niggers/ZooTracker_Torrents/Petbooks/rws-192.txt

RWS-192 The Door-To-Door Salesman by Jean Sifton


Chapter 1


The lovely young blonde crossed one long slender leg gracefully over 
the other, and smiled dazzlingly at Doug.

"Thank you so much for picking me up!" she breathed. "I've had 
absolutely no luck at all this morning--that is, until you stopped for 
me, Mr. ...?"

"Fletcher, Doug Fletcher," Doug supplied, darting another look at the 
appealing young hitchhiker. He had been so surprised to see her, 
waiting at the entrance to the expressway, that he had impulsively 
stopped for her. Now he was glad he had--at least the journey to work 
wouldn't be as boring as it usually was.

"I'm Selma Blake," the blonde went on, as she pulled out a packet of 
cigarettes. Doug refused her offer of one, and she lit her own, pulling 
deeply on it. He couldn't resist stealing another glance at her--he was 
certainly attractive, and the short skirt she was wearing revealed the 
smooth sweep of her curvaceous thighs. Her long blonde hair swung back 
freely over her shoulders and she had a youthful carefree look which 
suddenly made him feel old and careworn.

"Do you always hitchhike to work ... If that's where you're going ..." 
Doug inquired, fighting his desire to forget all about the heavy rush-
hour traffic and concentrate solely on his beautiful passenger.

"Oh, sometimes," Selma replied enigmatically, and smiled at him again, 
her full ripe lips curving upward tantalizingly.

Doug was aware of a tightening in his loins, of the stirring of his 
awakening cock, and hoped that its stiffening was not noticeable 
through his trousers. Steady on, he warned himself silently, don't 
forget you're a married man!

"You look angry all of a sudden!" Selma said, and Doug realized that he 
was frowning, the corners of his mouth drooping, his lips white and 
tight.

"I'm not ... I'm just thinking," he said lamely, angry that she had 
noticed his reaction to his internal thoughts. Any man would scowl if 
he had the problems I've got! he told himself, unable to turn his 
thoughts away from Betty and their fight this morning. Just like me to 
have to worry about that nagging bitch when I've got a cute dish like 
Selma beside me.

He couldn't help thinking that their quarrels got more and more 
frequent, while their love life, such as it was, got less and less 
frequent. They had tried to figure out what was wrong between them, by 
calm conversation, but it always ended the same way, with one or the 
other of them hurtling accusations at the other. But he knew what the 
problem was ... the plain and simple fact was that he wasn't getting a 
good lay at home and that was bound to get to any normal guy after a 
while! But Betty, every time they even got near to discussing the crux 
of the matter, seemed to get hysterical, yelling "it's all your fault," 
and refusing to discuss it further.

Well, he'd had enough of that, a man could only put up with so much 
before he cracked, and he was dangerously close to the breaking point 
now--this morning's quarrel was almost the last straw! If that frigid 
wife of his had any idea of how she was affecting him, she'd change her 
tune, and quick, before it was too late ...

"Hey, calm down," Selma said suddenly, leaning a reassuring hand on his 
arm, and Doug was amazed at the shudder of pleasure which rippled 
through him from the electric contact. "You're all wound up," she went 
on sympathetically. "Something must really be getting to you!"

Yes, something is, Doug smiled grimly to himself, acutely aware of her 
gently pressuring hand on his arm.

"Where will I drop you off?" he asked brusquely, avoiding her eyes.

"Central Avenue will be fine," Selma responded, gathering up her bag.

"Look ... how ... would you like to meet ... say for a drink, after 
work?" Doug heard himself saying almost involuntarily. He was aware of 
the painful thudding of his heart as he waited for her reply. She'd 
probably refuse, after all, he had no business asking her in the first 
place.

"Sure, I'd like that," she said at last, and Doug realized that he had 
been holding his breath.

"Great, that's great," Doug exclaimed, and said that he'd pick her up 
outside her office at five.

He sat watching, his eyes glued to the provocative sight of her shapely 
hips until she was lost to sight in the hurrying crowd.

Hell, it's only a date for a drink, no harm in that, he told himself as 
he steered the car off in the direction of the city center. And it sure 
will be better than going home to Betty and facing another of her 
scenes.

*   *   *

Betty Fletcher grimaced as she swallowed the hot coffee. She couldn't 
adjust to the slightly bitter taste of the brandy, but knew that the 
overall effect of the mixture compensated for the unusual taste. 
Already she felt a warm tingling deep in the pit of her stomach as the 
hot liquid burned its way down and she could almost feel the tension 
easing out of her muscles. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against 
the back of the breakfast nook, and tried to calm her troubled 
thoughts. She hadn't meant to lose her temper with Doug this morning; 
she really hadn't. But she just couldn't help it. She felt so irritated 
and tired, so depressed as soon as she woke up. Of course it was his 
fault; he knew that when she said she didn't feel like making love, she 
meant it. But he always persisted, which really got her upset, and made 
her nervy and on edge all night, usually carrying through into the 
morning.

If only he'd understand her, or even try to.

But no! All he ever thought about was himself, and sex! He made her 
feel like an automaton with the constant demands--no wonder she lost 
her temper with him so much.

She took another deep drink of her brandied coffee, and wondered 
wearily how she'd get through the day. The idea of calling Tricia, her 
girlfriend occurred to her, but even the thought of making the effort 
to get dressed up and go out depressed her. And Tricia was always so 
inquisitive about the personal side of her married life, giving out 
details freely about her own sexual encounters, and probing almost 
rudely about Doug and herself in bed. No, I can't face Tricia this 
morning, Betty sighed. She looked listlessly around her, mentally 
arranging in order of most importance the tasks she had to do. But she 
couldn't even get interested in that. She was usually very house-proud, 
capable and efficient in running her home, but now she could see 
telltale curls of dust, clutters of newspapers.

It isn't fair! It isn't fair! she thought desperately, I'm young and 
attractive still, life shouldn't be over for me after two years of 
marriage!

Two years! She got up and wandered glumly into the hall. Two years of 
bickering and frustration, getting worse all the time, with no 
prospects of improvement.

She noticed, with disinterest, that the mailman had come. She felt a 
momentary rush of interest as she saw a small package among the usual 
circulars and a bill. "Personal Products" the discreet stamp in the 
corner said, and Betty realized that the vibrator-massager she'd 
ordered two weeks previously had arrived.

She carried it into the kitchen, and poured herself another cup of 
coffee, adding a liberal splash of brandy, and then sat down again in 
the breakfast nook to open the package.

She had read the small advertisement in one of the journals Doug 
subscribed to, and had been impressed by its claims. "Relieves stiff 
areas of the body," and "pats, stimulates, while you glow all over" and 
finally, "feel relaxed and happy after the deep massage of our natural 
feel personal vibrator."

Relaxed and happy. How long was it since she felt that way? She could 
barely remember, and almost desperately had mailed off the coupon 
asking for a free trial. She had forgotten all about it in the past 
couple of weeks, as tension mounted between herself and Doug and things 
went from bad to worse. But now, here it was, and if it helped a little 
bit, it would be worth it.

Betty couldn't suppress a gasp as she pulled away the last layer of 
tissue and revealed the gleaming cylinder of the massager. She didn't 
know what she had expected, but certainly nothing like this. It was 
about six or seven inches long, contoured at one end to allow the hand 
to grasp it, and the other end was topped by a slightly flaring knob. 
Betty stared at it, her eyes swimming from the strain and also from the 
effects of the brandy. It was like ... well, it looked almost exactly 
like a ... a penis! She had no idea it would be like this. Almost 
gingerly, she unfolded the instructions leaflet, and read that it was 
"contoured to fit every curve of the body in a design proved to be 
effective ..."

Tentatively, Betty carefully picked up the instrument, and was 
surprised by how snugly and almost reassuringly it fitted in her palm. 
Its surface was smooth and shiny, completely concealing the inner 
works. She flicked the on-switch and was amazed at the urgency of the 
vibrations; her entire hand shook gently and the instrument felt 
strangely alive and warm in her hand. Maybe it will work, maybe it will 
help me relax, just like the ad said.

Turning off the vibrator, she glanced again at the instructions. "Just 
apply your personal vibrator to any stiff, unyielding spot, i.e. your 
neck, shoulders, even your thighs, and immediately feel deep relief 
starting to pour through you from the special penetrating powers of 
this new design ..." It sounded so simple, but maybe a simple solution 
was what she needed, to a far from simple problem.

Betty didn't know what to do. She sat there, staring at the massager, 
faintly horrified at its lewd shape. It was so suggestive ... she 
couldn't help comparing it to Doug's penis, which certainly didn't 
relax or satisfy her. Far from it. She dreaded bedtime now, terrified 
that he would want to make love, which he usually did. Of course, it 
hadn't been like that in the beginning. On their honeymoon, she had 
been just as eager as he was to make love, and even though it hurt a 
little at first, and didn't feel particularly good, she was sure that 
time would adjust everything. And Doug was so gentle and solicitous 
with her, too, taking infinite care to ensure that she was ready for 
his entrance. Yes, everything had been fine, even though she hadn't 
derived full enjoyment from his lovemaking, and she had been sure that 
it was just a matter of time. But after the honeymoon, things just 
weren't the same. Doug just didn't seem to have the inclination or 
patience to prepare her adequately first, and couldn't understand why 
she didn't get as aroused as he did. She tried explaining that she 
needed more time, more stimulation, but he had brushed her explanations 
aside, even intimating that there was something wrong with her because 
she wasn't responding fully by now. And so, with the passing months, 
things had gotten worse, and she could barely bring herself to talk 
about it with him. He was so insensitive and unfeeling about what she 
needed, always blaming her without stopping to think that maybe his 
approach was wrong. No, the fault was always hers, and she was standing 
in the way of his sexual happiness.

Well, she was just about ready to try anything to make life bearable 
again, even if he wasn't. Wearily, she rose to her feet, and picking up 
the box containing the vibrator, made her way into the bedroom. She 
felt a little unsteady on her feet, and knew it was from the brandy she 
had doused into her coffee. She had got into the habit of doing that 
lately--it seemed to make the morning more livable, but she knew that 
this morning at least, she'd have to lie down for a few minutes. She 
must have put more than usual in, she realized, and thankfully sank 
back on the large double bed.

The room seemed to spin before her eyes, and she suddenly felt hot and 
uncomfortable. She opened her robe, and lay spread-eagled on the soft 
coverlet, willing her body into relaxation, mentally trying to drive 
the demons of tension out of her knotted muscles. Her legs felt leaden 
and her head was throbbing, and she could barely keep her eyes open. 
She knew if she closed them, she'd fall asleep, and she didn't want 
that to happen. God only knew what time she'd wake up again. Relax, 
relax, she told herself plaintively, but it was no use. She remembered 
the vibrator "apply to ... neck, shoulders ... thighs ..."

Well, neck and shoulders were out of the question; she just couldn't 
make the effort to reach them, but thighs ...

She reached over and grasped the vibrator and without giving herself 
time to think, switched it on. For a moment, she held it there in her 
hand, feeling its throbbing pulsating through her arm, and then, with 
her free hand, drew the edges of her nightgown up towards her hips, 
revealing the slender creamy skin of her long supple legs. She 
experienced a moment's apprehension, wondering if she should go ahead 
and use it, but she decided that she had to try it. She just couldn't 
go on like this; she had to do something or go crazy.

The vibrating surface felt strange against the soft flesh of her 
slightly parted thighs, but after a few moments, she got accustomed to 
it, and was amazed at the almost exhilarating sensation. It actually 
felt good, chased away the leaden feeling in her legs. She could almost 
feel the knots in her taut muscles untying, felt tension unwind as the 
massager hummed over the tender milk-white skin. Involuntarily, she 
slid her quivering thighs further apart, allowing the humming 
instrument to slip between the velvety surfaces and she became aware of 
new sensations of glowing relaxation as it throbbed away the tightness 
of her stiff muscles.

"Mmmmmm ..." she sighed blissfully, guiding the massager upwards, 
enjoying the surges of new-found pleasure swirling in the wake of the 
vibrator.

She gasped as the pulsating head came suddenly into direct contact with 
the sensitive flesh of her outer vagina, sending an unknown chill 
shooting through her. For a long moment, she held it there, hardly 
daring to breathe, not knowing what to do. Strange thrills surged 
through her as the throbbing top of the vibrator nudged at the softly 
squirming outer lips, eliciting a strange response deep in the pit of 
her loins. No, this is wrong ... she thought vaguely in the back of her 
wildly racing brain, and yet, she couldn't pull her hand away. This is 
good, too, just like it felt good on my thighs, she admitted numbly. 
It's helping me relax, it's soothing, she told herself, I can't stop 
now ...

Furtively, she edged the instrument closer to the burning flesh of her 
delicately writhing pussy and moaned aloud as it came into closer 
delirious contact with the moist folds of her slowly arousing cunt. 
There was no denying it ... the lewd machine felt good against her 
burning vagina! She could feel the blood pulsing through the thinly 
haired outer lips, felt the fluted edges of her trembling inner lips 
nibbling eagerly at the pleasure-giving gadget, and her entire body 
felt surmounted with a previously unknown delight.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she gasped as she continued to pressure the phallic-
shaped device against her hotly churning pussy.

Of their own volition, her cream-white thighs spread further apart, 
revealing the wet, tingling split of her madly throbbing vagina. 
Without stopping to think, Betty guided the hard penis-like instrument 
closer to the wildly dilating orifice of her helplessly aroused cunt, 
sighing as new sensations careened through her naked loins.

"Ooooohhhhh ..." she sobbed aloud as the pulsating machine came into 
searing contact with the turgid knob of her rigidly erect clitoris, 
nestling between the reddish curls of her pubic hair. Shockwaves of 
pleasure cascaded over her gently heaving body, and her face was 
flushed with exertion, bathed in a thin film of moisture. It was 
incredible ... she had never known anything like this before. She 
continued to rub the buzzing vibrator-head against the throbbing pink 
bud of her clitoris, grinding the rigid little organ mercilessly up 
against the hard plastic surface of the vibrator.

In the back of her mind, a voice admonished her, but she brushed it 
aside. This is wrong ... you shouldn't do this ... it's not right ...

"Oh God, I can't help it!" she moaned through passion-clenched teeth. 
And she couldn't. She was driven by an unknown force to hold the 
pulsating massager against the desire-aroused flesh of her writhing 
pussy, driven to grasp whatever pleasure she could from her love-
starved body. It can't be bad, she told herself. Something this good, 
this exhilarating just can't be bad ...

Her hips were flailing and thrashing around, her nightgown bunched up 
around her waist as she ground her heat-enflamed cunt up against the 
wildly jerking gadget.

Suddenly, she couldn't stand it any longer, and with agonized strength, 
she jammed the thick head of the vibrator against the pulsating petal-
shaped opening to her madly churning body. She grit her teeth as she 
steeled herself against the unnatural contact, and then heedlessly 
pressed forward again, forcing the rounded knob against her wetly 
writhing hole, insinuating it past the futilely resisting outer edges, 
sliding it into the heated sheath of her hotly burning cunt.

She lay there gasping as she held the thick machine in place, and then, 
without hesitating, she guided it deeper inside her, spreading her legs 
wider and arching her pelvis upward to afford greater access to the 
throbbing massager. Her entire loins felt alive and tingling and the 
instrument seemed to caress the moist tender inner tissues, which were 
already beginning to secrete excitedly, clasping the pseudo-phallus 
with greedy hunger. Of their own accord, her hips began to gyrate in 
time to the rhythmic pulsing of the vibrator, and as the heaving inner 
walls of her pussy began to lubricate with her moist feminine juices, 
she was able to rotate the device inside her clasping vagina, adding to 
the tremendous swirls of pleasure already building up deep inside her. 
She had never known anything like it; it was much, much better than any 
time with Doug. It was in fact almost as if her husband no longer 
existed; all that mattered to her was this incredible pleasure-giving 
instrument which was making love to her with an unbearable intensity. 
Her head began to whirl and her passion-drenched cuntal walls began an 
eager clutching at the half-buried machine, as if it was desperately 
trying to suck the gadget inside its heated depths.

Betty was bucking and thrashing against the bed, completely out of 
control now, aware that for the first time she was approaching a 
tremendous orgasm. And then, she couldn't hold back any longer ...

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" she shrieked wildly as wave 
after wave of overwhelmingly hot pleasure washed over her. She was 
climaxing, and it was better than she ever imagined. Desperately, she 
continued to ram the white imitation penis up between her crazily 
kicking legs, her voice incoherent with hoarse mewls. Her deep pelvic 
thrusts shook the whole bed, but Betty was oblivious to everything but 
the unbelievable sensations cavorting through her body, culminating in 
the overpowering pleasure that was burning up between her legs.

