Then, he was concentrating on Thelma's loins, hoping that she would shift the position of her legs, or that Evelyn would raise her head for a moment. As he watched, his anger boiling over in him at being cuckolded, Thelma raised her thighs and pulled her knees back against the fullness of her large, melon- like breasts. He could see the white suntan line of her bikini tops as well as the bottoms... and now he could see Evelyn's face in profile, her finely chiseled features plainly recognizable. Her tiny, pink tongue was shooting out licking, concentrating directly on the palpitating clitoris of the other woman. All he could do, for the time being, was watch helplessly. He had already thought about it, discarding the idea as quickly as it had come... thought about going over there, himself and either drag his wife home... or join them. He knew that the first would cause an uproar and possibly bring on unnecessary violence. The alternate option didn't appeal to him either; Thelma Holloway was a beautiful woman, perfectly proportioned... but big. She was nearly six feet tall. That's why Fred Holden thought of her as an Amazon. Damn! I don't know whether I'd be able to make it with her! That idea, too was abandoned. He'd just wait until Evelyn came home; then, he'd do something... Watching Vince slam his massive cock into Evelyn from behind, like a rutting boar, Fred's own prick came up, again, to painfully throbbing erection. Suddenly, he realized that he was watching the finale of the a trois sex act in the apartment below, for now the three were writhing in the throes of impending orgasm. Thelma's loins undulated up to Evelyn's mouth, where now Fred saw that her tongue was disappearing right into the pink cleft of the other woman's outsize cuntal opening. Holloway was a large man, also. He loomed above Evelyn, driving deep into her back-thrusting loins with pile- driver force, the speed of his strokes becoming ever faster and faster. It was Thelma, whose soaring orgasm burst over her first. She opened her mouth to scream as convulsive shudders swept over her body. Her eyes were blazed; her mouth gaping wide as she panted out her release. Holden couldn't actually hear her very plainly, but there was a muffled, high pitched sound. He was sure that it was her final scream of ecstatic passion. Then, as Holloway's wife slumped back, her legs straightening out to lie flat but still wide-spread, her chest heaving with deep pantings causing the full mounds of her breasts to rise and fall, Fred saw that his wife, Evelyn, was in full-throated screams of rapture. This time he heard it faintly, "GOD! FUCK ME! HARDER! OH FUCK, I'M CUMMINGGG ARRGGH!!!" The sound of his wife's voice slashed through him like a saber. He had heard that sound of passion so seldom, himself that hearing it caused by another man's pounding cock in her was the rawest hurt of all. The God damned bitch! She's no better than a cheap whore! What really cut to the quick was the realization that Evelyn really hadn't given him much of a chance to prove that he could satisfy her. Now, there was yet another gnawing suspicion: How long's she been out alleycatting? The dismaying thought that she may have been looking for her sexual kicks some other place, almost ever since they'd been married... five months, now, was like a kick in the groin for him. God damn her! I'll show her when she gets back here! I'll show her! I'LL SHOW HER! Barely able to watch, as his jealous rage dimmed his eyesight, he saw Vince Holloway jack hammering into Evelyn's clasping cunt, and he knew that the man was on the verge of cumming... Then, he drove into Fred's wife for the final, cunt- plumbing thrust and his big body went stiff, as he ground it hard and deep into her passion-trembling belly. He knew what the other man was feeling... that satisfying spurt of semen, hosing through the length of your aching cock, the final, sweet release from building tension... and in a way, he couldn't condemn Holloway for doing what he was doing to Evelyn; especially if she was the one who provoked it. At that point, he was sure in his own mind that it was Evelyn who was at fault. The bastard's only doing what I'd do too if some gal as sexy and as forward as Evelyn was throwing it right at me! He thought about that for a moment and changed his mind. No! Damn it! That's the trouble! Evelyn is too damned forward... it turns me off so that I can't get an erection! A glimmer of the truth he was looking for filtered through to him. She doesn't let me start things, chase her a little... seduce her... then mount her and duck her... like a man! Finally, he was sure of it. The knowledge was his! That's it, God damn it! That's it! Things are going to change! Chapter 2 It was five minutes to midnight when Fred Holden heard his wife come through the front door of their apartment. He was lying in bed waiting for her, the sheet pulled up over his nude body. Down between his legs, his cock was still hard and ready for action. He had done everything he could to make sure that it was in an excited state. After the scene in the Holloway's apartment had ended, he had dug out some pornographic magazines from the closet, perusing them closely and keeping his mind on purely erotic things. His hand, too, had helped, as he'd caressed the hardened shaft just enough to keep it hard. He was determined that Evelyn would know, beyond any shadow of a doubt that he was a virile man. He just had to show her who was the man in their family! Walking silently on bare feet, Evelyn came into their bedroom, hoping that her husband would be asleep. She had stayed longer at the Holloway's than she had intended, but she had rehearsed an alibi line that she was sure sounded plausible. As she opened the door, she saw that the dim, bedside light was still on, and that Fred was in bed already. He sat upright. "Where the hell have you been?" his voice fairly crackled. "Oh," she trilled lightly, "I didn't know you were awake, darling." "I asked you, where you've been, darling! "Well, if you must know... I was downstairs, at the Holloway's. Thelma was having some trouble with a needlepoint design she's doing... and I was helping her on..." Evelyn recited, telling just enough of the truth to make it plausible. "Very domestic!" Fred grated. "But you're lying, because I saw you!" "What's that supposed to mean?" Evelyn challenged, holding her ground. "Just this, God damn it!" He leaped from the bed and reached her in two steps. Grabbing his wife's arm in a vise-like grip, he forced her over to the bedroom window. "Look down there!" "Wh-Where? Evelyn was a little frightened, now. "Down to the right!" His other hand entangled in her long, black hair, forcing her to look in the direction he indicated. "Anything interesting in the Holloway's bedroom?" Horror-stricken, Evelyn found herself looking down at Thelma Holloway stretched out, nude, on the bed she had just occupied with them both only minutes before. The brown-haired woman's body lay supine, her legs spread out at an obscene angle, and she was talking to her husband, Vince, hidden from her view in another part of the bedroom. My God! He knows! Of course, what Thelma was saying couldn't be heard. "She must be talking about you!" Fred grunted. "Probably saying something about having you over again sometime... to help with the needlepoint work!" Twisting her head around to look at her husband, Evelyn wailed, "Let me go! You don't understand!" "Are you denying that you weren't down there... on that bed with both of them... getting fucked, like a bitch in heat... and eating her cunt... at the same time?" He made the question an accusation, a statement of irrefutable fact. At that moment, the large, rawboned figure of Vince Holloway loomed in front of the window in the apartment below, naked like his wife, Thelma, the long, thick stiffness of another growing erection plainly evident, as he reached for the pull cord and shut the drapes, effectively cutting off the view into their bedroom. Fred pulled his trembling, emotion-ridden wife away from the window and releasing his grip on her hair reached over and closed the curtains of their bedroom. Evelyn turned toward him, her face drained of color, and she was aware, for the first time, that her husband was naked. Spearing out from his muscular, hair-covered loins was the unmistakable evidence of arousal. His penis stood out hard, rampant and throbbing, and her eyes swept down to it, widening in surprise as she saw its fiery, blood-engorged head, pulsing with his heartbeat. Its thick length stood up at an acute angle, almost parallel to his abdomen. Looking back up at his face, she saw his lewd smirk of satisfaction. "What do you think about that... darling wife? And, how'd you like to be fucked by me... your husband, for a change?" Instantly, the fear in her eyes was replaced by a building interest, and she said a little prayer of thanksgiving. Thank God! He's not going to beat me! With a lewd, little smile of her own trembling across her sensuous lips, she asked, "Did it make you all hot... watching us, down there?" "Then, you