At last, the tremors subsided, and the uncontrollable flexing in her 
belly grew less and less, until finally, she lay still, her breathing 
shallow, her face flushed and moist with perspiration. The room still 
seemed to be swirling around her as she placed the vibrator back on the 
bedside table.

Conflicting feelings tumbled about in her dazed brain. Her body felt 
satiated and glowing, a new, satisfying feeling, but doubts began to 
form in her brain. What would Doug say if he found out what she had 
done? That she had made herself climax in that lewd way?

A sudden, agonizing image of how she must have appeared flashed across 
her mind to taunt her--legs obscenely spread, nightgown unashamedly 
wrinkled up around her waist, her hand eagerly thrusting the plastic 
vibrating instrument into her vagina ...

"Oh no!" she sobbed suddenly, her face crimsoning with shame. How could 
I have done such a disgusting, perverted thing?

She stared anew at the gleaming device, still wet and glistening from 
her inner juices, and a feeling of revulsion rose up inside her. Unable 
to stand the sight of it any longer, she hurriedly threw it into the 
box and rushing over to the bureau, flung it into the bottom drawer, 
under a layer of clothes she seldom used. She caught a glimpse of 
herself in the full length mirror behind the door and gasped at her 
disheveled hair, her flushed, lustful face, the erect buds of her 
nipples through her nightie.

Oh God, what's happening to me? she sobbed as she dashed into the 
bathroom, unable to stand any longer the sight of her sensually 
satisfied body.



Chapter 2


Doug knew he was driving recklessly, but still he didn't slow down. He 
was beginning to be sorry that he had ever met Selma, and the one drink 
they had had together was a disaster. He knew that most of the fault 
was his. Somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to unwind. Nothing but 
platitudes came into his head, and things weren't helped by the fact 
that Selma herself was relaxed and carefree. Instead of helping to 
loosen him up, it only made him more uptight. It was because he was 
guilty, he knew. He couldn't help wondering what Betty would think if 
she knew he had taken a gorgeous young blonde out for a drink after 
work. Worse still, what would she say if she knew that the lovely 
teenager was really interested in him? Because, the fact was, in spite 
of his being tongue-tied, Selma didn't bother to hide the fact that she 
found him attractive. He'd have to be a fool not to notice, and the 
knowledge filled him with mixed feelings.

Even though she was quiet and motionless now in the passenger seat 
beside him, Doug was acutely aware of her presence. The thought that a 
beautiful young girl like Selma was interested in him, or even found 
him attractive, gave him a secret thrill of pleasure, but he also found 
himself filled with foreboding. Just why, he couldn't say. He knew that 
he found her attractive--in fact, she was one of the loveliest girls 
he'd ever seen--and in the end, he had to admit to himself that he was 
afraid. Afraid of what might happen, afraid of his own feelings and 
desires, and afraid of what Betty would think if she ever found out.

Not that there's any likelihood of anything happening, he thought 
bitterly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the striking profile 
of the young blonde teenager. She can't wait to get home; otherwise 
she'd have accepted another drink ...

Doug was completely sunk in his depressed thoughts, and he didn't 
notice the sudden choking sounds that were coming from the engine. The 
first thing he realized was that the car was slowly grinding to a halt.

"What the hell ..." he swore as it came to a complete standstill.

"Maybe you're out of gas?" Selma suggested helpfully.

But Doug knew he wasn't and a quick glance at the gas gauge confirmed 
that it was half full. Desperately, he tried the starter again, but the 
sputtering sound was ominous.

"What a place to break down!" he muttered as he looked out on the dark, 
lonely road. "We must be miles away from anywhere!"

"I think ... I think the nearest gas station is about two miles away," 
Selma said in a small voice. "I'm sorry ..."

"It's not your fault," Doug assured her. "If it didn't happen here, 
it'd happen somewhere else!"

"If you hadn't decided to drive me home ..." Selma said again, her 
voice catching.

"Don't worry about that, Selma. Is there a phone near here?"

Selma shook her head. "No, the nearest one is at the gas station!"

"Well, it looks as if I'll have to walk there and get a guy to come 
back with me!" Doug said, feeling irritated.

This is what happens when a guy tries to date a girl on the sly, he 
told himself angrily. Out loud, he called to Selma. "You should be all 
right here. Just get in the back seat and lock the doors. I won't be 
long!"

Before he could hear her reply, he got out of the car and then decided 
to have a quick look under the hood. Luckily, he had a flashlight with 
him, and he peered into the mysterious darkness of the engine. Almost a 
novice at mechanics, he couldn't make anything of the motor, and 
slammed down the top again.

You've got a nice long walk for your trouble now, old buddy, he told 
himself and turned in the direction Selma had told him. But he was 
suddenly arrested by a heartfelt cry.

"Doug! Doug! Don't leave me!"

What the hell's the matter now? he thought angrily as he turned back 
towards the car.

"Selma! What's wrong?" he asked, opening the back door and looking in.

"Don't leave me here alone! I'm afraid!" she whispered, and her voice 
sounded as if she had been crying.

"But nothing will happen to you and I won't be long!" he assured her.

"Let me come with you!" she begged, her voice soft and pleading.

"But if you come, you'll only slow us down. I intend to run most of the 
way!"

"B-But I can't stay here! I'm ... I'm scared to death!" her cry ended 
on a sob and Doug eased himself into the back seat beside her. He just 
couldn't go off and leave her alone, crying and frightened.

"Now Selma, don't cry. There's nothing to be frightened of. I'll be 
back soon and then I'll take you home." he soothed, placing his arm 
reassuringly around her shoulder. Within moments, she was clinging to 
him and he could feel her slender frame shaking as she pleaded with 
him.

"We can stay here in the car until someone comes! There's bound to be 
people passing by, on their way back from the shopping center at Forest 
Circle!"

"This road looks as deserted as hell to me! We haven't seen an 
automobile on it yet!" Doug said severely, wondering how he was going 
to extricate himself from the mess he was in. It was obvious he 
couldn't leave Selma by herself in the car, but on the other hand, if 
she went with him, it might be hours before they got on the road again. 
Her body felt so small and vulnerable in the crook of his arm and he 
knew that she was really terrified at the prospect of being left alone. 
Maybe the best thing would be to bring her along, regardless of how 
long it would take.

After all, he couldn't sit here all night trying to persuade her.

"Okay, Selma," he began, but he was suddenly cut off as she moved still 
closer to him and in a moment, her lips were grazing along his jawline, 
trailing hot, moist kisses in an excruciating path to the fullness of 
his lips. She was kissing him!

For a long moment, he was immobilized with surprise, but then as the 
ripe warmth of her lips pressed hungrily against his, he found himself 
responding eagerly, grinding his mouth down against hers, his arms 
tightening around her in a powerful embrace.

A surge of pleasure thrilled through him as he felt the soft pliancy of 
her body, and then her tongue darted into his mouth. It slipped past 
his teeth and began to fence and twist around his own still dormant 
organ, whipping up a froth of saliva as it swirled around in his mouth. 
His head felt light and dizzy and his lips felt as if they were glued 
to Selma's softly yielding mouth. Instinctively, he lowered his hand 
and circled tightly the palpitating mound of her breast beneath her 
light blouse. He could feel the hardening arousal of her nipple as it 
leaped gladly under the caressing pressure of his hand, and, gaining in 
courage, he lowered his searching fingers still lower. He drew in his 
breath sharply when they came into contact with the gently quivering 
flesh of her thigh, soft and tender under the shiny encasement of her 
stockings.

"Oh Doug ..." she whispered softly, her voice warm and exciting.

But her words brought him to his senses. He wanted to go on like this, 
kissing and stroking her, but he couldn't. He might go too far ...

"Look, Selma, we'd better ..." he began lamely.

"We'd better what?" she teased, and he could only just make out her 
face in the dim light of the back seat. They were like two people 
marooned on a strange island, insulated from the rest of the world in 
the back seat. The knowledge of their solitude frightened him, and at 
the same time excited him. Doug could hear her breathing, shallow and 
rapid, and the almost tentative touch of her fingertips on his thigh.

"Selma, we can't ... the car ..." he choked, not knowing what to say. 
But then, her long fingers crawled excitingly upward and suddenly came 
into searing contact with the throbbing flesh of his pounding cock.

"Oh God, Selma ..." he rasped, hardly able to bear it as his rapidly 
palpitating cock began to grow with lustful intensity, swelling under 
the gently caressing strokes of her hand. Already it was straining 
against the material of his pants, and his hands had tightened like 
vises around the girl's trembling shoulders. He thought he'd go mad 
from the excruciating pressure when he heard the unmistakable whir of 
the zipper of his fly and then, his liberated penis leaped joyfully 
upward, a hard, pulsating rod of flesh. Almost immediately, Selma's 
fingers tightened around it, exerting exquisite pressure on the 
tingling surface. She ran her sensitive fingertips up and down the 
pulsing length of it, making Doug grit his teeth with overwhelming 
passion.

"Mmmmm ... it feels nice and hard already ..." Selma crooned, still 
stroking and caressing the lust-maddened shaft unbearably.

"Selma ... what do you think you're doing?" he gasped suddenly, 
desperately trying to force himself back to reality.

"What am I doing?" the lovely blonde murmured. "Why, I'm stroking and 
fondling your lovely big prick, to make it even bigger and harder ..."

The lewd words sent a fiery arrow of arousal shafting through him and 
with a moan, he crushed his lips down on her unsuspecting mouth, 
bruising against her lips with unsated hunger. This time, his tongue 
nudged hungrily against her teeth, forced its way up into the warm 
moistness of her mouth. His hands fumbled at the buttons of her blouse, 
almost ripping them away in his haste. Eagerly, they sought the warm 
quivering flesh of her palpitating breasts, dipping inside her 
brassiere and brushing against the burning buds of her turgid nipples. 
Selma mewled as he kneaded the sensitive flesh, her entire body 
squirming and tingling from his touch. Relentlessly, his hands chased 
downward and began to unzip her skirt, and Selma raised her thighs to 
allow him to slide it down over her shapely hips. He could see the 
whiteness of her panties gleaming in the half-light and then, with a 
savage, incoherent moan, he began to tug at the flimsy material. His 
eyes strained as he caught a glimpse of the golden triangle at the top 
of her voluptuously curved thighs, and then, more hurriedly, he began 
to ease the dainty panties down over her long, slender legs, pulling 
away her stockings as he did so. At last she was naked beside him in 
the back seat, and Doug was overwhelmingly aware of the exciting 
closeness of her, of the mesmerizing lure of her warm, yielding body.

Just then, a car loomed up before them, its headlights almost blinding 
them both.

"Oh God, who is it?" Selma gasped, but Doug hardly heard her. In the 
strong light, he could see the full splendor of her completely naked 
body, and his eyes were bulging in his head as he stared at the 
alabaster whiteness of her upswept breasts, surmounted by the roseate 
tips of her burgeoning nipples. Swiftly, his excited gaze dropped to 
the smooth sweep of her hips and fastened on the glossy flaxen triangle 
of pubic curls between her cream-like thighs. But, moments later, the 
car had swept by them and their own automobile was plunged into 
darkness.

He realized that Selma was shivering beside him.

"I got a fright," she whispered, "for a moment, I thought ..."

Doug gathered her in his arms and pulled her to him. He had hardly 
noticed the other auto, in his passionate arousal, had not even thought 
of stopping it and asking for a ride to the gas station. All he could 
think of was Selma. Once more he began to paint a burning path of 
passionate kisses along the curve of her swan-like neck, down to the 
full ripeness of her firmly rounded breasts. He enclosed each dark, 
throbbing nipple in his mouth, titillating the little buds with his 
tongue, nibbling at the excited puckering of her dark-red areolas. His 
knee edged between the silkiness of her slightly parted legs, forcing 
them even further apart, and Doug thought he could just barely see an 
enticing gleam of her moist pink cuntal-slit glimmering beneath the 
curling wisps of pussy tendrils.

His burgeoning penis was hard and intensely alive, every nerve ending 
taut and excited and he moaned aloud with new pleasure when he felt her 
fingers once more close around it.

"Oh Christ, Selma," he suddenly blurted, "I want to fuck you ... I want 
to fuck you good and hard ..." Her fingers tightened around the rigid 
shaft of his tormented cock and then she began to draw it towards the 
tantalizing fulcrum of her body. He could feel the velvety wetness of 
her softly quivering outer lips as the hard rubbery head of his jerking 
shaft nudged against them, and he had to force himself to hold back.

"Ooooohhhh yes ... yesss ... fuck me now, lover ..." Selma moaned 
suddenly, her voice harsh with desire. Doug couldn't stand it a moment 
longer. He had had all he could take and the pent-up force of his 
passion rushed out with a single overpowering drive, as he rammed 
brutally forward. With a flesh-splitting thrust, he parted the futilely 
resisting outer lips and crammed the hard pounding length of his lust-
bloated rod halfway up into the tight, unprepared depths of her cuntal 
sheath.

"AAAARRRRGGGGGHHH ... OH GOD YOU'RE KILLING ME!" Selma wailed 
piteously, desperately thrashing her hips in a frantic effort to elude 
the cruel impalement.

But Doug, goaded on by almost maniac lust, ignored her cry. Heedlessly, 
he continued to surge forward, forcing his giant shaft to the hilt in 
her defenseless little belly. He held it there almost interminably, and 
then, with excruciating slowness, began to flex it in the pulsing 
darkness of her tight, dry vaginal channel.

"OOOOOOHHHHH ... uuugggghhhnnn ..." Selma moaned as she felt the steel-
hard pole nudging against the sensitive tip of her cervix. She had 
never felt so full in her life. She felt as if the giant shaft were 
cleaving her in two, swelling with every passing second and she was 
almost afraid that it would explode inside her sorely palpitating 
depths. She felt vaguely uncomfortable from her awkward, half-lying 
position on the back seat of Doug's car, her legs parted lewdly, her 
naked back pressed against the cool leather upholstery.

Doug finally began to withdraw, pulling out his long throbbing cock in 
one swift stroke and then surging forward again.

"Aaaarrrrhh ... hhhmmmmhhh ..." Selma gasped as he plunged forcefully 
up between her widespread legs again, sinking his lust-inflated cock 
once more to the very base in her defenselessly naked belly. This time, 
the tender resilient inner membrane began to secrete excitedly, 
lubricating the long, lunging penis, allowing it to slip easily in and 
out of her openly spread cunt.

"Mmmmmm ..." she moaned again suddenly, as tiny pinpricks of pleasure 
began to form deep somewhere in her loins, and a long shiver of 
ecstatic joy chilled her backbone. Her voluptuously silken thighs 
spread even farther apart of their own violation, her toes curling 
around Doug's lower back. Her arms reached up and she clasped him 
eagerly around the neck, spiraling her pelvis upwards to receive his 
rhythmic downthrusts.

Doug was in a world of his own. He had never experienced anything like 
this in his life before, and the knowledge that he was fucking a near-
stranger in the back seat of his car, on a lonely country road, gave 
him an illicit feeling of pleasure that was excitingly mingled with 
power. He was exhilarated by the thought of what he was doing, and the 
wanton act liberated him in a way that he had almost forgotten. Selma 
was so yielding, so provocative, and just as aroused as he was! He had 
almost forgotten that a woman could be like that. He had almost 
forgotten the pleasure of fucking a real woman, a fully responsive 
female who returned thrust for thrust. Selma made him feel like a real 
man, completely sure of his masculinity--a feeling he had never had 
with Betty!

Betty. For a moment, he expected his conscience to overwhelm him with 
recriminations. He half-anticipated that the reminder of his wife would 
somehow make him feel different--would engender feelings of guilt and 
remorse--but it didn't! He felt nothing but the almost overpowering 
pleasure that he was getting from fucking this little blonde pick-up. 
The eager acceptance of her helplessly aroused little pussy instilled 
him with sensual vigor and made the wisps of passion which were curling 
around inside him burst into furious clouds of red-hot pleasure. He 
wished he could see Selma's face clearly, but from what he could see, 
he knew that her head was thrown back, her mouth half-open, spewing out 
incoherent words that were the expression of her complete arousal. He 
could feel the hardness of her turgid little nipples against his chest, 
could feel the increasing urgency of the spasms which were convulsing 
her body.

"Oh God yesss ... that's it ... fuck me harder ... harder ..." she 
pleaded, her voice indistinct and hoarse with lust. Her wet, naked body 
was writhing uncontrollably on the seat, and the clinging walls of her 
inner sheath were milking convulsively on his plunging cock, tightening 
like a vise-grip around the sensitive flesh as he plummeted deep into 
her warmly welcoming depths. Their two bodies were fused together as 
one, joined where his long rangy cock buried itself in the widely 
stretched passage of her openly throbbing vagina. They flailed and 
thrashed against each other, the car being filled with the lewd, wet, 
slapping sounds of their love-making. Doug felt as if he was being 
driven on by some inner, unknown force that was making him strive 
almost inhumanly for completion with the tortured, lust-wracked girl 
beneath him. He thought he'd go mad if he didn't climax soon. His whole 
body felt on fire, every nerve-ending taut and frazzled by the effort 
to reach the pinnacle of pleasure.