admit it?" "It'd be hard not to," she told him levelly. "Please, let me go, Fred? You're hurting my arm!" He let her go, mumbling an automatic, "Sorry." She came close to him, her loins grinding into the hardened shaft of his cock. Feeling it hot and hard through the thin layers of her clothing, she raised her lips up to him to be kissed. He didn't put his arms around her; neither did he try to kiss her. "I thought you wanted to?" "Fuck you?" he growled. "Yes." "I do and I will!" Fred pushed his wife back away from him, his hand lashing out to grasp the low-cut neckline of her blouse. Evelyn gasped, "No!" She realized instantly his intent. "My way!" he grated, giving a tremendous yank that ripped her blouse all the way to her waist, the buttons flipping off and flying in all directions. Again, real terror knifed through her. She backed away from him, looking down at her ruined blouse, her eyes brimming with tears. "God, no, Fred! Please?" she whined. He's acting like a maniac! With grim determination Fred methodically ripped the rest of her thin blouse from her and tossed the shreds of it away. Her filmy bra was next; one hard pull at the point where the cups joined divided it into two useless parts, her freed breasts popping out to soar naked and white, the cool air of the room washing over their soft, warm and firmly pliant orbs. Then Fred pulled the straps of her bra from her arms and stood back to admire his handiwork. Her breasts stood out, moundingly, the satin-like skin of them glowing alabaster-white in the soft light of their bedroom, and he saw that her nipples were elongating prettily, the areolas wrinkling up around the bases of the rapidly hardening berry-like paps. His aim was to debase and humiliate his wife as much as possible, and he was off to a good start. One of his groping hands found the hardened shaft of his aching cock, and he grasped it hard, as with lewdly smiling eyes, he asked, "What do you think I'm going to do with this?" "Oh, God, darling... I-I don't know..." Evelyn cried miserably. "Rape me... I suppose..." God! I've got to do something! Any thing! Suddenly, she was on her knees before him, her hands reaching out, tremblingly toward his throbbing cock, her mouth working tremulously, as she murmured, "Let me..." Putting both hands on her shoulders, her husband pushed her back, until she was sitting on her heels. "Let you what? Suck me off?" he grunted, denying even to himself that he would have loved for her to do just that, but he had other plans... for her! "Not on your life! That'd be too easy!" Evelyn was confused and she felt his rebuff sharply. "I just wanted to give you..." she began. "You mean you wanted to side-track me!" he roared. "No, please, Fred... I just wanted to make everything all right... again!" "Listen, Bitch... you've made fun of me for the last time... because I couldn't get a hard-on... some of the time!" "I didn't mean to... do that..." "But, you did, God damn it! You thought I was impotent! Well, take a good look at my cock! Does that look like I can't do anything?" "It's just... beautiful!" she breathed, her hands going out, again, in an attempt to touch it, fondle it... and just maybe get to kiss it and suck it for a little while. "Don't touch it!" Fred Holden warned. "But, why, darling? I love you... and I want to..." Her hands dropped down into her lap, and she looked up at him imploringly. "Love me? Ha! That's a good one! Is that why you were down there with the Holloway's, acting like a cheap, little whore?" "No... please, believe me, I was doing it because I couldn't help myself. I needed it!" "Well, they say confession's good for the soul!" he remarked. "But, that doesn't mean, I love you less..." "I saw you being fucked!" "That's just sex... nothing else!" she sobbed. "You know I... can't do without it! I've got to have it regularly... just like eating and breathing..." Then, looking down at the floor, she went on, "And, I wasn't getting enough... from..." "Okay! I wasn't fucking you enough! That's what you're saying! I'll buy that... and I want to tell you something I figured out, just this evening!" "What's that?" his wife looked up eagerly into his face. "I found out that I can't get it up because you're too God damned eager for it!" "You mean I'm too aggressive?" "That's it! You don't let me start the action!" "Oh God, I didn't realize..." "So, from now on, I'm the one who's going to do the seducing... and the chasing... and I'm going to do the fucking... understand?" His hands were under her armpits lifting her to her feet. She hadn't answered, and he repeated his question, giving her a shake, "God damn it! Do you understand, Evelyn?" She understood him clearly. God! It was a horrible mistake! "Yes, darling... I-I do understand," she managed, a keening thrill going through her, as she tried to imagine what it would be like... with her playing the part of a demure, shyly retiring wife, waiting for her Lord and Master to seduce her, instead of the other way around. "I understand..." "Good! Because, I'm going to make you pay for tonight's little escapade!" "Are you going to... fuck me, now?" Evelyn asked, a tone of resignation in her voice. "I sure as hell am!" Now, she was eager and ready for it, but she didn't want to let him know that, in the light of her new- found knowledge. She wanted it... wanted her husband's massive prick pounding in and out of her cunt. A little smile of expectant anticipation lifted the corners of her lips, and she brushed tears away from her smoky, hazel eyes. "Then, take me, darling! Fuck me! Fuck me... any way you want to!" She began drifting sultrily toward their bed. "You bet I'll fuck you the way I want to!" he grated, a sadistic grin splitting his face, lewdly. "How would you like to be fucked in the ass?" Evelyn turned on him cat-like. "No!" she gasped. "God, no!" He's crazy! The shock was intended. Actually, he had toyed with the idea and discarded it. Later, maybe... Right then, his intent was different. Roughly, he pushed her down onto the bed, and as she sprawled backward, supine, her skirt riding up her lovely, tapered, white thighs, he saw the jet-black triangle of her pubic hair. She had not worn her panties home. He stared for a moment, new rage burning in him, as he remembered how Vince Holloway had been plunging his thick, lengthy cock's shaft in and out of her cunt, just minutes ago. Christ! His cum's still up inside her! He wasn't interested in fucking her in the cunt... just then. Anyway, he wasn't sure he could... with the other man's semen still pudding in her. Damn! It's kind of sickening! Then, with both hands he grabbed his wife's ankles and swung her around straight in the bed. Deliberately, he reached out and pulled her skirt down to cover up her loins. Dry-eyed, now, Evelyn watched him, and she was completely confused. What's he going to do? He doesn't want me... to use my mouth... and he's covering me up... down there... God! "What do you want me... to do, Fred, darling?" she queried. "Shall I take off the rest of my clothes?" Holden was crawling up on the bed now, his eyes locked onto the twin peaks of her softly mounding breasts; then, kneeling above her, he threw a leg over her body, straddling her waist. "No... you're stripped enough, already!" Avidly, his hands dug into the satin-smooth flesh of her white, full-mooned breasts, his fingers massaging them cruelly. Beneath him, Evelyn looked up at him beseechingly and moaned, "You're hurting me!" "You're damned lucky I'm not beating the hell out of you!" he spat down at-her. Her eyes widened. "You wouldn't!?" "I thought about it!" "What are you going to do to me?" "This!" Fred spat saliva into the palm of his hand and smeared it on the head of his blood-engorged cock. Reaching down, then, he took both her hands in his and placed them on either side of a quivering breast. "Hold your tits up, like that... and push them close together!" he instructed, leering down at her sadistically. She knew instantly what he intended and tried to pull her hands free of his strong-fingered grip. "Oh, God, Fred... that's no better than..." she began whiningly. "No better than jacking-off? You're right! I'm going to have my fun while you watch me... same as I watched you... being fucked by Vince Holloway!" "But, there's nothing in it for me!" "I know... and that's the way I want it!" Holding her hands in place to push up and close the space between her lovely, white breasts, he moved forward to thrust the head of his cock into the tight, fleshy channel they made. "Now, hold those luscious tits of yours just like that!" he ground out at her, taking his hands away to place them flat on the bed, supporting himself on muscular arms above her, as he began to saw the pulsing shaft of his cock in and out in a fucking motion. Evelyn was dismayed, but she obeyed him, pressing her full- mounded and now tingling breasts up to form the substitute sex channel between them. She felt the humiliation and debasement of it keenly... But, I suppose it's better than having my eyes blackened... or being sodomized, like he threatened. Of course, she had known that she was playing with dynamite... when she had agreed to make love to Vince, but she had not reckoned with Thelma Holloway. The statuesque blonde had insisted on making it a trio... had actually made most of the seductive overtures. Evelyn shivered with the memory of what it had been like with Thelma. God! Such delicious sensations! She tried to feel some guilt about what she had done, but it came out more like the child, who caught with his hands in the cookie jar, is more chagrined with being caught in the act than suffering guilt for stealing the goodies. I just had to do it.. because I really thought Fred couldn't do it often enough... to keep me satisfied! Had she searched deeper into herself, she may have discovered, perhaps, that no one man could satisfy her. There are women like that. Evelyn was probably one of them. Feeling the warmly throbbing shaft of her husband's prick sliding in and out between her breasts, she became aware of a tingling thrill coursing through the soft mounds of flesh, and unconsciously her hands began to knead them closer around the plunging shaft of his cock. It was a new and different sensation; one she had never before experienced. He wants me to feel put down... and I suppose that I deserve it! But, the humiliation he wanted her to feel; indeed, what she did feel for a few moments, was rapidly being dispelled, to be replaced with a glowing arousal. She could feel it spreading down through her belly, igniting a banked fire in her loins. God! I'm getting hot! Maybe she could... but it was too much to hope for. Looking up into her husband's face, she saw that he was totally involved, his face hanging slack, his eyes glazed with passion, and she knew that it would be over for him in just a few moments. Maybe later... I could work on him... get him hard, again, and get him to fuck me... for real... Straddling his wife's trembling torso and wantonly shoving his hard, demanding cock in and out of the soft tunnel of flesh between her luscious breasts, Fred Holden felt the tightening and relaxing around his throbbing length caused by her kneading hands on them. He knew that he was going to cum any second, now and that what he was doing was little better than a sophisticated masturbation; however, it was the only way he knew to humiliate and debase her. "I'm going to cum... in just a little while," he grunted down at her. "And I'm going to let it shoot all over you!" "All right darling, if that's what you want," Evelyn murmured. "Damn right that's what I want! I want you to feel dirty!" Then, he felt the searing burn of his semen as it began its hosing journey through the tube of his hardened prick. He was cumming! It spurted from the slitted tip of his cock to splash white and hot on her chest and in the hollow of her neck. "AAaagh!" he grunted. "There, Bitch! How do you like that... from your impotent husband?" What could she answer? There wasn't anything to say. He had done it... and there was only one thing she could do: Take a shower and clean herself up. There was that feeling of being half aroused, and she could do something about that... later. Panting for breath, Fred held himself in position above his wife, until she began to squirm beneath him in an attempt to free herself from his pinning body. "Let me up now," Evelyn whined pleadingly, "I've got to take a shower!" "Yeah, okay," he agreed, flopping over to his side, as she wriggled free and hopped off the bed, heading for the bathroom. He stopped her with a restraining hand. "And while you're at it... get yourself clean... inside and out!" She questioned him with her eyes. "Maybe we can both have some fun later," he promised. "God Fred, I was hoping you'd say that!" his wife smiled with relief. "And, much later on, we've got to do some serious talking!" Fred smiled meaningfully. "About me?" "About us!" He released her arm and giving her an affectionate slap on the buttocks, said, "Go ahead and get cleaned up... and I might even let you suck me for a little while!" Evelyn hurried, feeling a rising excitement glowing in her, secure in the knowledge that tonight she would have a real hot- blooded husband... for a change, and on reflection as she stepped into the shower, she was glad for that change. Chapter 3 "Now Susan, if you'll sort of slide down to the edge of the stool, then lean back on your elbows... That's it! Just fine, now. Hold it!" The man speaking was squatting on the floor, focusing his camera on her naked loins, and Susan Merrill following his directions to the letter, obediently did his bidding. "Now... just spread your legs, nice and wide. I want to get a couple of shots from this angle!" Slowly, she allowed her thighs to part, exposing the whole of her genital area to the stranger's eyes and the probing lens of his camera. "Like this?" Susan asked amiably. "Yeah, that's fine! Hold it just like that!" His camera clicked, and immediately he thumbed the mechanism to the next frame. "A little wider, now!" He came in closer, focusing his lens for a close-up, snapped the picture and said. "That's just great!" Standing up, then, he stepped back and looked at her nude figure critically. He was obviously a successful business man. Dressed impeccably, hair trim done by razor-cut, nails manicured to perfection, his hands soft and white, graying at the temples and his body a little flabby, he was probably well past fifty-five years of age. In his wallet he no doubt would be carrying pictures of two or three grandchildren, the oldest perhaps nine or ten years old, and at home there would be a past middle-age wife... yet he was here in this Rent-a-Model studio taking obscenely pornographic pictures of a lovely, blue-eyed, blonde woman, young enough to be one of his daughters. It was nearing the end of the thirty minute picture taking session, for which her client had paid twenty dollars, and Susan Merrill stood to her feet, reaching for a light wrapper she had shed when he had come into the small, intimate studio carrying his own camera bag. Impersonally, acting according to her instructions and functioning more like a sales clerk than a nude model, she said, "We can do the developing and printing here for you, Sir." She was shrugging into her cover-up garment, and he glanced with surprise at his elegant, gold wristwatch, seeing that barely a minute remained of his half-hour. A look of undisguised disappointment passed over his handsome features. "All right, I'll leave the film for processing... but look we still have about a minute, and I've got just two shots left, Miss? Couldn't I..." "Susan," she filled in for him. "I'm number one hundred fifteen... and I'm sorry, the time's up." "Do you have some other numbers to go along with your name... like a telephone number?" "I'm sorry Sir, that's against the rules. The only other numbers I can give you are: Thirty-eight, twenty- five, thirty-six!" She fielded his attempt to establish a liaison, easily, casually, and walking to the door, pushed the call-bell button signaling Linda Sloan at the front desk that she was finished; then with a friendly smile she went on, "You can leave your film with Miss Sloan as you go out." The message was clear. He had been told in a thoroughly professional way that his time was up. Turning to leave reluctantly, he asked as he swung the door open, "If I decide to come back, again, is it possible to make an appointment, so I'll be sure to get you..." "Yes, Sir, it is," she assured him. "Miss Sloan will issue you an identity number." "I see," he mused. "The customer's are protected, too!" "Yes, Sir, Miss Sloan made up the system, and she insists that everyone be anonymous." She took the doorknob on the inside and began closing the door. Linda Sloan also didn't like for her models and their customers to spend any extra time in conversation. Just then, Miss Sloan appeared in the hallway, meeting Susan's client as he came out the door. "I hope you've enjoyed your session with Susan, here at The Camera's Eye, Sir," she said, smoothly, escorting the gentleman along the hall toward the front office. "Oh yes, very much." Over her shoulder, Linda Sloan addressed Susan. "I have one more client for you, dear... then you can take your break." "All right, Miss Sloan." She closed the door and waited for yet another stranger to come in for the purpose of taking nude pictures of her. Invariably, it seemed, they would be older men taking a voyeur's delight in the loveliness of her body. Some would be shy, only wanting to look and take pictures, barely saying anything to her. Others only wanted to talk, forgetting to take any pictures at all... but there were others who made it clear that they were interested in her to the extent of making passes, fondling and caressing. Those men, of course, were asked to leave her alone. If they persisted... she asked them to leave. Beyond that, a secret signal would bring Linda Sloan and one of the male models to her room, and the customer would be escorted to the street. As she sat down on the mattress covered with a fake tiger's fur spread, Susan Merrill thought about the strange way