And then, a few moments later ...

"Oh! Oh! Oh! My God, I'm there! I'm ... I'm ... aaaahhh... I'M 
CUMMING!"

Selma's choked cry rang out just as her body stiffened almost 
unbearably, and then she was crashing down on the seat, pounding her 
passion-demented cunt up against Doug's furiously driving cock.

She was mewling and groaning uncontrollably, her entire body caught up 
in the throes of an incredible orgasm. Doug could feel the passionate 
vibrations resounding throughout the length of her feverishly flailing 
body, and her frantic spasms triggered his own release.

All at once, the tremendous pressure which had been building up in his 
balls seemed to explode. His head began to spin and his body seemed to 
pass out of his control, as a series of convulsive shudders gripped it 
and made him fuck brutally between the moaning girl's wantonly splayed 
legs.

"AAAAAHHHHH ... I'm cumming too!" he moaned savagely, as his tortured 
scrotum at last released the first hot spurt of his seething male 
sperm. It rushed blindly from the dark, hot cavern of his balls and 
poured out of the pulsating tube of his wildly stabbing cock, to gush 
wetly into the hungrily receptive depths of Selma's eagerly clasping 
cunt. It continued to flow in a hot, boiling jet of white fluid, 
seeping into the steaming creases and crevices of Selma's voraciously 
clutching vagina.

When, at last, the cumming was over, and he could sense, rather than 
see, that Selma was satiated, he collapsed over her moistly quivering 
form, covering her with his own trembling body. He was filled with an 
exultant sense of well-being, and his mind was wiped clean of all 
peripheral problems. He didn't care about the fact that the car 
wouldn't start, that he had just been unfaithful to his wife by fucking 
a young teenager. He'd worry about those things later. Right now, he 
didn't care about anything but the fact that he was satiated and 
fulfilled beyond his wildest dreams. And at the moment, nothing 
mattered but that ...

*   *   *

Betty was trying to decide whether or not to call the police, when she 
heard the car in the driveway. Oh thank God was her initial reaction. 
It was almost three a.m. and she hadn't heard a word from Doug all day. 
At first, she thought that he was just working overtime, or maybe 
stopped off somewhere for a drink. But as the hours ticked by and 
midnight came and went, she really began to get worried. Maybe he met 
with an accident was the recurring thought in her head and more than 
once, she had her hand on the receiver to dial the police. But now, 
thank goodness, he was home, and presumably all right. Her feeling of 
relief passed quickly and she was left with a vague feeling of 
annoyance. Why in hell hadn't he called her?

"Oh, you're still up," Doug commented as he let himself in the back 
door.

Betty felt the blood rising to her head and bit back a sharp retort. 
Maybe he has a good reason, and he'll tell me in a moment. "Would you 
like anything, some coffee, or maybe a sandwich?" she asked, trying to 
keep her voice careful and even.

"No, just get me a drink, will you?" Doug replied without looking at 
her.

Something in his manner and the way he had snapped out his answer 
irritated Betty, and she couldn't help hissing back:

"What kept you till this hour? I've nearly gone out of my mind with 
worry!"

"Just get me that drink, okay?" Doug said coldly, peeling off his 
jacket. Betty, seething with burning anger, mixed him a Scotch and soda 
and silently handed it to him. She didn't know what to say next. She 
didn't want to anger him, but on the other hand, she felt she was 
entitled to some explanation. She watched as Doug took a deep swallow 
of the drink, and wondered what could have delayed him.

"The car broke down," he said finally, and something snapped inside 
Betty. His brief, unclear explanation stung her to the quick, and the 
unfeeling way he was treating her concern and worry made her quiver 
with rising fury.

"Well, why the hell didn't you call me and let me know? I nearly called 
the police, I was so worried about you! You didn't have the good 
manners to call me, and now you're acting as if I'm some kind of nut 
just for asking!" The words tumbled out in a near-incoherent blaze of 
anger, and Betty found that she was trembling.

"Look, honey, I'm dead tired. Let's leave it till the morning, all 
right?"

"NO! IT'S NOT ALL RIGHT!" Betty sobbed, giving full vent to her rage. 
"You come back here, cool as a cucumber, and expect me to believe that 
bull about the car breaking down! You must think I'm a real dumb-bell!"

"Listen, Betty, I don't feel like listening to your hysterics right 
now. The car broke down and I was so worried about it, I forgot to 
phone you until I was ready to leave the gas station, so I decided not 
to bother and get right on home!" Doug lied smoothly, hoping that his 
wife wouldn't notice the slight flush that was rising to his face. He 
hadn't realized it was so late, or he would have phoned, if only to 
avert Betty's histrionics. But he really did forget to phone, what with 
Selma wanting to fuck again, and then by the time they got to a gas 
station and got the car fixed, and then dropped her off at home ...

"So I'm hysterical, am I?" Betty shrilled. "If you'd been stuck here 
all these hours, worried to death about where I was, you'd be 
hysterical, too!"

"Hysterical, maybe, but I wouldn't goddamn nag you!" Doug retorted, 
unable to contain himself.

"And why the hell shouldn't I nag, when you come home at this hour with 
some flimsy excuse! For all I know, you were out with some other 
woman!"

Doug blanched, and wondered if she could hear the furious thudding of 
his heart. Had she guessed? Did she find out in some way that he'd 
spent those hours with Selma? His guilty conscience churned in 
speculation and he was unable to form a suitable reply. Betty noticed 
his uneasiness and she pressed her advantage.

"Yes, that's it. You were probably out with some cheap slut, and now 
you come back here to me, at this hour of the morning, without even an 
apology!"

"Why the hell should I apologize?" Doug railed, suddenly finding his 
voice again. "The car did break down," he insisted, "and if you like, 
you can check the gas station in the morning!" As soon as he said it, 
he was sorry. Suppose she did check the gas station, and the attendant 
told her that he had been with a voluptuous blonde? Oh Christ, he 
shouldn't have said that.

"Let's go to bed, honey," he said in a conciliatory tone, "we're both 
tired and tomorrow--"

"I don't want to hear anything more about tomorrow! I want to get to 
the bottom of this tonight!" Betty asserted violently. She knew she was 
acting shrewishly, but she couldn't help herself. The floodgates of her 
emotions had burst open and had washed away any restraint she might 
have put on her tongue. The day had been such a miserable one, and 
throughout the length of it, she had to live with her guilt over using 
that horrible vibrator. Several times she had decided she'd make a 
clean breast of it and tell Doug when he came home, but that was out of 
the question now. She knew she was just taking her guilty feelings out 
on her husband, and another time she'd have accepted his excuse with 
loving concern. But tonight, she just couldn't let the matter rest.

"Betty," Doug began in a threatening voice, "I'm sick and tired of your 
harangue. Now just shut up and leave me alone!"

Betty's feelings were lacerated by her husband's cold tone. All the 
feelings she had nurtured about being misused and unappreciated leaped 
to the fore and pushed aside caution.

"How dare you speak to me like that?" she raged. "I'm sick and tired of 
you, with your disgusting ways, always thinking about sex, treating me 
as if I was a robot! You act as if you were God Almighty, but I know 
what you're really like! You're a ... a ... bad-mannered, ill-tempered 
... savage!" Her eyes were blazing and she was staring at her husband 
with utter loathing. A recollection of how he had wanted to make love 
to her last night flashed before her eyes, and of the other row they'd 
had this morning ... Oh God, she just couldn't take any more!

Doug couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't quite follow her line of 
thought, and as he hadn't mentioned making love, her outburst took him 
by surprise. But it also infuriated him. Selma doesn't think I'm a bad-
mannered, ill-tempered savage! he thought with sudden vehemence, and 
involuntarily took a step towards his wife.

"Stay away from me!" she shrieked wildly, jerking back against the 
kitchen table.

That was the last straw for Doug. The realization that his wife was 
afraid of him, had actually thought that he was going to harm her in 
some way goaded him in a way that her words hadn't. So she thought he 
was some kind of a monster, did she? Well, he had never given her any 
reason to think that before, but by Christ he would now!

"I told you before to shut up, you nagging bitch!" he spat, moving 
towards her and grabbing her shoulder with a rough movement.

"TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" she screamed, struggling desperately to break 
away.

"I'll teach you to pay attention to me," Doug snarled, and with a 
sudden swipe, slapped her hard across the face. Betty stared at him in 
dumbfounded horror, unable to believe that he had actually struck her.

"You ... you bastard! You hit me!" she gasped in disbelief. "Now I know 
what you're really like ... a man that would strike a woman!"

"You haven't a clue what I'm really like," her husband sneered, "but by 
God, you'll soon learn!"

"Get away from me!" she demanded hoarsely, her eyes widening in fright, 
dismayed at the reaction she had provoked.

"I've had just about all I can take from you," Doug spat, his hand 
tightening on her arm. "Now you'll do what I say, and like it!"

A hot retort choked in Betty's throat. She was really afraid now. She 
had never seen her husband so angry, and she knew that it was mostly 
her fault for aggravating him. Oh God, why didn't I keep my mouth shut 
...

"Get your clothes off!" Doug suddenly ordered.

"Wha ...?" Betty gasped, unable to believe that she had heard him 
right.

"GET YOUR CLOTHES OFF!" Doug yelled again, moving menacingly closer.

"You must be crazy!" Betty breathed, trying to struggle free of her 
husband's clutching fingers. But his only reply was to reach up and 
pull wildly at her blouse, ripping away the buttons, baring the softly 
molded curves of he brassiere-encased breasts. Betty could only stare 
at her husband as he hooked his fingers under her brassiere and with 
one sharp tug, he pulled it away from her body, leaving her full 
voluptuous breasts swinging free, the nipples stiffening in the cool 
air.

"Doug, please ..." she began in a softer voice, making a futile attempt 
to cover her naked breasts.

"Now take off those slacks!" he ordered, his eyes fastened on the 
cream-like flesh of her quivering breasts.

Betty didn't know what to do. If she obeyed him, and took off her 
slacks, she knew he'd only get excited and aroused at the sight of her 
naked body. And she didn't want that! She'd seen the look of lust leap 
into his eyes when he'd torn away her brassiere. But if she refused to 
obey him ... in the mood he was in, he might kill her!

Doug's fingers tightened even more painfully on her bare forearm, and 
fear made Betty fumble with the zipper of her slacks. Slowly, she began 
to peel them down over her fearfully trembling thighs, hoping that her 
husband would have a change of heart. But he didn't. Trembling, she 
stepped out of the garment, and stood there, clad only in a pair of 
diaphanous white panties.

"Well! Well! Well! You're not so fiery now," Doug leered, staring at 
his nearly-naked wife. "Now let's see you take off those panties!"

"But Doug ..." Betty began in a mortified voice.

"No objections!" her husband snapped. "Just do as you're told!"

Humiliated, Betty inserted her thumbs in the narrow elastic waistband 
of the panties and began to ease them down over the gentle swelling of 
her hips. Finally she stood there, completely naked, her head lowered 
in embarrassment.

Doug continued to stare at his wife's lovely alabaster body. His eyes 
were riveted on the russet triangle gleaming between her thighs, and he 
couldn't draw them away from the enticing spot. When he had ordered her 
to strip, he had done so compulsively without really thinking. He had 
to find a way to assert his masculinity, which had been resurrected so 
magnificently by Selma, and which had been temporarily deflated by 
Betty's tirade.

Now he was goaded on by a feeling he couldn't name, but which he knew 
had to do in some way with his guilt about Selma. If he had had a fully 
legitimate excuse for being so late, he knew he would have called, or 
even if, by some chance, he had neglected to do so, he would have made 
some effort to placate Betty when he finally did get home. Instead, he 
had gotten just as angry as she had. But now, something else was taking 
possession of him. As he stared at his wife's shapely, naked body, he 
was aware of the first stirrings of desire. Even though their 
lovemaking was never usually a really satisfying experience, he still 
got excited by her voluptuously curved body, and tonight was no 
exception. She looked like some beaten goddess, standing there, with 
her head bowed. Her long red hair had become undone and framed he face 
with tawny tendrils. Her full, ripe breasts were defiantly upswept, and 
her slender waist fell away to gracefully curved hips.

"Betty honey," he began softly, relaxing his cruel hold on her arm. He 
flinched as she shrank from him, but steeled himself to make another 
attempt. "I'm really sorry, baby. Let's ..."

"Don't touch me!" Betty hissed, her voice venomous. Although a part of 
her wanted to accept his reconciliation, her pride would not let her. 
He had wounded her too deeply, and she had to have her revenge.

But Doug had had enough. Her loathing was so obvious that he couldn't 
ignore it, and he had to show her that he was the boss. With a brutal 
shove, he slammed her hard against the kitchen table, making her cry 
out with pain. Stumbling, she lost her balance and fell in a crumpled 
heap onto the floor.

In a moment, Doug was beside her, his hands tightening on her hips, 
forcing her into a humiliating position on her hands and knees.

"Oh God, why can't you leave me alone?" she sobbed piteously, too 
enfeebled to try and struggle.

"I will, don't worry," Doug chuckled lewdly, "when I've finished with 
you!"

His fingers were racing over the flaccid moons of her softly fleshed 
buttocks, leaving ugly red wefts in their wake. Cruelly, he strained 
apart the rounded ass-cheeks, revealing the dark trembling crevice of 
her ass. His eyes seemed to glaze as he stared at the illicit crack, 
and then, without hesitation, he reached down and ran his long pink 
tongue along the quivering split.

"Aaaahhh! Aaaahhh! Aaaaahhh!" Betty sobbed, desperately wriggling her 
buttocks in a frantic effort to escape. But it was futile, and a 
crimson blush flushed her face as Doug continued to slaver and lick at 
her secret place. Dear God, he must be out of his mind ...

At last, the lewd licking ceased, and a feeling of relief swept over 
Betty. Maybe now he'll let me go ...

But her relief was short-lived. Fear rose inside her as she felt the 
unbelievable nudging of his finger at her tight little anus, and a 
shiver of trepidation raced along her spine. What in God's name was he 
going to do? Almost in answer to her terrified thoughts, Doug began to 
shove harder at the tight little ring, watching it crinkle defensively 
under his touch, and then, suddenly, he rammed it forward, forcing it 
past the tightly-clenched sphincter, inserting his middle finger in the 
dry, resisting darkness of her anal depths.

"Aaaaaarrrrrhhhhh ... stop! Stop! Please stop!" Betty begged, wriggling 
her soft, cream-like ass-cheeks frantically, as she tried to elude the 
forbidden intruder. But her struggles only seemed to assist her husband 
and he was able to bury his finger to the first knuckle in her tortured 
rectum.

Crudely, he began to rotate it inside her dark channel, making her 
squirm and moan with agony. But he was oblivious to her groans and 
continued to burrow his alien digit in her soft, rubbery depths. After 
what seemed an eternity, he finally pulled it out, and the pain began 
to recede from Betty's agonized back passage. She felt cramped and 
uncomfortable from the awkwardness of her position, and she thought of 
appealing again to her husband's mercy. But deep down inside, she knew 
it was no use. She had driven him over the brink by her callous 
nagging, and it was too late for him to draw back. Besides, her pride 
made it impossible for her to give in any more. He could do what he 
liked with her, but he would never break her spirit. He might conquer 
her body, but her mind would never submit.

But she couldn't resist gasping with new horror when she realized what 
was happening. At first she couldn't believe it, but it was obvious.

"Oh no! Please no!" she moaned when she felt the hard rubbery head of 
Doug's penis pushing crudely against the tiny defenseless opening of 
her rectum. She knew it was fully erect, because it felt granite-hard 
and unyielding, and fear clutched at her throat. She wanted to scream 
out, to make a desperate effort to get away from her husband, but she 
couldn't. She was immobilized by terror, all strength drained from her 
by the realization of what was happening. Oh God, how was she to bear 
it?

Doug stared down at the palpitating length of his fully inflated cock 
with satisfaction. It lay long and powerful against the trembling split 
of his wife's anal crease, the knobby head rubbing lewdly against the 
crinkled dark anus. He knew that Betty was afraid, and he reveled in 
her fear. It made him feel masterful, and made up in a small way for 
the degradation she made him feel with her taunts and accusations. But 
he wanted to subjugate her further, leave no doubt in her mind as to 
who was boss. And he was sure that when he'd finished with her, she'd 
know for sure ...