she was making extra money. It was better than being a Library Clerk at the University. The work was easy: All she had to do was pose nude for the voyeuristic clients. For this she was paid six dollars and fifty cents for each half-hour session, and most days she was only on hand for four or five hours. She remembered how shocked her husband, Ron, had been when she had told him she had quit her job at the library to take this job at The Camera's Eye. "Do you mean to say," Ron had asked with troubled brown eyes, "that you're going to strip naked so these kinky guys can photograph you?" "That's right, darling... but it's strictly business. If the customers break the rules, out they go!" "Look but don't touch, is that it?" "Yes!" she answered. "Look, here's one of Miss Sloan's business cards." He took the card and read: THE CAMERA'S EYE, Rent-a- model, Camera furnished, Film processed and printed, The studio choice of discerning lensmen. "What happens if some guy tries to get funny with you?" "There are some men working as models, too... and they give them the heave-ho!" "Hell! It's kinkier than I thought, then, if she's got Muscle Beach boys there, too!" "I don't understand, Ron?" "Well, they must be there for the gay ones to take pictures of!" he explained. "Are there any Butch types come?" "You mean women... who?" "Yeah, you know, Lesbians?" "I don't know?" "Well, I wouldn't be surprised..." In the end, Susan had gone to work at The Camera's Eye, because she could earn more money there, it was necessary. If Ron were to finish up the work on his Doctorate, it was up to her to help him get it. Some of the grants in aid had been withdrawn from the University, and it was a hard decision for Ron and Susan to make. Her husband was already well into his course work, his Thesis subject selected and approved by The Graduate Committee, and he had begun the grueling research work. If he had to leave school, now it would be harder to come back, later, to finish up the requirements for the degree. Susan volunteered to drop out of her own studies to go to work, but the job in the University Library just didn't pay enough, making it necessary for Ron to take time from his studies to earn living money. That was when Susan heard about The Camera's Eye. Her photogenic, blonde beauty and her lovely figure got her the job immediately. It was a terribly frightened, nervous and apprehensive Susan Merrill, who took off all of her clothing for the first time... while a man, a total stranger, watched her with avid eyes, adjusted his camera, turned on the photo floodlights and began taking pictures of her naked loveliness. Some of the poses she had been asked to assume were, to say the least, obscene, but as time passed she became accustomed to being asked for certain poses. And, there was a certain excitement in it, too. She knew what some of the men were thinking. Their conversation, the words and gestures they used in getting her into position were highly descriptive... and erotic. "Now, Baby... I want you to put both hands down there... on either side of your cunt... and pull it apart for me!" Or, another might tell her, "Roll your nipples in your fingers to get them hard... then wet them with some saliva!" Yet another would order, "I want to get a shot of your chit... while it's all nice and hard!" Or: "Shove a couple of your fingers in your cant!" Once, after she had had a whole series of such lewd requests, especially one involving a huge dildo, a customer had brought along with him, she had complained to Linda Sloan, the owner, about it. "As long as the customer doesn't touch you," Linda explained, "I've said that they can pose you any way they want!" "But..." Susan didn't know exactly how to say it. She tried, "Some of them talk so filthy... and when they ask me to do certain things... it makes me..." "Makes you what?" Linda's jade-green eyes questioned. "Well, they're talking about sex and wanting me to do things to myself and..." "And, you get all aroused?" "Yes, that's it," Susan breathed. Linda Sloan smiled a secret, little smirk as she answered, "Most of the girls have reported things like that... but I suppose the only thing you can do is get used to it. It seems to be a part of the picture. Of course... if you want to quit... it's up to you. I've got a whole drawer full of applications, so there's no problem in getting a replacement for you." The meaning of Miss Sloan's dismissal of her complaint was very clear: Do what's asked... or quit! Susan decided not to quit, but she was also very sure that she'd never get used to being in a sexually, half- aroused state during her working hours. Then, as she sat there musing, the door to her studio opened and a short, stocky, gray-haired man walked in carrying a Polaroid color camera. Susan recognized him; the man had come to the Camera's Eye several times before this, and each time he had asked for Susan, number one hundred and fifteen. He also always rented one of the studio's cameras. "Hello, there, Susan Baby!" he smiled broadly. "I'm back again!" "Hello," Susan grinned shyly, not bothering to get up. She knew that this man wanted to take most of his pictures of her while she was lying down. Loosening the belt of her robe she began to pull it off. "What kind of poses do you want, today?" From a brown, paper bag he removed several thin, silk scarves, light and diaphanous. "Here," he said, holding up one of the wisps of see-through material, "I'd like to get some shots of you with these!" "I'm really not much of a Salome," Susan remarked, kiddingly. Her wrapper was off, now, revealing her curvaceous body. "You'll do, until I find a better one," the customer told her, his hungry eyes sweeping over her luscious, naked body. Linda drove their little, foreign car home from her afternoon's nude modeling stint at The Camera's Eye, feeling more than usual that state of being half sexually aroused. Having strange men's eyes devour her curvaceously nude body and knowing that later they would be enjoying seeing her, again, as they perused the prints or slides, perhaps showing them gloatingly to yet other strangers, their friends and associates, gave her a giddy feeling of awe and wonder that her body could excite men so very much; for excite them she did. She saw it in their eyes... and in the throbbing bulges inside their pants, which for the most part they tried to conceal out of embarrassment or nervousness. Of course, she was safe from any molestation, but the idea had crossed her mind as to what could happen... if their were no restraints, the rules set down by Miss Sloan set aside, even for a little while. Ugh! It didn't take much imagination to know that the wishful desire in those men's eyes would be translated into action, almost instantly. Her working hours as a Rent-a-Model were in the afternoon, designed to catch the business men on their long lunch hour. She was usually finished by five- thirty or six, so she could get home to cook a hot, nutritious dinner for Ron. When she had taken the job at The Camera's Eye, Ron had insisted that she not work any evening hours. It was just as well, too. There was a dangerous possibility that she might be followed home from work. Miss Sloan had agreed that it could happen, so Susan felt a little more secure driving home in the late afternoon and early evening hours. Even so, she had gotten into the habit of checking her rear-view mirror constantly and taking roundabout routes home. Actually, it was just a short drive up Wilshire Boulevard from the studio to their apartment near the University. She found that Ron had already gone off to the library for the evening. The remains of his fast soup and sandwich dinner were on the kitchen table. An unreasonable annoyance overwhelmed her. Linda had asked her to take one extra client, this afternoon, and it had made her more than an half-hour late. Ron's fixing his own meal and leaving before she arrived home made her feel lonely and more than a little chagrined that she couldn't be there to do the wifely thing. Lately, it seemed, they were seeing less and less of each other... and it had been four nights, now... since Ron had made love to her. That bothered her. Ron was only twenty-five... almost twenty-six years old, and he didn't seem to have the sex drive that went along with his youth. He told her it was just temporary. His exacting research work was draining him of all his energies. It's got to be tonight! She told herself over and over that it had to be so, hoping against hope that Ron wouldn't plead exhaustion, again, God, I couldn't stand to wait another night! A startling thought raced into her brain like a bombshell: Could Ron be... seeing another woman? It might be a reason for his tiredness... and lack of interest in me! She rejected the preposterous idea almost instantly. No! That couldn't be it! Ron and I are really in love with each other... and he wouldn't do that... any more than I would! God! I can't imagine having another man doing things to me! She ached for him. All those lewd poses during the afternoon had been working in her, feeding on her mind and