Betty winced when she felt the giant burgeoning head probing blindly at 
her fearfully cringing anus. She felt numb all over, and her brain 
refused to register what was happening. She could feel the lascivious 
pressure getting more insistent, and felt the searing tightening of 
Doug's fingers of her softly-rounded buttocks, and then ...

"AAAARRRRGGGGHHH ... OH GOD PLEASE STOOOPPPPP ..." Her voice rang out 
piteously and her whole body shook and vibrated as she made a last 
frantic effort to elude the lust-engorged penis which was stabbing 
salaciously at her defenseless sphincter. But it was useless. She 
couldn't move forward more than a couple of inches. She was a complete 
prisoner in her husband's hands, and she was powerless to do anything 
but submit to his wanton designs.

Doug continued to surge forward, straining with all his might, until 
finally ...

"NNNOOOOO ... OH GOD NOOOOO ...!"

Stabs of shooting pain shot up Betty's spinal cord as Doug finally 
managed to insert the thickly pulsing head of his cock up inside the 
elastic-tightness of her futilely resisting rectum. For a moment, she 
thought she was split in two. She was completely stunned by the 
excruciating pain and her breath was coming in agonizing gasps.

"Stop it ... stop it, please ... you're killing me ..." she rasped 
hoarsely, barely able to make her voice heard.

But Doug was cruelly oblivious to his wife's agony. After a moment or 
two of gathering his strength, he shoved forward again, forcing his 
huge, lust-distended cock into the virginally tight, unyielding sheath 
of her rectum. Relentlessly, he surged on, searing the sensitive inner 
membrane unbearably, until at long last, he was embedded to the hilt in 
her sorely abused anal depths. He held it there triumphantly, watching 
the desperate squirming of Betty's lewdly skewered buttocks.

"... uuugggghhhnnnhhh ... Aaaahhhh ..." Betty moaned incessantly, 
unable to do anything else. She never felt so used and debased in her 
entire life. The pain, excruciating as it was, was nothing compared to 
the agony of her mind. She could never hold up her head again after 
this terrible anal rape. She never imagined that people did such things 
to each other, least of all her own husband! And to think she'd felt 
guilty over using the vibrator! That seemed very minor now in 
comparison with what her husband was doing to her.

Doug began to withdraw, pulling out his long, rangy rod with a slow 
movement. The tight dry inner flesh clung agonizingly to the slowly 
exciting shaft, causing new pain to flood through Betty's lewdly 
impaled loins.

When just the heavy, blood-filled head was still tightly sunk inside 
the tiny muscular ring, Doug surged forward again, this time without 
stopping, and embedded his passion-inflated cock right down to the base 
in her firmly clenched back channel. Then he began a slow, laborious in 
and out rhythm, the tortured rectum finally yielding slightly and 
allowing him to plunge and withdraw with greater ease.

Betty's pain lessened slightly too, but her entire frame was still numb 
with shock and she didn't feel anything. Her tired brain refused to 
operate, too, and she could do nothing but hunch there in her crude 
position, waiting until her husband had finished with her. Her naked 
buttocks felt sore and bruised, but she was a slavish victim to her 
husband's greater strength and power. But she'd pay him back, that was 
for sure ...

Doug fucked into his wife's widely stretched anus like a man possessed. 
The very licentiousness of the act gave him new thrills of lurid 
pleasure, and the knowledge that he was hurting and embarrassing his 
wife in a mind-shattering way added to his lust-incited passion. The 
sight of her crouched and trembling figure filled him with a brutal 
kind of power and he was determined to get the most pleasure he could 
from his unwilling victim.

"Move that tight little ass of yours around on my cock, baby," he 
leered suddenly, accompanying his obscene order with a hard slap of his 
open palm on the flaccid flesh of her buttock.

His vile words made Betty shudder with revulsion, but fear propelled 
her into giving some semblance of a response, even though the idea 
repulsed her. Awkwardly, she tried to rotate the trembling mounds of 
her backside, but new shivers of pain chilled through her and she had 
to cease her attempts. But luckily, Doug didn't seem to notice. He was 
completely carried away by the obscene act he was enforcing, and Betty 
suddenly realized that he was very near to climaxing.

His deep hard thrusts had become more convulsive, the tempo of his 
brutal ass-fucking increasing with each passing second. The thought 
that he would soon empty his seething hot semen into her abused anal 
passage filled Betty with loathing, but at the same time, she wanted 
the moment to come, so that she would be released from this 
degradation. Hoarse, semi-human groans filled the air, and Doug was 
like a wild beast behind her, bucking and battering against her 
bruised, strained backside. He was like a rutting animal, Betty 
thought, and she wondered if she would ever forgive him for this 
terrible outrage. She doubted it, in her present state of mind.

But just then, she forgot about everything in the horrendous enormity 
of what happened next. Doug stiffened behind her, and for a moment 
seemed completely suspended. And then, with the force of a giant tidal 
wave, he began to fuck into her with hard spasmodic thrusts. He was 
cumming!

"OH CHRIST! I'M THERE ...!" he groaned hoarsely, his voice barely 
discernible. "AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH ...!"

Betty could feel the first onrush of the scalding fluid as it jetted 
into her chafed anal depths, and it stung the sensitive inner flesh 
almost beyond belief.

"Fuck back, goddamn you ..." Doug hissed lewdly, as he sent spurt after 
spurt of hot, boiling sperm into her forever-stretched anal channel. It 
flowed unceasingly into the fearfully cringing interior of her helpless 
little belly to lie in a lascivious pool in her tortured depths.

At last, it was over. Betty could hardly believe it when she felt her 
husband's limply deflating penis begin to slip harmlessly from her 
flooded rectum, and Doug himself staggered away from her still 
crouching form.

Without another word, Doug ambled in the direction of the bedroom, and 
Betty heard the kitchen door slam with an ominous finality which seemed 
to echo through the darkened house.



Chapter 3


Betty had thought that the morning would never come. All night long, it 
seemed to her, she had lain awake, her thoughts seething with disbelief 
and anger over what had happened. Doug slept on unconcernedly beside 
her, and the knowledge that he was apparently untroubled by what he had 
done, added fuel to the fire of her fury. When at last dawn had come, 
she had risen wearily, and this morning, the brandy was very welcome in 
her coffee. She had just finished her second cup when Doug had come 
into the kitchen and she had silently set about preparing breakfast for 
him. She didn't think she could face anything to eat herself.

"Betty, honey, about last night ..." Doug began tentatively, hoping for 
some encouraging reassurance, but Betty didn't reply. "I'm really sorry 
... it'll never happen again, believe me!"

Doug's voice was earnest and humble, but Betty didn't care. Without a 
word, she handed him a plate of bacon and eggs, and poured him a cup of 
coffee.

"At least say something," Doug pleaded, ignoring his meal. "I've said 
I'm sorry--what more do you want? I ... I guess I just lost my temper, 
besides being dead tired."

"Your breakfast is getting cold," Betty said indifferently, moving out 
of the kitchen and going into the living room.

Gratefully, she sank down into the soft sofa. Her husband didn't say 
anything more and she was grateful for that. She wanted to think, to go 
over the horrible events of last night. It wouldn't be for the first 
time, of course, but she reasoned that the cold light of day might 
throw a new gleam on the unbelievable trauma of last night. She 
admitted to herself that she was partly to blame, but at least, she 
told herself, her motives were altruistic. She had been really worried 
about her husband and it was her relief more than anything that had 
made her harangue and nag at him when he came home.

He should have phoned her--there was no denying that. But why didn't 
he, if his reason really was, as he insisted, that the car broke down? 
Betty just couldn't figure that one out. A looming suspicion kept 
nagging at the back of her mind ... maybe he had spent the evening with 
another woman! No! No! Doug wouldn't do a thing like that! I know he 
wouldn't ... or would he?

Betty just couldn't bring herself to believe that her husband was 
actually involved with another woman ... but why then had he got so 
upset when she had questioned him? Was it because of a guilty 
conscience? But worst of all, what had made him do such a disgusting, 
perverted thing to her? A shiver coursed through her as she recalled 
the agonizing pain and humiliation of that degrading act. Her sorely 
tried rectal channel still twinged from his cruel rape, and she was 
aware of a general, overall discomfort and achiness. She still couldn't 
really believe that it had been her husband who had done such a 
dreadful thing to her. He was like a complete stranger, demented with 
depraved lust. And now, the fact was, she didn't think she could trust 
him ever again. He had broken some indefinable bond in their marriage 
by his wanton behavior, and that tie could never be repaired, no matter 
what he did or said.

The loud pealing of the doorbell broke in on her thoughts, and glancing 
at the clock, she realized that Doug must have left for work already. 
She hadn't even heard him leave. But now, someone was at the door.

Pulling her housecoat tighter around her tall, slender body, she 
hurried to the front door. Wondering who her early morning visitors 
could possible be, she pulled it open, and was surprised to find an 
attractive man in his early forties, accompanied by a much younger 
woman, standing there.

"Good morning, Mrs. ... ah ... Fletcher!" the stranger said in a 
cheerful voice.

"Good morning," Betty answered, "but who ...?" She was bewildered by 
the fact that the stranger knew her name, and wished that he'd state 
his business.

"I'm sorry to bother you so early, but may I come in? There's something 
I'd like to discuss with you!"

Betty was surprised by his request, but felt that there was no danger 
in admitting him to her home, as he was accompanied by the young woman.

"Certainly, come in, both of you," she said after a moment, "but you 
must forgive me ... I haven't dressed yet."

"Don't worry about that, Mrs. Fletcher," the stranger said affably, 
following Betty into the livingroom.

When they were seated in the livingroom, he began again.

"First of all, let me introduce myself. I'm Harvey Peterson, and this 
is Jean Wembley, my assistant. Now I suppose you are wondering what all 
this is about?"

"Yes, I have to confess that I am," Betty said, a touch of annoyance in 
her voice. What did this smooth-talking stranger want with her?

"Well, I'm very pleased to be able to tell you, Mrs. Fletcher," 
Peterson said, his voice lowered conspiratorially, "that you have been 
noticed!"

"Noticed?" Betty echoed foolishly.

"Yes," Peterson went on, "out of literally thousands, you, Mrs. 
Fletcher, have been noticed by our talent scout!"

"Talent scout?" Betty repeated in amazement. "I'm afraid you've lost 
me, Mr. Peterson!"

"Well then, let me explain," Jean Wembley interjected smoothly. "Mr. 
Peterson is head of Galaxy Models, and sends his team of talent scouts 
out to search out new material. You see, we run a very special type of 
model agency."

Betty was staring from one to the other, her mouth half open in 
bewilderment.

"Yes," Peterson went on. "Instead of the usual teenager type of very 
young woman that most agencies seek, we look for the more striking, the 
more worldly type of woman. And you notice I say "woman". We're not 
interested in girls or teenagers!"

"B-but what has all this got to do with me?" Betty asked, still 
puzzled.

"As I mentioned, one of our talent scouts spotted you," Peterson 
explained, "at the Cross-Ways Supermarket, I think it was ..."

"Yes, I often go there," Betty agreed, "but how come he picked me?"

"Because you're just what we're looking for!" Harvey expostulated. 
"You're fantastic looking. Tall, willowy, with that fabulous red hair. 
A rare beauty, in fact, and with something extra, too!"

"What would that be?" Betty questioned, half-facetiously. She wasn't 
sure she really believed the man, but on the other hand, what he was 
telling her was mighty interesting ...

"Allure. Yes, in a word, allure," Peterson explained. "A great many 
women are good-looking, but not many have that extra something ... the 
very thing that you've got!"

"I think we'd better all have a drink," Betty said, "it's getting too 
complicated for me." As she mixed the drinks, her brain was racing 
wildly. What if Peterson was serious? Would he offer her a job as a 
model? Images of herself, swathed in elegant clothes, adorning 
magazines, with all that extra money, flashed across her mind. She'd 
have a life of her own! She'd be someone again, not just Doug's wife!

Almost trembling, she carried the drinks over to Peterson and his 
assistant, and put down glass for herself on the table beside the sofa.

"Excuse me for a moment and I'll go get dressed," she said, glad of an 
excuse to get away and think clearly for a few moments.

"Don't bother on our account," Peterson said. "In fact, if you don't 
mind, I'd like to take a few pictures right away."

"Pictures? Of me?" Betty said, reaching for her drink.

"Yes, for your book. You'll need one right away, although I'm sure 
there are a few bookings you can get right off the bat. But a portfolio 
is a good thing to have. I don't usually take the photos myself, but in 
this case ..."

Betty's brain was in a whirl. She knew he was talking about the book 
that all models carry around with them showing their best and most 
recent photographs. But ... did that mean that he was accepting her as 
a model without delay? Oh God, it was all too good to be true ...

"But shouldn't I change into something better, if you want to take full 
length pictures?"

"No, just head and shoulders will do for now. Later, when we do the 
composite, we can worry about clothes."

"B-but does this mean that I'll really be a model?" Betty breathed 
excitedly, taking a deep swallow of her drink.

"Honey, you are a model," Peterson said. "I'm just the guy who'll 
introduce you to the public!"

"I can hardly believe it," Betty breathed, finishing her Scotch. This 
new wrinkle put everything else in a new light. When Doug found out 
that she had a glamorous job, was earning her own money, meeting new 
people ... he'd quickly change his attitude. He'd have to apologize for 
last night; have to try and really make it up to her ... Oh thank 
goodness, things were really working out after all ...

Betty's heart was singing and she barely heard what Peterson was 
saying. Jean had gone out to the car to get the cameras and Harvey was 
complimenting her.

"I'm sure you'll take a fantastic photograph ... with skin like yours, 
and that hair ..."

Betty was uneasily aware that Peterson's eyes were traveling hungrily 
down her body, taking in the curved outline of her breasts, and 
fastening eagerly on the long expanse of her smooth, slender legs. She 
was glad when Jean came back, laden with cameras. She somehow felt 
safer with the other woman there. Betty judged her to be in her late 
twenties, and thought she was quite attractive, with her short cap of 
dark hair and her slight, almost thin figure. She wondered if she had 
ever been a model herself.

Harvey was busy arranging the cameras, and Betty thought they were very 
impressive looking, and confusing, too. She would have felt better if 
she was wearing something else other than her robe, even slacks and a 
sweater, but she was hesitant to slip off and change in case Peterson 
wanted her for anything.

"Right, we'd better get the info on you first before we start taking 
any shots," Peterson said. Jean got out a large notebook, and Betty 
gave her name, address and age.

"Now your measurements, honey," Harvey said, pulling out an assortment 
of measuring tapes from his large black bag. He measured her height 
first, and then took her weight as well.

"Would you mind slipping out of that robe, honey?" Harvey asked. 
"Getting the right vital statistics is important!"

"But ... I've only got my nightgown on underneath," Betty blurted. 
Somehow, she hadn't thought that he'd want to take her measurements, 
and was vaguely surprised that he didn't get Jean to do it.

"Don't worry about Harvey," Jean said smiling, "models are all alike to 
him ... he's seen hundreds!"

Of course he has! she told herself with relief. I'm just being stupid 
about the whole thing ...

She stood there in her almost transparent nightie, her robe discarded 
on the chair, and Harvey approached her with a long measuring tape. She 
shivered involuntarily as he reached around behind her and placed the 
tape along her back, carefully guiding the two ends around to the 
front.

"Must get it right on the nipples ... ah, they're good and stiff!" he 
murmured, and Betty found herself blushing fiercely. She couldn't help 
it. It felt so strange to have an unknown man measuring her bust, his 
fingers brushing against the turgid buds of her nipples. They seemed to 
strain eagerly against his light, almost fleeting touch, and she 
wondered if he noticed.

"Okay, Jean, 36! Make a note of that!"

He measured her waist and then dropped the tape to circle around the 
curve of her buttocks.

Gently, he draped his hands around her hips, to straighten the tape, 
and Betty felt a thrill of unknown emotion course through her. Oh God, 
what was happening to her? Peterson's illicit touch almost felt good on 
her nearly naked buttocks, and his fingers in front, drawing the edges 
of the measuring tape together, were only inches away from the nylon-
covered mound of her quivering vagina. Betty gasped with relief when he 
finally finished, and began to reach again for her housecoat.

"Let's do without that for a while, and get some head shots!" Harvey 
suggested, and Betty had no option but to comply.

The next half-hour sped by in a daze of poses, all head shots. Her neck 
felt stiff and sore from all the awkward positions she had to take. But 
it was worth it! She could hardly believe that it was actually 
happening to her. She hadn't murmured a word of protest when Peterson 
had insisted on her dropping the shoulder straps of her nightie, 
leaving her neck and shoulders bare. Of course, he was right when he 
said that it gave her a better line.

Jean had mixed more drinks, with Betty's permission, and now her head 
felt pleasantly fuzzy. Betty knew she shouldn't have taken the second 
Scotch, but she'd have felt left out if she didn't, and besides, it 
helped to ease the tenseness in her body, so unused to holding the 
stiff poses. Peterson seemed to grow more and more excited about her 
potential as time went on, continually exclaiming about her face, etc. 
and Betty could hardly believe that it was herself he was talking about 
in such glowing terms. It was all like a dream come true!

"Now, Betty," Harvey said at length, finishing his drink, after their 
short break, "how about letting me get one breast shot?"

"You ... you mean naked?" Betty said incredulously.

"Sure!" Harvey said emphatically, "that's what all the clients want 
nowadays, isn't it, Jean? Why, Betty, I'm sure you see it yourself all 
the time. Take up any magazine and there it is! Bare tits to advertise 
everything from handkerchiefs to airplanes!"

Betty didn't know what to say. She had to admit that Peterson was 
right. Only the other day, she herself had pointed out to Doug an ad 
which showed a half-naked girl, wearing only a watch. She had commented 
on it, wondering why they needed nudity to sell anything. Of course, 
Doug didn't even hear her--there was no need to tell him why that sort 
of an ad was used.

"But ... I don't think I'd like to make an ad like that," she said 
after a long silence.

"No, and you probably never will. But the fact is, the client likes to 
know, just in case, and always remember, in this business, the client 
is everything! He's always right!"

Betty was still wondering what to do when Jean came over to her and put 
an arm over her shoulder soothingly.

"Don't worry about Harvey, Betty," she whispered. "He just wants to 
take the shots, and he won't even notice. And it'll be over in a 
minute!"

Jean was right. It was silly to have scruples now, and she knew if she 
wanted to get anywhere in her new career, she'd have to do what Harvey, 
her agent, told her.

Gingerly, Betty eased down the half-discarded nightie still further, 
helped by Jean, revealing the full, milk-white mounds of her breasts. 
The nipples were erect and rigid, a striking dark red against the 
creaminess of her alabaster skin, and she was aware of Harvey's bulging 
eyes staring at them. His piercing look almost made her cringe and she 
was glad when he moved towards his camera.

"Now Betty honey," he instructed, "put your hands under your tits and 
sort of push them up and out!"

"But ... but ..." Betty faltered, her face crimsoning again.

"Look baby," Harvey said patiently, "when you start working, you'll 
have to look as if you're making love to the towel, or the box of 
detergent or whatever it is you're selling, so you might as well start 
learning now!"

Betty felt childish and recalcitrant. She wanted to do what Harvey told 
her, but some inner instinct held her back. She told herself that she 
just wasn't accustomed to the ways of the world, and what went on 
backstage in things like modeling. Well, I'm learning, she told herself 
wryly, and, encouraged by a friendly nod from Jean, she gently swept 
her voluptuously full breasts upward with a slow, tender movement. A 
little shiver of pleasure coursed through her at her own touch and she 
half closed her eyes, tilting her head backward, remembering for a 
fleeting moment, the unbelievable pleasure she experienced when she had 
made herself climax with the vibrator.

"Great! Just great!" Harvey praised enthusiastically as he took shot 
after shot.

"Okay, now relax for a minute, before we do a full-length!" he said, 
lighting a cigarette.

"F-full length?" Betty stammered, staring at him uncomprehendingly.

"Yeah, and that'll be the last. I swear, Betty, when the ad guys get a 
load of these shots, you'll be in real demand!"

His exciting words did not stir Betty. She was desperately trying to 
bring her reeling brain back to grips with reality. I knew I shouldn't 
have taken that second drink after the brandy this morning, she scolded 
herself. Harvey wanted to do a full length of her ... he must mean her 
to be naked! She wanted to tell him that she refused, that she didn't 
want to pose completely naked, but somehow, she couldn't summon the 
will power.

"Harvey, I don't think I want--" she began tentatively, but Peterson 
cut her off.

"All set, Betty?" he said, ignoring her hesitant objection. What was 
she to do? She didn't want to let him take a photograph of her naked, 
but he didn't seem to understand that!

"Harvey," she began again in a more authoritative voice, "I really 
don't think I ought to pose naked for you!"

Peterson stared at her for a moment, his brows knitted together in 
irritation.

"Look, Betty, if you want to be a model, you've got to go along with 
what the agent and photographer says. If you don't you won't get 
anywhere, and no agency will touch you! So what's it to be?"

A shiver of fear touched Betty's heart. She couldn't bear not to be a 
model now, not after the wonderful anticipation of the last couple of 
hours. It was the answer to her prayers, and certainly some kind of 
solution to the problems she faced in her marriage. No, she couldn't 
let this chance slip through her fingers ... just because of some 
modest, prim objection she had. Because that's what it is, she told 
herself firmly. Some advertisements did show naked woman, from the back 
or side view of course, but naked they were. She was being foolish to 
object.

Apprehensively, she slid off her nightgown and stood naked, quivering 
slightly, in front of Harvey and Jean. She felt as if she was in a 
dream. She couldn't quite bring herself to believe that she was 
actually standing completely naked in her own livingroom, in front of a 
couple of near-strangers.

"Now Betty," Harvey said, his voice strangely husky, "just stretch out 
on the couch, and sort of sprawl on your side, sort of like Venus!"

Obediently, Betty did as Peterson told her, and lay full length on the 
sofa, her head propped up with one hand, her thighs slightly parted. 
Harvey was looking at her intently, his eyes burning into her as they 
traveled from the ivory swell of her breasts down to the gleaming 
russet triangle of her pussy. Jean, too, was staring at her, and Betty 
felt uncomfortable and ill at ease. However, she felt better when 
Harvey began to photograph her.

"Beautiful, beautiful!" he kept repeating, and Betty just wished that 
it was all over.

"Now just roll over onto your stomach and show that ass of yours!"

Betty didn't care any longer about what she should or shouldn't do. She 
was beginning to think that she made a mistake in listening to Peterson 
in the first place, but now that she had gone this far, she didn't 
care. Harvey took just two shots of her in this new position, and then 
said that he was finished.

Betty was conscious only of relief. She felt suddenly tired and her 
head was pounding from the drinks. Hastily, she grabbed her robe and 
pulled it on.

"Betty, you photographed wonderfully--I can tell. I can't wait to see 
the rushes and as soon as they're through, I'll call you and let you 
know what's happening!"

"I'm glad ... glad ..." Betty stammered. She didn't know what to say, 
and only wished that they'd go.

"Believe me, you're going to be a great success," Harvey assured her as 
he gathered his bags and equipment.

Almost in a daze, Betty said goodbye to them and watched them as they 
walked down the drive towards their car.

At last, when they were gone, she stumbled towards the bedroom and 
flung herself down on the bed, all the drinks she had consumed making 
her forget everything--her husband, her new career--as she fell deeply 
into a fitful sleep.



Chapter 4


"I don't know when I'll be home," Doug said impatiently into the phone. 
"No, don't bother keeping dinner for me. I'll grab a bite at the 
canteen!"

He listened patiently as Betty tried to question him further, but after 
a few moments, he interrupted her.

"Look, I've got to go now. I'll see you as soon as I can!" He said 
goodbye, and with a sigh of relief, hung up the phone.

He dreaded calling his wife these days, but at least it was better than 
facing her in person. He found that he was running out of excuses, and 
he could hardly imagine that she believed him when he continually said 
he was working overtime. But she seemed to, and apart from her 
persistent questioning, she never mentioned the matter.

Just time for a quick drink before I pick up Selma, he decided, and 
ordered a brandy. The last couple of weeks had flown by for him. Never 
before were his days so filled. He could hardly wait for work to be 
over so that he could see Selma. His entire life centered around her 
now, and he knew that she felt the same way about him. He had never met 
anyone like her before, and for the first time in several years, he 
felt like a complete man. Of course, he'd been worried after he lost 
his temper that time with Betty and fucked her in the ass. He'd tried 
to make up with her, but she refused to have anything to do with him, 
so he'd given up trying. Things had sort of reached an impasse between 
them now, and they maintained an uneasy truce, but they were far from 
reconciled. But Doug didn't really care. He had Selma, and that was the 
important thing for the moment. Things would work out with Betty, he 
was sure, and now that he was having a hell of a good time with Selma, 
he wasn't too worried. Besides, Betty seemed to have cheered up of 
late. It was almost as if she had some secret that was sustaining her. 
She had made oblique references on several occasions to "a change" that 
was coming, and a "surprise" that he, Doug, was in for, but he hadn't 
paid too much attention to that. She'd get over that business of the 
ass-fucking in time ... maybe it was the best thing after all to just 
ignore her and go his own way. And when someone like Selma was at the 
end of that way, it sure made everything worthwhile ...

*   *   *

Betty could hardly believe it when she answered the doorbell and found 
Harvey and Jean there. She thought for a moment she must be dreaming.

"Oh Harvey! and Jean! I'm so glad to see you," she said effusively, and 
really meant it. She was sure she'd never see or hear anything of them 
again. Countless times during the past two weeks, she had gone over the 
whole event in her brain, wondering if she had imagined that Peterson 
had said he'd get in touch with her. For the first few days, she had 
waited optimistically by the phone, confident that at any moment, she'd 
lift the phone and hear Harvey. But after a few days had passed, and he 
hadn't called, she began to grow doubtful. And along with the doubt, 
came regret ... regret that she had allowed herself to be fooled into 
believing that anything would come out of it, and regret for having 
posed naked for the photographs.

As time wore on, and Harvey hadn't called, she worked herself up into a 
frenzy of worry, thinking that somehow Peterson might use the 
photographs against her, or worse still, have them printed in some 
magazine where Doug might see them. What would she do then? Things were 
looking very bleak, and were compounded by the fact that Doug was never 
at home any more. Betty just didn't have a clue where he spent his 
time, but he always seemed to be in a hurry, and was never home before 
midnight. She didn't really care too much, it was true, because things 
were definitely not right between them. But still, it wasn't right that 
he should leave her alone so much. He just didn't seem to care about 
her anymore and this knowledge did nothing to improve her state of 
mind.

However, just when the future seemed very gray, Harvey and Jean had 
turned up again almost miraculously.

Betty ushered Peterson and Jean into the livingroom, glad that this 
time, she was wearing an ordinary dress, and at least looked 
presentable.

"It's wonderful to see you again, Betty," Jean smiled warmly, as she 
sat down on the sofa. They both accepted Betty's offer of gin and 
tonics, and happily, Betty went over to the liquor cabinet and poured 
the drinks.

"I'm sorry for not getting in touch with you sooner," Harvey 
apologized, "but when you own and run an agency like I do, you're kept 
going pretty much all the time!"

"Yes, both of us are. Although I have other staff, Jean is my right 
hand gal! I don't know what I'd do without her," he said genuinely. 
"And now, I'm sure you'd like to hear about your shots!"

"Well, I was wondering what became of them," Betty admitted excitedly.

"The first rushes came through, and believe me, Betty," Harvey 
emphasized, "they were fabulous, just like I knew they'd be!"

"Have you got any of them with you?" Betty asked, and was disappointed 
to hear that he hadn't.

"Jean and I went over them, and picked out the ones we thought were the 
best, and gave them over to the photographer who works with us to 
print."

"Will I have a portfolio soon?" Betty queried with interest.

"Sure. It won't be long now, but to tell the truth, you won't have to 
make the rounds. Jean here was a photographer's rep at one time and she 
knows the game inside out. So with her pushing the photographer's angle 
and me, as your agent, pushing you, it won't be long before you're in 
demand."

"But I thought it might be fun to make the rounds, for a little while, 
at least," Betty said, disappointment evident in her voice.

"So it might, honey," Harvey said, "but a busy woman like you, with a 
husband and home to look after, can't spend all day tramping around, 
lugging that God-almighty satchel around with you and maybe at the end 
of it, getting only a call-back or two--if you're lucky!"

"But wouldn't clients prefer to see me in person?" she persisted, 
twirling her glass around in her hand.

"Sure, they would," Harvey agreed, "but believe me, the best way is to 
get them excited over your book first, and then see you in person. That 
way, they're bound to be sold on you!"

Betty didn't really understand Harvey's reasoning, but she decided not 
to question him further. She'd just accept his edicts without question. 
After all, he knew best, in this business anyway, and she was just a 
raw beginner.

"When do you think I'll go out on my first job?" she asked tentatively. 
Now that things were looking more definite, she decided she wouldn't 
tell Doug anything until she had come back from her first job, maybe 
even with her fee as well. She couldn't wait to see his reaction when 
she sprung that one on him.

"Well, you may have to go out on a couple of go-sees first," Harvey 
said cautiously. "You never can tell how things will happen. But one 
thing's for sure, it won't be long before you're in the swing of 
things!"

"I'd like to have some sort of idea, though, if I could," Betty said 
again, hating to push the subject, but wanting something more definite.

"You're right in wanting to be prepared," Harvey approved, and then 
turned to Jean.

"Run out to the car, will you honey, and get my "Coming-Up" book?"

Jean hurried out to the car, but in a few moments, she was back.

"It's not there, Harvey!" she said worriedly.

"Goddamn it, I must have left it at Villiers' Studio. Now what am I 
going to do?"

"Don't worry, Harvey," Jean soothed, "I'll drive over there and get 
it!"

"I don't mean to put you to so much trouble," Betty said timidly, "It's 
all right, really. You can phone me and let me know!"

"No, I've gotta have that book," Harvey insisted, and shot a grateful 
look at his assistant. "I'd really appreciate it, Jean, honey!"

"I won't be long," Jean promised, and let herself out the front door.

"How about another drink?" Betty offered, breaking the long silence.

"Sure, as long as you'll join me," Harvey countered. Betty, shrugging 
her shoulders, agreed. She didn't really want it, but it wouldn't do 
any harm, especially as she had stopped taking brandy with her morning 
coffee.

She sat down beside Peterson on the sofa when she handed him his drink.

"Well, Betty, how do you feel about your new career?" he asked amiably 
looking directly into her eyes.

"It's wonderful," Betty assured him wholeheartedly. "It'll mean a new 
way of life for me!"

"And what does your husband think of all this?" Harvey queried.

"I ... I haven't told him about it, yet," Betty admitted with 
embarrassment.

"Why not?" Harvey wondered, idly sipping his drink.

Betty didn't quite know what to say. She could make up something, like 
she wanted to surprise him, but she didn't think she'd sound convincing 
enough. Maybe the truth was the best thing.

"Well, we haven't been getting on too well of late," Betty said in a 
low voice. "In fact," she said in a rush of confidence, "we're barely 
on speaking terms. I hardly see him from one end of the week to the 
other. It's terrible ..."

"Why, where does he spend his time?" Peterson asked.

"Oh, I don't know, working overtime, out with the boys, something like 
that. I suppose to avoid coming home!"

"What kind of husband is he anyway?" Harvey said briskly. "That's no 
way to treat a woman, especially a beautiful, desirable one like you!"

Betty didn't know what happened next; she only knew that she was 
suddenly crying helplessly. Something in Peterson's sympathetic words 
struck a chord deep within her an loosened the tight clutch she had on 
her emotions.

"Hey, what's the matter? Was it something I said?" Harvey asked 
solicitously, placing a paternal arm around her shoulder.

"No, it wasn't ... I mean, yes ..." she blubbered, leaning against his 
shoulder, finding relief in his consoling voice and comforting arm.

"Take it easy, honey ..." he continued to soothe, stroking her as 
tenderly as if she was a child. "Why don't you tell me all about it?"

Peterson suppressed a secret smile. He had guessed that Betty had some 
kind of problem with her husband. Now, the way things are going, she'll 
play right into my hands ...

"I can't ..." Betty sobbed, "it's too terrible ..."

"But it might help if you talk about it, honey ..." Harvey said calmly. 
"These things have a way of working out if you bring them out in the 
open!"

"I know," Betty sniffed, "but I'm too embarrassed."

"It can't be as bad as all that," Harvey assured her, "and don't 
forget, I'm not exactly an adolescent!"

Betty considered his last remark. It was true that he was an older man, 
with probably a lot of experience of human problems, and he was also 
right when he said that things often looked better if discussed openly. 
But could she tell her secrets to an almost stranger?

"In fact, sometimes it's even better to tell your problems to a 
stranger," Harvey commented, as if he had read her mind. "Because a 
stranger has a totally different outlook and is not emotionally 
involved."

Betty suddenly felt that she couldn't battle on by herself any longer. 
She got absolutely no support from Doug and she felt tense and 
exhausted from the strain of trying to weather the storm alone.

"The whole problem is that we're not compatible!" she blurted, 
"sexually, that is!"

"Lots of young couples aren't at first," Harvey hedged, looking down at 
the lovely, troubled young wife.