body. Her breasts and nipples tingled from exciting them to erection, and at least three of her clients had wanted to take close-ups of her loins, insisting that she expose her genitals completely. It's a disgusting way to make a living for us... but the job pays more than any other I could get! Quickly, she prepared her own evening meal, just a snack since she dared not put on any extra weight. She counted her calorie intake carefully, ever since she had been working at The Camera's Eye. Linda Sloan had made it clear that she didn't want any sloppy, overweight women working for her. It made sense, too. If anything, Susan's figure was even more alluring than it was before she became one of Linda's Rent-a-models. After she had eaten, done the necessary household chores, she decided to shampoo her hair. Afterward, having dried her long, golden-blonde hair, she brushed it until it shone like burnished gold; then as time dragged, waiting for her husband to come home, she showered and put on a filmy nightgown. Propped up in bed with a popular novel, she read to pass away the time. The book was explicitly frank about sex, as many novels are these days, and she found herself reading the same words she heard each day at work. She, herself, never used those words; however, she recognized that there was little she could do to avoid hearing them. I wish Ron wasn't so vulgar... sometimes! But then, she supposed most men were like that, and she'd just have to put up with it. She had already been through the stage of being shocked by them; now, she just tolerated that vocabulary. It was a quarter past ten when Ron came home. He found his wife already in bed, and he dutifully and somewhat wearily gave her a quick peck of a kiss, disappearing quickly into the bathroom after a grunted, "Hi, darling." Instinctively, Susan knew his mood, his bone-tired look, and she was sure that there was no hope for the sexual congress she wanted... and needed. But, there's got to be some way I can get him interested enough to... do it to me... tonight! He didn't even notice me... see that I had on my nicest nightgown. She looked down to assure herself that the contours of her lovely breasts were barely hidden by the bodice of the filmy, see-through garment. The irony of the situation wasn't entirely wasted on her, as she ruefully thought about the several strange men, who had viewed her naked body, their emotions charged with an unattainable desire for her, while she had posed for them, today, yet her own husband had barely given her a second glance. She couldn't find it in her to laugh. It was too tragic, and she was desperate. What can I do? Would she have to seduce her own husband? Maybe that's it! I've got to make him want me... even if he thinks he's too tired to do it! She had never been that forward. It had always been enough for her to be there, in bed, clean, perfumed... waiting; now, things had changed. Maybe she could change, too! Her mind raced planning what she would do... would have to do, if she were to get the tenderness of his kisses and the hardness of his penis filling her. God! I'll have to do it! Tossing back the sheet, Susan pulled her nightgown up so that the hem was barely covering her loins, revealing the most of her softly tapered thighs; then, she arranged the front of it to reveal the deep cleft of the valley between her full-orbed breasts. She'd be ready for him, looking her most desirable, when he had finished his shower. Abruptly, she heard the sound of the water stop, and she knew it would be only a few moments until Ron would be coming to bed. Her heart pounded with the excitement of what she was planning to do... if he didn't show a proper interest in her. Glowing deep in her belly, she felt the banked fires of her desire begin to flame into searing life, and above her breasts tingled as her nipples grew to erect vibrancy. I'm getting hot... just thinking about it! Unconsciously, her tiny, cool hands cupped the pliant flesh of her mounding breasts, her palms feeling the hard buds of her nipples spiking out into them. Ron came out of the bathroom, his longish, brown hair tousled and damp. He was dressed in his pajamas, and wordlessly, he looked at his wife, lying uncovered, her nightgown pulled up seductively... invitingly, her hands still cupping her own breasts. His eyes were bleary from long hours of reading, and he was exhausted physically. He knew that the display of her legs and breasts were intended for him... But God! A man's got to feel like it... before he can really do anything! He switched off the light. He could still see her in the glow of the bedside lamp, her eyes deep pools of troubled blue, "Ron... aren't you even a little bit interested... tonight?" she murmured. "I'm pretty damned tired, darling," he told her. "Could you get interested... if I helped?" "Hell! If I can't get it up... there's not much action, and the way I feel right now... I couldn't even get interested in Raquel Welch!" He padded toward the bed and sat down on his side, reaching for a cigarette to light. "Ron darling, I just want you to... to be interested in me, right now, tonight!" Steadfastly, he refused to look at her as he sucked smoke into his lungs and exhaled. "Why don't you just go to sleep and forget about it, tonight..." he suggested, then promised, "maybe tomorrow night! I've got a lighter schedule, tomorrow, and I'll feel more rested." With a boldness born of her desperate need, Susan scrambled felinely to her knees and whipped her nightgown off over her head. Tossing the wisp of a garment carelessly aside, she knee-walked across the bed, her arms going around Ron's shoulders. "Oh Ron, I can't wait!" she cried shamelessly, nuzzling into the back of his neck. "Don't you understand?" "And, don't you understand? I'm tired and I want to get some sleep!" He tried to remove her arms, but now she was slipping her hand inside his pajama tops and running her palm down over the hairiness of his chest. He stayed her hand with his own, growling, "Stop it, Susan! It's no use!" He stood to his feet, breaking her embrace, and as he turned, saw that she was completely naked. Blushing from his rebuff, but determined that he would be aroused, she said, "Ron darling, I've never had to ask you... before, but I am now... Will you... make love to me... please?" It shamed her to ask him... but she had to do it. Her husband picked up her filmy nightgown and handed it to her wordlessly, a feeling of shame at his own temporary inadequacy flooding through him. God damn it! I can't help it! For the last three nights I've tried... but my cock just lies there limp! Taken aback with surprise and disappointment, Susan took her nightgown from him. "Do you mean you won't even try to do it?" she asked, holding back scalding tears. His eyes swept over all of the loveliness of her, and he knew he should feel something for her. Ordinarily, before the last several weeks of harder, more exacting work, his penis would have been at full erection, standing jackstaff straight and hard... But, now he was only aware of a deep exhaustion that seemed to drain him. "No, darling," he murmured. "It's no use... I can't do anything!" It was a hard confession to make. He lay down on his side of the bed and rolled to his side, facing away from her. "Let's try to get some sleep... okay?" Susan told herself that she wouldn't cry. There has to be a way! Oh, God! I've just got to.. have it, tonight! She lay down beside him, curling her body in close to his, spoon-fashion, trying to understand what it must be like... to be a man, dependent upon sexual performance or non-performance by the presence or absence of an erection. He must feel horrible about it! "I love you, darling," she whispered into his ear, as her hand slid up over his hip and down into the waistband of his pajamas. She had never been this bold before, but of course, she had never had to be. Her tiny, hand rummaged for a moment or two in the hairiness of his abdomen before moving on down to grasp the limp length of his penis. With gentle sensuousness she caressed it, working the foreskin back and her fingers rubbing the cool head of it all around. "Sue honey," she heard him choke, "give it up... and go to sleep!" Nothing was happening. His penis lay soft in her hand... and at this point she didn't have enough sophisticated knowledge about sex to know that... if she used the right technique, her husband's cock would have been standing at erect attention within moments... regardless of his pleadings of fatigue. She was just on the verge of giving up, when an idea floated into her mind. That's it! Why didn't I think of it before! Quickly, she was on her knees again and she was tugging at him, forcing her husband to turn over on his back. "Ron, Ron," she urged. "Look at me! I want to show you some of the crazy, sexy things that a lot of the men are asking me to do... so they can take pictures of me doing them." He was on his back then, struggling to sit up. "I thought you were just posing nude... not making with obscenity... and porn!" "Do you really think those lecherous old men... just