"But we've been married for over two years, and things are just getting 
worse!"

"In what way, Betty?" Harvey queried helpfully.

"I ... I just can't ... don't seem to respond to Doug, that's all!"

"But you're not frigid, are you?"

Betty brushed aside her instinctive objection to such an intimate 
conversation with someone she hardly knew and went on vehemently.

"No, I'm not, but Doug says I am!"

"Well, then, maybe the problem lies with your husband ..."

"With Doug?" Betty said incredulously.

"Yes, maybe he's not the right man for you!"

"But I love him!" Betty said emphatically.

"No, I don't mean that way. What I mean is," he went on carefully, 
"that maybe you need a different kind of man to arouse you!"

"Another man? But I couldn't ..."

"Not even if it would help your marriage, and Doug?"

"No! It's wrong! I just couldn't ..."

Betty was so absorbed in her conversation that she hardly noticed that 
Harvey's hand was still casually caressing her shoulder. In fact, it 
felt good, relaxing and soothing, so that when she did become aware of 
it, she didn't particularly want it to stop. But Harvey's conversation 
was getting disturbing. All this talk about another man made her 
uneasy, and she wanted to change the subject.

"Would you like another drink?" she asked at length.

"No, I'm fine. You just sit back and relax. You're all tense and 
nervous. Just close your eyes and forget about everything and in a 
little while you'll feel better."

Peterson's voice was almost hypnotic and Betty found herself lying back 
comfortably against his shoulder, her eyes closed, as she tried to 
blank all her problems out of her mind.

Harvey continued to reassure her, soothing her in gentle tones. He 
looked down at the still quivering redhead and felt desire welling up 
inside him. It looked like he'd have to go to a lot of trouble to get 
this one, but it would be worth it, he knew. He could barely restrain 
himself when he had seen her naked body that day he took the shots. She 
was far better than he'd envisioned. She was like a sculptured goddess, 
only a living, breathing one. They all did--that was no surprise. But 
maybe he could really use her for Galaxy. She was definitely out of the 
ordinary, and maybe, after his plan had worked, he'd see if she was 
still interested in working.

Casually, his hand dropped lower still until it came into breathtaking 
contact with her palpitating breast. He sensed that her breath 
quickened for a moment when he touched her nipple through her dress, 
but she didn't say anything. He could feel the little bud hardening 
under his touch, burgeoning with obvious desire. Her whole breast 
seemed to strain against his palm, and lay warm and throbbing in his 
hand.

"Oh don't ... Please, Harvey ..." Betty mumbled half incoherently, but 
without making an attempt to stop him.

"Now just relax, honey, and don't worry about a thing," Harvey told 
her, his hand falling again to come to rest on the bare expanse of her 
thigh. He felt it quiver under his touch as he began to crawl with his 
fingers up along the sensitive, sleek surface, eventually slipping in 
under the hem of her dress.

"No, Harvey, please ..." Betty objected again, and made a feeble 
attempt to stop the approaching hand. Her brain was reeling and she 
couldn't seem to get control of her senses. Harvey's hand was on her 
thigh, she knew, and it was also true that it felt good there. She 
wanted him to move it away, to leave her alone, but on the other hand, 
she didn't know how to stop him. If only she hadn't drunk the second 
gin ... she told herself upbraidingly. But she had to make an effort to 
stop him before he went any further. It was wrong to let him do this, 
but it felt very good, relaxing and soothing ...

Carefully, Harvey edged his fingers upward until at last they came into 
contact with the thin nylon crotchband of her panties. It was wet!

"Oh noo ..." Betty moaned, making a futile effort to clamp her thighs 
together.

"Now honey," Harvey said again, "this is going to make you feel good. 
You'll really like it and it'll calm you down and you won't be nervous 
or tense anymore ..."

Relentlessly, his searching fingers slipped under the narrow legband of 
her panties and came into tantalizing contact with the first straying 
wisps of curling pubic hair. Betty jerked back as if stung, her eyes 
flying open in horror.

"NO, HARVEY, PLEASE DON'T!" she shrieked, trying to pull away from him. 
But his fingers still clung between her moistened thighs as his arm, 
curved around her shoulder, restrained her.

"Now Betty, you like my fingers stroking your cunt, don't you?" he 
said, his voice low and husky. "Don't you? You can't deny it ... or you 
would have stopped me before now ... before I got my hand inside your 
panties!"

"No! I ... I ..." Betty whimpered, words failing her.

"I know you like it, Betty," he went on inexorably, "you're all hot and 
wet, I can feel it ..."

A crimson blush spread over Betty's face. She did like it, there was no 
denying it. And now Harvey knew. He knew that she liked it. Oh dear 
God, what must he think of her?

"It's only natural, honey," Harvey went on. "You're starved for love. 
Doug has been neglecting you and it's time someone paid some attention 
to your beautiful, deprived body ..."

Betty couldn't stand it any longer. She was past fighting. She felt 
defeated already defeated by Harvey's smooth words, which were all too 
true, and by the tumult which was raging in her body. Yes, her own 
flesh was mutinying--crying out for love and attention. And she 
couldn't fight it!

Harvey sensed her inner struggle and felt a surge of victory. It won't 
be long now, he told himself cheerfully, but I just hope that Jean 
won't come back too soon and spoil it all! It had been Jean's idea in 
the first place to pretend that the book was lost, so as to have an 
excuse to leave him alone with Betty, but Harvey was afraid that she 
wouldn't realize how hard it was to win over the frustrated young wife. 
Well, he'd just have to take a chance ...

His questing fingers inched forward another millimeter and came into 
exhilarating contact with the pulsating outer folds of her tremulous 
pussy. He could feel the slight throbbing of the swollen outer lips, 
fringed with a thin line of hairs, and then, without hesitation, he 
plunged his middle finger up into the moist darkness of her unresisting 
cunt.

"Aaaaagggghh ... Nooooo ..." Betty sobbed helplessly, wriggling her 
buttocks in a frantic but belated attempt to resist.

She was in a daze that she couldn't break out of. With one part of her 
mind, she realized that Peterson was stroking and caressing her vagina, 
but with the other she realized nothing but the fact that he was 
comforting her when she badly needed it, and offering solace where Doug 
had failed to do so. And she couldn't refuse that. She needed it too 
badly.

Harvey continued to probe the quivering wet folds and creases of her 
sensitively squirming vagina, plunging deeper into the warm, open 
flesh. Her thighs spread now a little of their own accord and he began 
to ease down her confining panties, leaving them dangling above her 
knees. Her dress was bunched up above her hips, leaving the tingling 
plane of her loins exposed and unprotected. Ruthlessly, his fingers 
played in the velvety softness of her openly spread cunt, making her 
gyrate and twist with mingled feelings.

Suddenly, his middle finger came into contact with the hard little knob 
of her clitoris and began instantly to titillate the erogenous little 
bud.

"Ooooohhhh ..." Betty sighed, unable to believe that little wisps of 
pleasure were curling around deep inside her. She was beginning to 
enjoy Peterson's lewd fingering! At first, she didn't believe it 
possible, but her writhing moaning body was ample evidence. Her brain, 
with all its feeble, warning messages was totally ignored, and sensual 
rule was the order.

"Mmmmmmnnnn ... aaaaahhhh ..." she gasped again, giving herself over 
completely to a greater power. She was devoid of resistance now. She 
had no option but to acquiesce, and it was obvious that her body did 
not mind this submission. Involuntarily, her pelvis began to grind 
rhythmically up against his nakedly swirling fingers, forcing the 
desire-ridden flesh against the pleasure-giving digits.

Harvey's fingers, darting and flicking with expert agility began to 
tickle gently at the tiny fluted inner lips which surrounded the 
pulsing, star-shaped entrance to her helplessly aroused body. Betty 
mewled with new excitement as they brushed tantalizingly against the 
delicate, fragile flesh, and then, with sudden abruptness, he plunged 
them into the wet, clinging cuntal sheath.

"AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH ..." Betty sobbed in mingled surprise and pleasure, 
and immediately, the soft, tender inner walls began to milk voraciously 
at the dipping fingers, closing in on them like a velvet glove. Harvey 
worked his fingers smoothly, expertly in and out of the hungrily 
welcoming channel in simulation of fucking, filling the room with lewd, 
wet, sluicing sounds.

Betty was like a madwoman now, twisting and flailing wantonly on the 
sofa, her thighs lasciviously splayed, her softly rounded buttocks 
grinding incessantly into the yielding cushions. Hoarse cries of lust 
escaped her lips, but Betty was beyond caring. She knew that Jean might 
return at any moment, but it was of no importance. All that mattered 
was the unbelievable spasms of pleasure which were shooting through her 
with lightning speed, emanating from the fiery, tingling zone of her 
wildly excited vagina.

Harvey's fingers were wonderful givers of unbelievable pleasure as they 
plunged recklessly into the openly presented mouth to her defenseless 
belly. Urged on by the rising tide of her passion, she pounded her 
turgid little clitoris against his hand while at the same time trying 
to coax the driving fingers further and deeper into her greedily 
clasping cuntal sheath.

She was near to climaxing and she knew that she couldn't hold out much 
longer. Pleasure, in maximum force, was building up to such a pitch 
inside her that she knew she must cum soon or explode. And, at last ...

"Oh God! I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Oh God, I'm cumming!" she chanted 
insanely, her body flailing and thrashing out of all control as wave 
after wave of undefinable pleasure washed over her like breakers on a 
beach, tossing and tumbling her in their foaming wake as they brought 
her to new heights of ecstasy each time. She had never experienced 
anything like the tremendous power of this release and all her tension 
seemed to pour from her body, leaving it limp and exhausted, only to be 
tightened as a new flood of pleasure cascaded over her. Her head seemed 
to be going round and round and she felt as if she was in some kind of 
limbo, waiting to be put back together again with the body which was 
feeling so much sensual excitement.

Finally, the tremors began to subside, leaving her quivering and 
trembling like an aspen leaf. The room began to spin around her and she 
gratefully sank back on the sofa, only vaguely aware that Harvey was 
leaving. She wanted to call him back, but she didn't quite know why, 
but in a few seconds, he was gone, and she was left alone with the 
dying embers of her fiery orgasm.



Chapter 5


The next few days were sheer torture for Betty. Every waking moment, 
her brain was taunted with images of her wanton submission to Harvey 
Peterson's lewd fingering, and her ears seemed to be filled with her 
lascivious moans of pleasure. She couldn't seem to focus her attention 
on anything, and she couldn't shake loose from her brain the horrible 
memory of how she had acquiesced so easily to the modeling agent's 
manipulation. But even that wasn't the worst part, as far as Betty was 
concerned. If she had merely allowed Harvey to stroke her genitals, she 
wouldn't feel such self disgust and loathing, but she had enjoyed the 
lewd act to such an extent that she could not forgive herself. The very 
basic tenets of her upbringing balked at this betrayal by her body, and 
a cloud of humiliation seemed to follow her wherever she went.

The one thing that gave her a slight feeling of relief was that Doug 
didn't seem to notice anything. Betty was sure that her guilt was 
written all over her face, but luckily she had already been in bed when 
Doug had come home that night. But during the next few days, although 
she didn't really see too much of him, he didn't make any comment and 
Betty decided that the best thing to do was to forget the whole 
business, if she could. But that proved more difficult than she 
imagined. Her conscience was haunted by the enormity of her 
transgression, while her body continued to experience a kind of buoyant 
exhilaration which she had never felt before. At times, she even found 
herself thinking almost longingly of the sensual tremors which had 
cavorted up and down her spine when Harvey had been caressing her 
vagina, but she quickly put those illicit thoughts out of her head.

Since that episode with Peterson, she found that she just couldn't face 
the morning without the soothing additive of brandy in her coffee, and 
usually she had several cups of that. It was at moments like that, when 
her body was relaxed and untense, when she began to feel the 
recollective murmurs of pleasure. The strong liquor seemed to dull her 
brain, and with it, her ever-sharp conscience, while at the same time, 
it honed the edge of her senses and emphasized the physical frustration 
she felt.

It was weeks now since Doug had touched her--ever since that time when 
he had taken her rectally--and her body, grown accustomed to a regular 
diet of love-making, was beginning to feel the deprivation. She felt 
that that was the reason for her complete and total release that day 
when Harvey had stroked and fingered her vagina. But right now, she 
knew she was in a quandary. Things were going from bad to worse in 
their marriage, and she hardly saw Doug anymore. Now this contact with 
Harvey looked like it was falling through, and she couldn't rely on 
being a model as an out from her problems. She didn't know whether she 
wanted to hear from Peterson again. On the one hand, she didn't know if 
she could face him again, after her wanton display of lust just a few 
days ago. But, on the other hand, the future he had woven for her as a 
part-time model was a very enticing one, especially in her forlorn, 
desperate state, and it would be just terrible if she had to forget all 
about it now.

However, she didn't think that Harvey would get in touch with her. How 
could he, after what he had done to her? But Betty just didn't know 
what to do. Doug didn't show signs of wanting a reconciliation, and 
although she really didn't want to, she would make the first effort, if 
she wasn't afraid of being rebuked. That was the trouble--Doug just 
didn't seem interested any more. It was obvious that he didn't care 
what she was doing or feeling, and there was no telling how long that 
state of affairs would go on. And, she reflected bitterly, the root of 
the problem lay in Doug's despicable behavior. If he hadn't brutalized 
her that night, if he hadn't forced her to submit to his disgusting 
anal intercourse, she probably would never have listened to Harvey 
Peterson for a moment. It was only because she was so upset and 
depressed over that incident that she went along with Peterson ... and 
where it had lead her?

Tears brimmed her eyes and trickled down her face. She had finished her 
second cup of coffee and brandy, and she still didn't feel an better. 
It was now four days since she had seen Harvey and had allowed herself 
to be so disgustingly used, and things seemed to be getting worse.

Dear God, what am I to do? Betty wept helplessly, unable to hide her 
misery and unhappiness any longer.

At that moment, the phone rang.

For a long second, Betty stared at the instrument, hardly able to 
believe that it was actually ringing. Probably a wrong number, she told 
herself, and then with alacrity, she leaped up and grabbed it.

"Hello!" she said breathlessly.

"Hello! Is that Betty?" It was Harvey!

The blood drained from Betty's face and her head started to reel.

"I hope you're not busy today," Harvey said quickly, "because I've got 
an assignment for you tomorrow."

"An assignment?" Betty echoed, her brain racing.

"Yes, at 9:30 tomorrow morning. And you're to wear their clothes, so 
you've got to go for a fitting today. You'll be paid half your hourly 
fee for that. Can you make it at 12 noon today?"

Betty was speechless. Her thoughts divided abruptly in her dazed brain 
and she didn't know what to say. She had an assignment, tomorrow! She 
just couldn't believe it ... but how could Harvey call her like that, 
without any word or reference to what happened.

"Well, can you make it?" Harvey barked impatiently.

"Harvey, I don't ..." Betty stammered, still not knowing what answer to 
give. Oh God, she'd love to take the job, but shouldn't she just 
disassociate herself completely from Peterson?

"Look, let me put it this way. The client, Nor-Dansk Furniture, are 
only just sold on you. They originally picked a blonde because of the 
Scandinavian image, but I sold them on the idea of a redhead as a 
gimmick. Now if you don't want it, or are you going to be choosy, 
they'll jump for the blonde!"

No, I couldn't bear to lose it, Betty thought immediately. There's no 
harm in it ... I probably won't see Harvey again for a long time, and 
it is just what I want ... a chance to break into modeling.

"Okay, Harvey, I'll be there ..." Betty said breathlessly.

"Good girl," Harvey said, and gave her an address in one of the best 
sections of town. "All right, I'll see you at noon," he said as he hung 
up.

For a moment, Betty was stunned with her good news. She was going to be 
a model! A glance at the clock told her she had only an hour to get 
there, and she hurried into the bedroom. Then she recalled Harvey's 
parting shot. He'd be there! Trepidation filled Betty's heart. Harvey 
would be there, and she'd have to face him again.

But she wouldn't back out. She had to see him again sooner or later, 
and besides, there was bound to be other people there. No, she'd have 
to take the plunge. After all, that was what life was all about. What 
happened a few days ago was all a mistake. If Harvey tried anything 
like that again, she'd let him know where she stood ...

*   *   *

Harvey Peterson, noting that it was almost noon, poured himself a drink 
and offered one to Jean. Betty would be here at any moment and if she 
saw that they were already drinking, she'd accept one more willingly. 
She really swallowed everything I told her, he congratulated himself. 
Still, he had to admit that he was feeling a little nervous. But that 
was not surprising. Betty was one hell of a woman and he didn't want to 
slip up. Of course, the client had been thrilled when they saw the 
shots of her and had wanted her immediately but Harvey thought he'd 
throw that bit in about the blonde to make the bait more appetizing. 
With hesitant types like Betty, you couldn't be too careful. He hadn't 
really been surprised at Nor-Dansk Furniture's wild response to the 
shots, and had hedged that he had to see if she was available. Well, if 
things worked out his way this afternoon, he just might get Betty to do 
the ad for them. After all, it would keep her happy and would result in 
a nice, fat fee for him.

At that moment, the doorbell sounded and Harvey knew that it was Betty. 
She was wearing a very elegant pantsuit and appeared poised and calm. 
But she seemed surprised that there was no one else but himself and 
Jean there.

"In cases like this, when we're in a real hurry, Jean and I just pick 
up the outfits from the client and fit them here in my apartment. It 
saves time and a lot of trouble."

Betty thought the explanation plausible and greeted Jean warmly. There 
was a sort of rapport between the two women and Betty was genuinely 
glad to see the older woman again.

"Any problems with fitting, Jean can handle it," Harvey assured her, 
and then offered her a drink.

"But shouldn't we ..." she began hesitantly.

"A quick drink will loosen you up," Peterson told her and poured her a 
double Scotch.

Betty accepted it and sat beside Jean on the sofa.

"The ad is to be built around an elegant sitting room, with Nor-Dansk 
furniture the main attraction. But they want to have a very stunning 
woman, who is obviously getting ready to entertain some guests, to 
adorn the furniture. And that's where you, and these dresses," pointing 
to several long evening gowns, "come in!"

"They're beautiful!" Betty gasped in awe.

"The client thinks you're far more beautiful," Harvey said truthfully. 
"Now if you're ready, Jean can help you into one of the dresses. Try 
the silver lame one first."

Betty, when she stood up, found that she almost lost her balance and 
had to cling to the other woman for support. Oh God, what did I drink? 
she wondered as she stumbled over to the other room. Her head seemed to 
be reeling and she was glad that Jean was helping her, as the dress was 
tight and close-fitting. But when it was finally on, it looked as if it 
had been molded to her body. Jean wouldn't let her wear a brassiere, 
and the low, deep "vee" in front emphasized her voluptuously full 
breasts. There was a split, almost thigh-high in one side and the 
shimmering material sparkled and glinted as she moved. Jean wouldn't 
allow her to wear panties or stockings, either, saying that unless they 
were specially made, they would spoil the lines of the dress. Betty had 
felt strange about stripping completely naked in front of the other 
girl, but Jean didn't even seem to notice. She added a few touches to 
Betty's mane of tawny hair and then ushered her out to where Harvey was 
waiting.

Betty had forgotten almost about her incident with Harvey because he 
had been so pleasant, and so businesslike, but now, as she stepped into 
the living room, clad in the sexy, provocative dress, the memory of her 
submission and arousal came flooding back and crimsoned her face with 
embarrassment. Harvey's eyes seemed to devour her body, feasting on her 
sensual cleavage, riveting on the smooth sweep of her graceful hips.

"Pretty good ... pretty good ..." he said at length, after he had 
instructed her to turn slowly around. "But I think the black might be 
better!"

"I think this one is pretty spectacular," Jean said, and Betty had to 
agree with her.

"No, let's try the black," Harvey insisted. "After all; you don't want 
to outshine the furniture!"

Jean moved towards Betty and began to pull down the zipper of the 
dress.

"But ... but ..." Betty said startled, as she felt the edges of the 
dress fall away from her back. "Let's go into the other room!" she 
finished quickly.

"Why, honey?" Harvey sniggered. "I already know all your secrets ..."

Betty felt a fiery blush creeping up her face. What did he mean? He had 
seen her body naked, when he had taken those photographs, but was he 
referring to the other day when he had fingered her pussy?

"I'd rather change in the other room," she said meekly, turning towards 
the door.

"Oh, don't be silly, Betty," Jean said briskly, easing down the dress, 
revealing Betty's proudly upswept breasts, the nipples already stiff 
and erect.

"Please, Jean," Betty began, tears starting to her eyes.

"You've got nothing to hide, have you?" Harvey said, his voice vaguely 
sneering.

Betty felt as if she had been turned to stone, and she stood motionless 
as Jean slipped the dress down over her hips. Numbly, she stepped out 
of it, and stood there, naked and shivering.

"Go get that black number, will you, Jean?" Harvey asked.

"Why, where is it?" Betty asked, suddenly not wanting to be alone with 
Harvey.

"It's just out in the car; I won't be a moment," Jean replied, and 
Betty was aware of mounting panic. This was just like the other time, 
when Jean had left on a sudden pretext. Betty had been left alone with 
Harvey ...

She turned wild, staring eyes on him, as if seeing him for the first 
time.

"Don't worry," Harvey said smoothly, "Jean'll be back in a moment. In 
the meantime, just relax. Sit down and make yourself comfortable ..."

As if in a daze, Betty sat down on the sofa, and as she did so, Harvey 
moved very close to her, and then, he was kissing her! For a moment, 
she was too surprised to do anything as his lips bruised down on hers, 
and his tongue shot between her unresisting teeth. His arms were tight 
around her and his jacket felt rough on her bare, naked flesh.

"Stop it! Stop it!" she said at last, recovering her equilibrium, 
desperately drumming at his chest.

"Why should I?" Harvey leered. "Just relax and you'll enjoy it!"

"Leave me alone! Get away from me or I'll scream!"

Harvey laughed, a coarse, triumphant laugh.

"What if someone comes running after you scream? What then?" Betty 
stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"They'll see you sitting here, completely naked, and what'll they 
think?" he elaborated gleefully.

Realization dawned on Betty. He had trapped her ... but what was he 
going to do to her?

"What do you want from me?" she said tonelessly.

"Just do as I say, honey, and everything will be all right," Harvey 
replied, his hand casually fondling the frustratedly trembling mound of 
her breast.

"And if I don't?" Betty asked defiantly.

"Mmm ... your precious Doug might be very interested in those shots I 
took of you a couple of weeks back ..."

"You wouldn't!" Betty hissed disbelievingly. "You wouldn't show them to 
my husband!"

"Sure I would ... if you don't go along with what I want!"

"And what do you want?" Betty asked in a frail whisper.

"Why, nothing more than a taste of that sweet little cunt of yours!" 
Harvey said lasciviously, his hand dropping to the flat plane of her 
stomach, and further still to tangle among the first straying wisps of 
her red pussy hair.

Betty's head swam. Oh God, it couldn't be true. What had she let 
herself in for?

"Now honey, you might just as well do as I say ... after all, you might 
enjoy it!"

"Enjoy it?" Betty hissed vehemently. "Never! I'd rather die!"

"Well, well, listen to who's talking. It seems to me as if you didn't 
mind too much when my fingers were rummaging around in your cunt a few 
days back!" Harvey spat furiously.

Betty's face blanched and self-loathing welled up inside her. He was 
right, of course. She had enjoyed his lewd handling. What must he think 
of her? No wonder he thought he could get away with anything with her 
...

"Please, Harvey," she began again in a different vein. "let me go. It 
doesn't matter if I don't get the job. Only don't touch me, please ..."

"You don't seem to realize, honey, that I hold all the cards. Whether 
or not you get the assignment depends on me, and don't you forge it. 
And as for not touching you, remember that the evidence against you 
looks pretty condemning ... those nudie shots, you here naked with me 
now ..."

Betty closed her eyes to blot out the picture she portrayed. Foolishly, 
she had let her imagination run away with her, had let herself be 
persuaded into posing nude for this unscrupulous man. Now he had her in 
his power ... and there was nothing she could do.

She gasped suddenly as she felt his fingers dip between her creamy 
thighs, and felt the first searing contact between his hand and the 
gently pulsing outer flesh of her trembling vagina.

"Oh nooo ... stop ..." she gasped helplessly as his fingers continued 
to probe and search among the wet, velvety folds, probing deeper and 
more insistently with each passing second. Futilely, she tried to clamp 
her alabaster-white thighs together, but it was no use. He was the one 
in control; he had her in his power.

"Now, baby, you can't tell me you don't like it ..." Harvey leered, his 
eyes lighting with lust as he stared down at the naked woman.

His words cut Betty to the quick. Because she couldn't deny it. Her 
body was responding in exactly the same way as it had a few days ago 
... she was beginning to get aroused from his illicit fondling. 
Although her brain reeled with the enormity of what was happening, and 
disgust and utter mortification flooded through her veins, her body 
reacted unquestionably in a sensual, wanton tremor of delight. She 
wanted to deny it, to cry out that he was wrong, that she wasn't 
enjoying it, but she couldn't. Because she was, and he knew it! There 
was no use fighting it. He had her in his power not only by virtue of 
the weapon of the photographs and his threatened blackmail, but also by 
the force of pleasure he was giving her with his nakedly swirling 
fingers. Involuntarily, her thighs crept farther apart, revealing the 
moist pink slit of her quivering pussy to his marauding digits. 
Pleasure surged through her, lifting her up on to a magical plane of 
ecstasy, and her whole body took on a rhythmic churning as low mewls of 
pleasure flowed unchecked from her mouth.

"Open your eyes, honey, and look see what daddy has for you ..." Harvey 
rasped huskily, and Betty unconsciously responded to his summons.

A startled gasp escaped her lips as she stared at the huge, throbbing 
shaft of his fully erect penis, held obscenely in his free hand. She 
couldn't take her eyes off it. She hadn't imagined that anything could 
be so big. It looked powerful and strong, and it was an angry red color 
from the blood that was pumping lustfully through it.

"No, please, Harvey," she whimpered piteously, frightened at the 
grotesque size and apprehensive of what was to come.

At that moment, the door opened, and Jean walked in.

Oh thank God! Betty gasped silently. Now he'll have to stop ... Jean 
will help me, and I'll just put on my clothes and leave, and never have 
to see Harvey again. Oh thank goodness, she came back in time ...

"Well, Harvey, you certainly didn't waste any time!" Jean said 
cheerfully, staring at the naked outstretched redhead on the sofa, and 
glancing briefly at the hard, heavy protuberance of Peterson's cock.

Oh God, what does she mean? Why isn't she doing something? Betty 
thought wildly.

"I'm a fast worker, you know that, Jean," Harvey laughed, fondling his 
lust-engorged penis between his fingers.

"I'm sure you got lots of help," Jean retorted. "Betty looks as if 
she's really hot for you!"

Betty felt like screaming out No! No! It's not like that! But her mouth 
was dry and no words would come. She couldn't believe that Jean thought 
she wanted this. But what else could Jean think? She, Betty, was lying 
spread-eagled on the couch, the openly receptive slit of her vagina 
lewdly presented, while Harvey hovered above her, his blood-inflated 
penis outstretched and ready. Betty's last avenue of retreat slammed 
shut. No one could help her now. If she appealed to Jean, the other 
woman probably wouldn't believe her. There was nothing she could do!

She drew in her breath sharply when she felt the hard, unyielding flesh 
of Harvey's poised penis nudging at the softly quivering outer lips of 
her vagina. She tried to draw back, but the couch confined her. She 
couldn't close her thighs, because Harvey was crouched up between them.

"Nooo, Harvey, please ..." she begged softly, and then ...

"AAAAGGGGHHH ... NOOOOOOOO ..." she wailed aloud as Harvey pushed 
relentlessly forward, straining almost unbearably the fragile tissues 
of her cuntal hole. He hesitated then, for a moment, gathering his 
strength, pushing the burgeoning head of his hunger-distended shaft 
past the protecting, petal-shaped opening.

"OH GOD ... YOU'RE KILLING ME ..." Betty sobbed as the giant rod 
cleaved into her unprepared flesh, forcing its way up into the dry, 
clinging passage. Without hesitation, Harvey continued to plunge 
forward, the hard, long tube of his cock splitting the cringing inner 
walls with brutal intensity.

"Uuuuugggghhhhnnn ... aaaaahhhh ..." Betty whimpered, her thighs 
cruelly spread, her futilely resisting vaginal sheath assaulted 
unmercifully by the lust-bloated hardness of Harvey's hard-driving 
penis. He'll tear my vagina she thought fearfully as he finally hit 
bottom, the heavy, sperm-laden sac of his testicles slapping lewdly 
against the upraised crevice of her buttocks. She could feel the 
rubbery head nudging against the tender tip of her cervix and she 
wanted to cry out against this unwanted ravishment. The knowledge that 
Jean Wembley was watching her debasement added to her humiliation, and 
she wondered again how she had let herself be manipulated in this way. 
Oh God, what a fool I am, she thought bitterly, biting her lip as 
Harvey began to withdraw, pulling little pink tendrils of fragile pussy 
flesh out with his rock-hard shaft as it withdrew. Then he surged 
forward again, this time burying his long, lunging cock to the hilt 
with one deep, hard stroke.

"Aaaaaarrrrhhh ... uuummmmppphhhh ..." Betty gasped again as all the 
breath was forced from her body. But at last, her feminine juices began 
to secrete, and Harvey was able to begin a rhythmic sawing in and out. 
His hands tightened on her hips, holding her firmly in place as he 
labored over her. He drove nakedly up between her widespread legs, 
sinking his passion-distended shaft completely in her moistly clinging 
cunt, and then withdrawing almost totally, until just the hard, 
mushrooming head was still imbedded in the tight pussy-hole.

And then the thing that Betty had never believed possible, happened. At 
first, she did not believe it; couldn't bring herself to accept the 
reality of what was happening. But after a few moments, she just 
couldn't hide it any longer. It was completely obvious that she was 
beginning to enjoy being fucked by Harvey!

A deep shuddering tremor shook her body and then it began a rolling 
churning of its own violation, little sparks of pleasure burst into 
raging flames deep between her legs and her whole body was bathed in a 
warm flood of intense arousal.

At first, out of deep mortification, she tried to hide it, tried to 
still the quivering between her legs. But her desire and passion was 
more powerful than her will power and she couldn't hold back any 
longer.

"Mmmmmmnnnnn ..." she sighed, spiraling her pelvis upward to receive 
Harvey's deep inthrusts, her heated cunt flowering open in eager 
acceptance. Cautiously, her hands crept up and encircled Harvey's neck, 
pulling him hard down on her palpitating breasts, and in a daze, she 
moved her mouth up to clamp on his, her tongue hungrily flicking 
between his teeth. Passion raged out of control in her love-starved 
body, and she locked her ankles around his lower back, and clung to him 
with a new voraciousness. Suddenly, she couldn't seem to get enough of 
his pleasure-giving male body. She wanted to infuse every part of him. 
The heady muskiness of his heated flesh assailed her nostrils and made 
them flare with new-found pleasure, and her being and senses were 
united in a quest for ultimate satisfaction.

All doubts and fears were forgotten in the mad rush of sensual 
excitement. She had no idea it could be like this. Certainly it never 
was with Doug. She had never responded like this, never felt the wild 
tremors of pleasure she was feeling now. Even the fact that Jean was 
watching her wanton behavior gave her an illicit thrill, and nurtured 
an exhibitionistic streak inside her that she never knew she possessed. 
She didn't care anymore that this lascivious coupling with a man who 
was not her husband might be wrong. She only knew that somehow he had 
the wonderful key that was unlocking her uninhibited responses, and 
somehow she couldn't feel that making use of that key was wrong.

Their bodies were slapping wetly together in rising cadence. They clung 
to each other in mutual desire, their flesh warm and heated with 
passion. They bucked and rocked as one, united where his lust-maddened 
cock drove incessantly up into the hungrily clasping depths of her 
eager cunt.

"You sure know how to fuck, Betty ..." Harvey gasped between clenched 
teeth, and his lewd praise gave her an added tingle of excitement. 
Fucking. Yes, that was what she was doing, fucking another man ... and 
she was enjoying it.

Betty's thoughts took on a kaleidoscopic image of how she must appear, 
naked, perspiring, flushed with lust, her head thrown back, her long 
russet hair streaming over her voluptuously curved back. Now, in one 
moment, all her thoughts and feelings seemed to converge on the pivotal 
point there between her legs, and she knew instantly that she was 
almost ready to climax. Her first real orgasm, and it was with another 
man ... not her husband! But Betty didn't care who or how she was 
getting this unbelievable pleasure. The main thing was that she was at 
last about to receive it. That she wasn't frigid, like she had so often 
feared she was. No, she was a full-blooded real woman, and Harvey was 
the only one to discover it.

Suddenly, all rational thought was extinguished as a great rush of warm 
sensual excitement flooded over her body, making her feel as if she was 
drifting on the tide of some warm, calm sea.

"Ooooooohhhhh ... I'm cumming! Oh God, Harvey, I'm cumming!" she 
shrieked suddenly, not recognizing her own passion-distorted voice. The 
words seemed to hang in the still air above her for a moment before 
crashing down to resound and echo a hundredfold in her ears, reflecting 
the rise and fall of the tiny waves of multiple pleasure crashing 
around inside her feverish body.