take art pictures?" she countered. A sudden jealousy seized him. Damn! Is there anything else going on? He was sitting up now, gripping her by the shoulders and feeling the soft, satiny flesh cringe under his fingers. "What else are you doing down there? I thought they couldn't touch you?" Secretly, she was overjoyed; at least, her husband was jealous. And, maybe that's a good sign! "Then, what the hell are you talking about?" "The sexy things... they've been asking me to do!" "So?" "I thought you'd like to know..." She made her voice low and throaty. "You know damned well I do!" Ron growled, his quick anger beginning to subside somewhat as the flashing idea that his wife might have been going the whole way toward posing for hard-core pornography... with a man was dispelled. Then, he added, "Like what?" "Let me go and I'll show you. You do want me to show you, don't you, darling?" Releasing her, her husband leaned back against the headboard. "Yeah, I'd like to see it, because I'm thinking maybe you shouldn't be working in a joint like that!" "It's not a joint, Ron! You can't compare it to a topless- bottomless beer bar. Those are real joints!" she defended. "I suppose," he agreed, "but let's get on with it, now!" His curiosity was piqued. He had to know what had been going on in those little, individual and intimate studios at The Camera's Eye. A pounding excitement made her a little nervous, but she was determined to carry out her little stratagem. She'd do almost anything, now, to arouse her husband, because there was a roaring inferno of desire consuming her loins. She had to get him ready! "Well?" he urged. "One thing they like for me to do is... wet my lips and let my tongue stick out a little with my mouth open... and pretend that I'm cumming..." She did it, illustrating the pose. "That's not so bad." Then, I put saliva on my nipples and roll them between my fingers... like this!" It wasn't necessary as her nipples already coned out into erect sensitiveness. "They like me to cup my breasts in my hands and point them right at the camera, too." Her hands caressed the soft fullness of her breasts, offering them to her husband. "There's one thing about it, though. All these things really do make me all hot and..." "I should think they would," Ron agreed, as his eyes watched his wife's tiny hands massaging the pliant flesh of her own breasts. Suddenly, he felt it. There was a crawling, lifting sensation down there between his legs as his scrotum tightened, and a growing sensation of a tentative erection caused his penis to bulge up against the material of his pajamas. It surprised him. I'll be damned! My cock's getting hard! Unconsciously, his hand went down to it and covered it. Susan saw the involuntary lurch of his penis inside his pajama bottoms and his hand go down to it caressingly. Then, she knew that there was hope for her... for tonight. She was going on now, explaining, "And, that's why I'm being this way... begging you... doing all these crazy things, so you'll... want to make love to me!" "I didn't know darling," he stumbled. "B-but I'm... really pretty tired..." He's trying to deny that he's working up some interest. I saw it... starting to get hard! She knew then that she'd have to go ahead with more of her lewd display. "Don't I do anything... for you?" she queried dismally. "Well," he hedged. "Not really... yet." "And, here's one of the things those old men really like!" Susan breathed. She lay back, propping herself on her elbows, as she spread her legs wide to expose the whole of her luscious, coral-hued furrow to his surprised and rapidly hungering gaze. Her hands slid down over her hips to either side of her vaginal opening, and with sensuous fingers slowly parted the cuntal lips, edged sparsely with the curling golden down of her pubic hair. "And, then," she continued breathlessly, "while they come in to get a close-up... they like for me to rub my clitoris... until it's all throbbing and hard... like this..." Sensuously, her fingers rubbed and caressed the hardened bud of her clitoris, making it swell pulsingly even more as Ron's eyes locked onto the lewd spectacle of his lovely wife fingering herself to arousal. "Damn!" he gasped. "You'll have to quit!" "I can't darling... We need the money... remember?" "But... this is obscene!" "It gets them all hot, too!" she murmured. "I can see the bulges in their pants that they try to hide from me... just like you're doing right now! Then, cat-like, his wife was back up on her knees, and she was tugging at the waistband of his pajamas, pulling them down to expose the rapidly hardening shaft of his massive cock. Ron didn't object; he helped her to get them off, then quickly removed his tops, as she pulled his bottoms down over his hairy legs. Before he could make a move toward her, her lithe, vibrantly aroused body was on top of him, her legs spreading then clamping together again, as she trapped the hard shaft of his prick between her thighs and forced it to lie log-like in the moist furrow of her heated cunt. "There!" she exulted. "I knew you really weren't too tired!" Her lips came down to his, moist and open, wanting his kiss. Her husband's strong arms went around her, crushing her to his chest and mashing the soft orbs of her breasts, as his tongue lashed into her mouth to probe and taste. "God!" she heard him murmur into her mouth, as his hips flexed upward against her. Susan couldn't wait any longer. She was too ready... too far gone, and she had waited far too long, already. Writhing from his arms, she straddled his hips, her tiny hand going down to grasp the thick length of his cock's shaft, and with unerring accuracy guided it to the moist warmth of her hungry cuntal mouth. Then, eyes already glazing with her built-up passion, she dropped her weight down on him, taking all of her husband's more than adequate cock deep within her vaginal sheath in one movement, his rock-hard cock- flesh ramming up into her vaginal passage to fill her completely and stretching her voracious opening cruelly with the force of her urgent absorption of him. She felt the blood-engorged head of his prick flick painfully past the neck of her womb, and she groaned aloud. "OOooooohhh!" "AAaaauggh!" Ron yelped. "Take it easy!" The unexpected pain she had caused him was replaced almost immediately with a burning desire for her, a desire he had thought impossible just moments before, when his fatigue had ousted all thoughts of sexual pleasure from his mind. Ron moaned aloud again, as he flexed his hips upward against her to drive the pulsing shaft of his cock farther up into her clinging cuntal sheath, feeling the silky softness of her moist passage and reveling in the feel of her as her pussy enveloped him with throbbing, searingly hot flesh, while above him, poised on hands and knees her body began to squirm and writhe uncontrollably. "Oh, God... Ron, darling! It feels soooooo good... so hard and nice... up inside me!" she cooed, her voice choking throatily. A strange wildness was in her then, as she began to move above him with an uninhibited abandon so unlike her usual self, her hips rotating around and around, while at the same time she rocked back against him to drive her demanding cunt up and down the rock-hardness of her husband's cock, absorbing all of his length and breadth deep up into the velvety softness of her with each plunging stroke. The reversal of roles didn't bother her. She was much too interested in driving herself toward her already imminent orgasm. The freedom to move, to determine her own tempo, to fuck herself back against her husband's massive cock was an exhilarating feeling. It was almost as though she were raping him... if such is possible for a woman to do, for she was single-minded in what she was doing. She had to cum and soon! Oh, God! The waiting is Over! Thank God! "Oh, Ron, darling, I love you!" she moaned. Like a bareback rider riding a bucking horse at a rodeo, Susan rode and fucked her husband her naked buttocks writhing and pounding against him, rising and falling undulantly, her breasts dancing rhythmically down against the hairiness of his chest, the nipples spiking into his flesh and her soft belly rubbing against his abdominal and pubic hair, as she leaned forward and down to take even more of him deeply up into her hotly absorbing cunt. Her assault had been so fast and furious that Ron could only hold himself rigid, now, allowing her to move on him, fucking him... fucking herself, as her moist, heated cuntal passage slid up and down his hardened, throbbing cock, completely out of control. He couldn't match her wild beat, so he merely raised his hips higher, offering her all of his length for her pleasure... and his! Christ! She's fucking... like a mink! Somehow, he couldn't object to it... even though he was in a completely unaccustomed position, on the bottom. Hell! The way she's going after it... I'll be cumming, in just a little while, too! The wild, uncontrolled pumping of her hips told him that his wife was almost ready to cum. With her breath rasping pantingly in her lungs, Susan rode her mount down a wild trail of sensation-packed wonderment, until suddenly, she knew that the trail had to end... in her climax. Her ecstatic rapture knew no bounds as she spurred greedily toward that moment of pure joy that had been withheld from her for so many nights. Ron Merrill, beneath his wife, had finally found the countering rhythm of her headlong ride on his stiffened cock and rose to meet her churning loins down against him with forceful, upward thrusts of his own. Deep into her belly he drove his massively hardened cock, burying it farther up inside her clasping cunt than he had ever before, as she spread her knees wide on either side of his hips to absorb all of it to the last smallest fraction of an inch. Suddenly, lightnings were flashing in her brain as the whole of her pent-up being was brought quiveringly to the brink of her release. Volcanic eruptions were there in her belly waiting to be exploded, shooting forth its molten metal to every part of her salaciously aroused body... but she couldn't cum yet. "Oh, My God! I'm almost ready to cum!" "Come on, darling! Cum! Cum! CUM!" Ron encouraged, plunging upward into the moist smoothness of her demanding cuntal sheath. "I can't... cum... yet! Oh, God! I can't cum!" she whined. Then, with a desperate, final cunt-ramming motion, she forced his hard shaft deep, deep up into her. She felt it painfully nudging into the far back wall of her vagina... and she was there! God! She came! "AAAGGGHHH!!" she screamed. "I'M CUMMINGGGG! NOW! OHGOD OHGOD!!" Eyes rolling sightlessly and uncontrollably, her face distorted with the intensity of her rapturous release, Susan folded at the hips and collapsed on top of her husband, spent both physically and emotionally. "Oh, OOOooohhh, that was beautiful, darling," she mumbled. "Just out of this world!" But Ron, now, was fully aroused, and he hadn't cum with her. It was his turn now! Several times he thrust up at her, but it wouldn't work. He could feel the clasping of her cunt's walls around the shaft of his aching cock; her dead weight and unmoving body wouldn't allow of a satisfactory copulation for him. "Christ! I've got to cum!" he grated. Clasping her tightly to him, he rolled over until she was supine, her relaxed body lying under him. As he looked down at her, he saw that her eyes were closed, her face serene and happy. Then, levering himself up over her on sturdy arms, his throbbing cock still in her, he began to fuck in and out of her moist, silky vaginal tunnel. Her legs flopped down flat on the bed, making an awkward angle for his slamming prick. He had to have her in a better position. Reaching down, as he leaned back, he pulled her legs up by the knees, then as he moved forward, over her again, he draped them up over his shoulders. That's better! Pressing her thighs back, until they were mashing down tight against her full-mounded breasts, Ron began pistoning in and out of her with a feral wildness he never could have imagined having just a few short minutes ago. Susan's eyes opened and she looked up into her husband's lustful face, his eyes blazing with his desire as he pounded in and out of her. Then, she felt it; the unmistakable feeling of new arousal flooded through her. God! Could I cum... again? Yes! She could! She knew she could! And, then, her arousal was complete, again. Her hips gyrated beneath her husband's jack hammering cock as delicious sensations flooded through her for the second time within moments. Ron felt it begin for him. The searing burn of his pent-up sperm, as it beat against its fleshy dam, somewhere back there at the root of his cock, told him that he was going to cum... soon. He redoubled his cunt-plumbing efforts, plunging deep into his wife's pussy like a maniac... and suddenly, he was spewing his semen through the length of his prick to spurt from its slitted tip deep up inside the warm moistness of her vaginal passage. He grunted with animal satisfaction and sprawled on top of her, enjoying completely the feeling of ultimate joy in his spurting cock. "AAAaaaagggh!" But, his wife, Susan, straining under him to cum for a second time was dismayed, as he collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the mattress. Desperately, she ground her vibrantly trembling cunt up at his softening cock, moaning with her apprehension. Oh, God! I've got to... cum... again! With almost superhuman strength, then, she thrust her loins up at him... and she came! "AAAAAaaaaauuuuugggghhh!" In the silence afterward there was only the sound of labored breathing, until Susan stirred beneath her husband and murmured in wonder, "I came... twice, darling! I came two times in a row!" "Yeah," he whispered. "You practically exploded!" "I was really hot... all afternoon!" "Because of those crazy poses?" "Yes, that's what I was trying to tell you... remember?" "We'll have to do something about that." "What do you suggest, short of my quitting the job?" "Well Honey, it looks like I'm going to be getting a work-out pretty often doesn't it?" "Yes, if you're going to keep me satisfied!" "I'll have to get more rest then..." He rolled to his side and looked at her profile. Damn! I'll have to do something different! "Maybe you could ease up... maybe drop one of your courses..." Susan suggested. "Yeah... maybe that's what I'll have to do. I'll talk to the Graduate Dean tomorrow!" His eyes closed serenely, the fatigue and his deep satisfaction claiming him in blessed sleep. Happily, Susan watched him. She was overjoyed that they had been able to work it out so easily. God! It would have been so easy for me... to do something crazy... like accepting one of those old men's lewd propositions! Chapter 4 Ron Merrill left the Graduate Dean's office feeling a sharp disappointment. The portly Dean, his hands folded serenely over his ample paunch, had steadfastly refused to allow Ron to drop even one of his grueling courses. "After all, Mr. Merrill, the requirements have been laid down, and any deviation from your planned work may delay you for an entire academic year." "But, it's important to me," Ron argued. "I just don't have enough time for myself." "Ah, yes, but I suppose that's one of the sacrifices one must make." It was meaningless platitude. "It could cost my marriage!" Ron blurted. "Hmmm, I see," the Dean polished his glasses before going on, "Well, of course, marriage counseling is a little out of my line... but I'm sure that any reasonable woman would make the adjustments... and..." "We don't need a marriage counselor... just some time that I can call my own!" Ron told him levelly. "That's why I want to drop a couple of courses, so I can spend a little more time with Susan!" "I'm sure you understand the consequences if you don't follow the outlined course study. None of your courses can be waived, and I might point out that dropping courses could very well result in your dropping out of the Doctoral program altogether. That could be disastrous for your future... and I might add that I feel you do have a brilliant academic future ahead of you. I would hate to see that future destroyed for you!" "But what about right now?" "Well, Mr. Merrill, in the long run, the decision must be yours. I could very well sign your petition for release from those courses, but I would feel strongly about it. I would recommend that you continue, just as you are!" There was no shaking the man from his position, and Ron didn't want to jeopardize his attainment of his Doctor of Philosophy degree. He had no choice but to keep up the grind... perhaps ease off a little, but there were still those exacting, time-consuming courses that he had to have completed by the end of the school year. Hell! The damned University is nothing but a factory... and people like me are its product... coming out all polished and ready for jobs that might not even exist by the time I get that damned degree! He wondered whether it was worthwhile, as he reviewed the situation in his mind. His conclusion was in favor of getting the Doctorate, now. If I do have to drop out... I may never be able to get back to it, again!... And, Susan and I will just have to work something out! She's right, of course... that she couldn't make as much money anywhere else as she does at that Rent-a- model studio! We'll find some solution to the problem! * * * Ron's disappointment at not being able to reduce the grueling pace of his studies, if he were to attain his degree according to schedule was nothing compared to the horns of the emotional dilemma upon which Susan struggled. "Don't you understand, darling," Ron tried to explain, "if I drop those courses, it'll extend everything for at least another year?" Susan shared her husband's ambition. That's why she was so willing to help him... but if she were to help by continuing her lewd posing at The Camera's Eye, there would always be the problem of her heightened sexual needs that Ron wouldn't be able to satisfy because of lack of time and drained energies. It was also certain that Ron couldn't remain in school if she didn't work at something. Clerking in a library certainly wouldn't make enough to support them. They both knew that, so Susan would have to keep working as a Rent-a-model. The problem just seemed to go in circles, always coming back to the same things, over and over. "Okay Ron, I understand and I'll try not to be too demanding." Oh, it's so mixed up... so different from when we were first married... and he scared me half to death... wanting to do it all the time! I was sure then that he was some kind of a sex maniac! Now, I'm the one who's worked up all the time... and can't get enough of it! She wished that there was something else that she could do, that she had some other marketable skill she could exploit, such as being a secretary or sales clerk, but it was useless even to think about it. Her typing was horrible. She didn't know shorthand or filing, and she was terrified of selling things to people in a store. Then, a few nights later it happened. Susan discovered a partial answer. Ron had arrived home dead tired, as usual. He tumbled into bed and slept so soundly that she knew she would never be able to awaken him. Disconsolately, she began her own preparations for bed, her body crying for a sexual release. No matter how hard she tried to ignore what the voyeuristic men wielding cameras in the studio said or asked her to do, there was still that sexiness there. It was in their eyes, the things they said and in the bulging erection in their pants. She trod a dangerous line, knowing that one slip, like giving one of them her address or telephone number, could result in something she didn't want... an affair with another man. Yet, how easy it would have been. She avoided the temptation like the plague. God! I couldn't do that! I just couldn't! She was in the shower soaping herself, her hands running in unconscious sensuousness over her body, cupping and massaging her sensitive, tingling breasts, the nipples coming up hard in the palms of her hands and the glowing sensations seeming to spread and permeate her whole body to concentrate themselves in her loins.. And there's nothing I can do! Or was there? Today, the next to the last man, who had posed hers took out of his attaché case a carefully wrapped object. "Do you know what's in here, Susan?" he asked, his eyes glowing with salacious desire for her. "No... not really," she had answered offhandedly. "Look!" the middle-aged voyeur gloated, as he quickly unwrapped a huge, rubber dildo, looking closely at her to see her reaction to it. "Oh!" she gasped involuntarily, her eyes widening. "Do you know what this is?" "Yes! It's a dildo and I'm not having any part of it!" It was the second time she had been confronted by a man wielding one of those things in his hand and wanting her to use it on herself. The last time, she had gone along with it, barely entering the head of the rubber penis into her vagina, but she had made up her mind=8B regardless of what the consequences might be with Miss Sloan=8Bthat she wouldn't ever do that again. "But, I thought you were supposed to pose any way I want you to?" "That's right! Anything but that!" "Okay! I'll just have to ask for some other girl who will, then!" he exploded. Susan knew that she couldn't afford a complaint from him; it could mean the loss of her job. "All right," she conceded, "I'll pose with it... anyway you want me to, except actually putting it in... okay?" He had been mollified by her compromise, and the somewhat chubby, graying client had taken several pictures with her holding it in position against the mouth of her vagina... even one shot of her kissing the head of that monstrous penis substitute. At least, he hadn't registered a complaint by asking for another model, and he had suggested that he'd probably be back, again, asking for her. Then, as she went on showering, her hands now running down over her hips and finally between her thighs, as she soaped and cleaned herself, her fingers caressed unconsciously the hardening bud of her clitoris. She gasped with the pleasurable sensations her fingers brought her and she remembered that enormous rubber penis she had held in her hands, the idea suddenly ricocheting around inside her skull that maybe... just maybe... something like that would help her to gain the sexual satisfaction she needed. But God, it's so cold-blooded... just a kind of... of self abuse! If she had had that dildo in her hands right then, though, she probably would have used it... because she found it so difficult to tear her hands away from her own genitals. Standing back away from the shower, she allowed the water to stream down onto her abdomen to rinse away the soap, her hand returning, again, to the short, hard bud at the top of her furrowed cunt. Before she knew what was happening to her, and could stop herself from doing it, she had reached an ecstatic level of sexual arousal, so far gone that there was only one thing she could do. With long, smooth strokes, her finger began to slide up and down along the right side of her clitoris, in a regular tempo, as she began to masturbate, knowing instinctively what she must do... even though she had never done it before to completion. My God! What am I doing... to myself? She knew... really, but she couldn't stop. Nothing, at that point, could have made her stop it. OOoooh! I've got to have something... more! The something more she needed was a pounding cock in her cunt, but that was impossible. Ron was completely exhausted. Anyway, it was too late. Then, she slid her hand on down farther, a finger slipping into the moist warmth of her cunt's mouth. It felt so small and insignificant. She inserted a second finger, and the increased breadth of both fingers felt better, began to give her a sense of well-being; however, she needed the extra sensations her clitoris provided. Then, again, almost instinctively, she used her thumb, letting it slide up and down the quivering, length of her sensitive sex bud, while at the same time a third tiny finger joined the other two in the sheath of her vagina. A sudden revealing to her of why some women would stoop to use one of those horrible-looking dildos, was like a breath of fresh air to her troubled mind. God! Now, I know... and if I had something right now... I'd probably use it! For she knew then that she would masturbate herself to climax. Faster and faster, her hand worked, as she finger- fucked herself, knowing only that the ecstatic rapture she was feeling would bring her the release from built up tension... sexual tension of such intensity, that it could not be sublimated. In her imagination, she felt herself lying under her husband, while his hard length plunged in and out of her soft, trembling cuntal sheath. It helped to imagine it that way. Somehow, it helped her to feel less guilty about it. Masturbation, she remembered being told when she was quite small was bad for you; although, it had never been explained just how it was supposed to be harmful. It would take a while for her to get over that idea, but for now, there was guilt in her. She'd have to live with it... until when she was more enlightened, she would realize that it's really quite normal and natural for both men and women. And, then, in spite of guilt, the pleasure of what she was doing overwhelmed her, and she gave herself over to that joy completely, her hand moving faster, her fingers plunging deeper into the mouth of her cunt, until suddenly, her orgasm burst upon her convulsively. She moaned to herself, afraid to cry out with the ecstasy she felt for fear that she might awaken her husband. OOOoooh! Oh! It was a complete orgasm, leaving her satisfied physically; although mentally she was distraught, a rising disgust in her with what she had done spoiled it for her. She would never tell Ron about it, but if she had to do it to herself, again, she would make sure that her husband couldn't possibly find out... suspect her of it. Susan wasn't sure what his reaction would be... but she remembered his remarking one time that almost every man, especially as young teen-agers, masturbated... But, I'd just die... if he found out! Somehow, she equated it with a kind of infidelity. * * * "Isn't there some way the rules could be changed just a little bit so that we wouldn't have to do those sexy things those old men want us to do?" Susan asked. She was seated in Linda Sloan's private office, dressed only in the light wrapper she wore between customers. That same man, who had wanted her to pose with a dildo, had returned, again. This time he had brought in a special girdle constructed of shiny black leather, along with a pair of long, matching gloves and boots; then, when he had produced a leather whip from his attaché case, Susan had been genuinely terrified. For an instant, she had thought he had meant to use it on her but instead he handed the horrible thing to her. It was part of the bizarre costume he wanted her to put on for him. It was kinky, she knew, but again, she had gone along with him, donning the fetishistic clothing and allowing him to take pictures of her; however, when he begged her to use the whip on him, she balked. END * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 48