"Ooooohhhh! Ooooohhhh! Ooooohhhh!" she sobbed helplessly, her 
curvaceous young body undulating with the force of her continuing 
orgasm.

In the back of her brain, she realized that Harvey was climaxing too, 
and then he was pounding against her with unbelievable fury, battering 
his loins against her upraised openly-spread cunt.

"I'm cumming too! Keep fuckingg ... Aaaaaghhh ..." Betty felt the first 
spurt of seething hot sperm as Harvey called out wildly, and it jetted 
in a thick stream into the hidden recesses of her hungrily milking 
pussy. Greedily, her inner sheath clutched at the flowing fluid, 
absorbing it all in its heated darkness, and Betty was filled with a 
strange, satiated peace. The hot, white sperm that poured into her 
helplessly flooded little belly seemed to infuse her with warm 
relaxation, and she was able at last to lie back, breathing deeply and 
heavily with complete satisfaction.

At last, Harvey's twitching cock began to deflate inside her wet, 
steaming passage and slipped harmlessly from between her legs, leaving 
her empty once more. But she was changed now. She'd never be the same 
again. Harvey had truly liberated her, something that her own husband 
couldn't do ... and she wouldn't have missed this for anything. Now, 
come what may, she was forever free from the shackles of prudery, and 
she felt a real debt of gratitude to Harvey, which she knew wouldn't 
easily be erased.



Chapter 6


Doug was beginning to regret that he had called and invited Selma for 
lunch. Not that he didn't want to see her, of course, but she was so 
happy and excited, looking on this as an extra special treat, because 
usually they only saw each other in the evening. Now he dreaded telling 
her the real reason for wanting to see her. They were sitting lingering 
over liqueurs and Doug knew he had to take the plunge.

Drawing a deep breath, he began.

"Selma, I've something to tell you!"

Selma looked at him in surprise, amazed at his intensity, but 
immediately she sensed that something was wrong.

"What is it?" she said apprehensively.

"I ... we've got to stop seeing each other!" It was said, but instead 
of feeling relief, he was aware only of misery, and the look on Selma's 
face didn't help any, either.

"What?" she hissed, her voice low and angry.

"I just can't see you any more ..."

"Well, this is an interesting new development," Selma said icily, her 
fingers toying with the tiny glass. "Your charming wife must have found 
out about us. Is that it?"

"No, it isn't," Doug gulped. "But to tell the truth, I'm afraid she 
might, and I've hurt her enough without this."

"So your conscience is beginning to bother you at last!" Selma snapped, 
heedless of the other diners in the restaurant.

Doug colored. He'd decided to break off with his mistress several days 
ago, but couldn't find the courage to do so. He didn't really want to 
stop seeing her, but he had been involved with her now for nearly two 
months, and in all that time, things had gone from bad to worse with 
Betty. He knew he had started it all by fucking her in the ass that one 
night, and things hadn't been the same since. At first, he noticed that 
Betty was depressed and irritable, but over the past couple of weeks, 
she seemed suddenly to have changed. She said she had a new part time 
job, and bought new, fashionable clothes, and she seemed hardly to be 
home at all. Now that the tables were turned on him, Doug didn't like 
it at all and decided that he'd rather have the old Betty back ... even 
if it mean severing his relationship with Selma.

"So it's all over," Selma breathed angrily, her eyes flashing. A cold 
rage was seething through her and she was aware of a consuming hatred 
for her lover. She had really enjoyed her affair with Doug. He was one 
of the best lovers she'd ever had and she had reveled in his 
admiration. He seemed to be really crazy about her too, and she had 
even begun to entertain thoughts of something permanent ...

"You bastard!" she hissed viciously. Men were all the same. They didn't 
mind having affairs, and told their mistresses how fabulous they were, 
but when the little woman at home lifted her finger, no matter how 
nagging or difficult a wife she might be, they all went running back 
with their tails between their legs.

"Selma, everyone is looking at us," Doug said, his face reddening.

"I don't give a damn who's looking or listening," Selma spat, her voice 
rising. "You can't just throw me over like this. I deserve something 
better."

"I'm really sorry," Doug said earnestly, "but ..."

"Don't "but" me, you lousy rat," Selma shrilled, "you just want to go 
back to that bitch of a wife of yours, and after all you told me about 
her, how she was frigid, how she was a nagging slut ..."

Doug felt ready to sink into the ground. Everyone in the restaurant was 
looking at them and Selma's voice was strident and perfectly audible.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," he said sharply, his fingers digging 
into her forearm. With relief, she responded to his order, and meekly 
followed him out of the restaurant. That's one place I'll never go to 
again, Doug vowed as he stepped out into the light.

"Now look, Selma, I'm sorry we have to part like this," he said 
threateningly, "but if you're going to make another scene, I'm going to 
leave you right here on the pavement."

"Go on, run, you goddamned bastard," she railed, "but don't think 
you're getting off so easily. I'll pay you back for leaving me in the 
lurch like this, don't you worry!"

Furious, Doug turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Selma's 
threats to disintegrate behind him in the street's busy atmosphere.

*   *   *

"Okay, spread those long legs of yours, honey," Harvey rasped. "Daddy's 
got a new treat for you today!"

Betty lay back luxuriantly on the huge bed in Harvey's apartment and 
obediently parted her long, slender legs. The deep bed felt like soft 
billows of cloud, and Betty was only too glad to give herself over to 
her lover's attentions. She had grown accustomed to him over the last 
month or so, or rather, her body had.

She didn't know what she'd do now without Harvey. He seemed to fill her 
days and undoubtedly made life worth living again. In fact, her entire 
life seemed to have undergone a radical change, and it was all due to 
Harvey. The most important thing of all, of course, was the fact that 
he had succeeded in awakening her sexually, and actually continued to 
arouse and excite her. For, after that day when he had tricked her into 
submitting, she found she looked forward to when she could see him 
again. Harvey himself was just as wound up about her, and managed to 
see her almost every day. Usually Jean was with him, and after awhile, 
Harvey introduced Betty to threesomes. At first, she was shocked, but 
when she found that the fun was tripled, she began to like being 
involved in a trio.

Another fringe benefit of being involved with Harvey was that she was 
actually a working model! Harvey managed to get her plenty of jobs, 
starting, of course, with the Nor-Dansk commercial. She really enjoyed 
her work, and although it was only part time, she still found it 
tiring. However, her hourly rate was very good and she was able to buy 
lots of new clothes. The only dim spot of the horizon was Doug. Things 
just weren't working out and she got a depressing, unhappy feeling 
every time she thought about her husband. But I won't think about him 
now, she told herself, instead I'll think only about Harvey ...

Harvey settled himself between Betty's widespread thighs and stared at 
the tempting furrow of her fully exposed vagina. He could see the pink 
flesh glistening wetly between the slightly swollen outer lips, and he 
could just barely make out the burgeoning tip of her clitoris. 
Carefully, he placed a finger and thumb on each fleshy fold and gently 
drew them apart, baring the petal-shaped opening, pulsing softly 
between the purplish, fluted inner lips. He heard Betty draw in her 
breath quickly, and then before she had time to realize what was 
happening, he reached down and flicked out with his long, wet tongue.

"Aaaaahhh! Aaaahhh! AAaaaaggghhh ...!" Betty sobbed, flailing her hips 
wildly. She hadn't realized until the very last moment that this was 
what Harvey had in mind, but it was too late now to stop him. So this 
was the special treat! She had never let him do this to her, even 
though he had often wanted to, and she ha seen him do it to Jean. But 
somehow, to her, it was wrong, almost perverted, and she hadn't allowed 
it. Now, Harvey was kissing her down there!

Harvey continued to swipe at the moistening pussy split with his pink, 
darting tongue. He could taste the sweet cunt-taste of her pussy and 
inhaled her feminine perfume as he bent eagerly to his task. 
Tentatively, he furled his tongue and began to dip it into the folds 
and recesses of her sensitively squirming pussy, probing deeper and 
harder into the velvety softness. He swirled it round and round, 
holding her in place by a vise-like grip on her thighs.

"Nooooo dooon't ..." Betty wailed helplessly, still unable to accept 
the illicit tonguing. But even as she protested, she became aware of 
new, but familiar sensations tingling deep inside her. Her body, honed 
to a fine edge of pleasure over the past weeks, reacted instinctively 
to this new variation, and began to respond to the sensual flicking of 
Harvey's deft tongue.

Slowly, her cream-white thighs began to spread further apart, revealing 
more and more of the gleaming wet pinkness of her hungrily alive cunt. 
A long tremor curved her spine and sent little shock-waves of pleasure 
curling out to the very ends of her fingers and toes and she was aware 
of a red blush suffusing her face. Involuntarily, she flexed her 
trembling vaginal mound, forcing the searingly sensitive flesh of her 
pussy against the furiously working length of Harvey's wet tongue.

"Mmmmmmmnnnnn ..." she sighed ecstatically as spasm after spasm of 
mounting pleasure convulsed through her. Oh God, it was good, this 
licking and slavering at her cunt. She had no idea it could be so good 
... why had she waited so long to experience it?

Harvey sensed her acceptance with excitement. He knew that she couldn't 
hold out for long, not the way she was now. Sometimes she hardly seemed 
like the same woman to him. She was absolutely voracious now that he 
had awakened her, and her appetite was equal only to his own. He felt 
proud of his protegee and was glad that she was accepting this oral 
form of lovemaking.

Diligently, he continued to thrust his stiffened tongue into the 
darkness of her writhing pussy, until he came into contact with the 
burgeoning bud of her erect little clitoris.

"Aaaaaarrrrrgggghhhh ..." Betty sobbed, her hips grinding helplessly 
against the bed, as he trapped the erogenous little bud between his 
teeth and began to titillate it with his swirling tongue. He could feel 
it hardening and stiffening under his swipes, and could feel the 
furious pulsating of the blood through it too. Then, finally, he 
released it and searched lower with his tongue, trailing it along the 
fluted edges of the inner cunt-lips, brushing playfully against the 
star-shaped pussy-hole.

Betty's body was moist with perspiration, and she was mewling 
incessantly. Her ivory thighs clamped viciously against Harvey's face, 
holding him against the tingling plane of her vagina as the sensitive 
flesh of her pussy rimmed his nose and mouth. Her nipples felt taut and 
stretched in passion, and her lips were dry and parched. She seemed 
beset by a feverish shuddering, and knew that what she was feeling now 
was a completely new kind of excitement, totally different from 
anything she had experienced before. She moaned again as she felt 
Harvey's expertly darting tongue flick eagerly at the clasping edges of 
her pussy orifice, tantalizing them almost beyond belief.

Then, suddenly, Harvey stiffened his probing organ and without 
hesitation rammed it headlong into the churning passage of her cuntal 
sheath.

"Oh God ... AAAARRRRRHHHH ..." Betty cried as she flailed her buttocks 
wildly as a reaction to the new, weird sensations. Almost immediately, 
her inner channel began a hungry clasping and milking of the buried 
tongue, almost pulling it out of its moorings in its greedy attempt to 
assimilate it completely. Harvey continued to thrust wildly in 
imitation of fucking, stabbing with the pseudo-phallus, rotating it in 
the grasping softness of her wet, steaming pussy.

He worked slavelike up between her outstretched legs, his face bathed 
in moisture, his furiously licking tongue slavering as he sought to 
give her the maximum pleasure. He could feel the tremors that were 
emanating from her frenzied, lust-demented cunt vibrating throughout 
the length of her creamy, lithe body, and her entire frame shook and 
undulated with the convulsive spasms of her passion.

Betty was in ecstasy. Her incoherent moans filled the room and her hips 
were thrashing wildly against the bed, her inner vaginal passage 
contracting rhythmically around the wet, slippery tongue sawing in and 
out. She was sure that she must climax soon, but yet, she wanted this 
incredible experience to go on forever, even though she knew she 
couldn't bear the unbelievable intensity if it did. Vaguely, she was 
aware of the door opening, and realized that Jean must have come back. 
The thought that perhaps the other woman was watching her in this lewd, 
wanton pose did not disturb her; in fact, it gave her a thrill of added 
illicit pleasure.

Sometimes, she could hardly believe that she herself was the same 
person as she used to be. Her mind had seemingly enlarged to accept all 
variations of physical pleasure, and she was ready for anything. Harvey 
had taught her that anything that felt good and exciting between two or 
more people couldn't be bad, and she agreed with this tenet. She just 
couldn't understand how she could have allowed herself to go on as she 
did before, living a sort of half-life. She was aware of new movement 
on the bed, and her brain quickly assumed that Jean had sat down beside 
them to get a better view.

But, in the next minute, events happened so quickly that Betty wasn't 
aware at first of what was happening. She realized with sudden 
apprehension that Jean was moving closer to her, and then she was aware 
of a moist, pulsing warmth over her face, which moved inexorably 
closer, until ... Jean was actually sitting on her face!

For a moment, Betty's breath was suspended and she froze into a state 
of shock. She had never realized that anything like this could happen, 
had never visualized it happening to her!

Betty didn't know what to do. Unreality seemed to have taken over, but 
Harvey kept on licking and sucking at her heated, openly throbbing 
cunt, and the sensations of pure, passionate arousal continued to surge 
through her. But apart from that, the inescapable fact was that Jean 
was astride her face, her wet, pulsating pussy firmly planted on her 
mouth! Her soft, supple thighs gripped Betty's face in a strong grasp, 
holding her immobile. Oh God, what am I going to do now? she thought 
helplessly, her reason deserting her for a long moment.

She hovered mindlessly on the edge of indecision. But a sudden, 
piercing thought assailed her. Why stop now? The revelation burned into 
her brain like a red-hot arrow. Why hesitate now about licking Jean's 
cunt, after all you've been through? Why not pass on to the other 
woman, who was after all, her friend, the wonderful pleasurable 
sensations that Harvey was arousing in her? Why not indeed? With lurid 
suddenness, the idea of kissing another woman's pussy while her lover 
was slavering and groveling between her own legs, struck Betty with the 
force of a mailed fist.

And, without giving herself time to think, she reached out tentatively 
with her tongue and dabbed at the throbbing pink openness of Jean's 
quivering pussy. It felt and tasted amazingly good and Betty was 
rewarded by a sobbing moan from Jean, who began to screw her moistly 
pulsing pussy down on Betty's now-eager mouth. Again, Betty reached out 
with her tongue and began to swipe carefully at the wetly squirming 
flesh, dipping her organ deeper and harder each time into the velvety 
folds. She began to savor the sweet taste of the other woman's vagina, 
and inhaled the exotic fragrance of her redolent cunt.

She stiffened her tongue and burrowed it incessantly into the 
sensitively writhing flesh, tasting the first flow of excitedly 
secreting feminine juices which misted down over her wet, flushed face. 
Eagerly, she sought out the hard little knob of the other woman's 
clitoris and titillated it cunningly between her teeth, and then began 
to nibble excruciatingly at the soft little inner lips which lay like a 
protective collar around the clenching star-shaped hole of her grasping 
pussy.

Betty sucked and licked ravenously at Jean's grinding pussy, just as 
Harvey, spurred on by the sight of his assistant astride his mistress's 
face, slavered lewdly between Betty's cream-white, moisture-drenched 
thighs. Jean's softly clenching buttocks were like flaccid mounds 
around Betty's chin and her ivory smooth thighs were clamped in a vise-
like grip on either side of her face. Betty moaned with mounting 
pleasure into the secret warmth of Jean's tingling cunt as the other 
woman's hands reached down and began to caress and fondle her 
palpitating breasts, tweaking the hardening little nipples between her 
fingers, adding to the tremendous swells of pleasure swirling through 
her.

Betty was reaching new heights of undreamed-of pleasure. She reveled in 
taking part in such a lascivious trio in a way she had never 
experienced before, and the idea that she was actually licking and 
kissing another woman's pussy filled her with perverted excitement. She 
had never dreamed that she, Doug's wife, would ever get involved in 
anything like this, and certainly not so wholeheartedly. But as she 
told herself again and again, she was a changed woman now, and her body 
had become accustomed to all kinds of bizarre sex.

Jean was moaning and mewling like a wild animal above her, bouncing 
around on her face with quickening jerks, and Betty realized that she 
must be approaching orgasm already. Then, suddenly, Betty felt the 
other woman's body stiffen almost like a rock, and then she seemed to 
explode in a million fragments.

"Aaaaaahhhh ... I'm cumming! Cumming! Cumming!" Jean sobbed, her body 
twisting and flailing almost out of control. Betty's face was drenched 
with her flowing secretions and she thought she'd suffocate from the 
frantic grip the other woman kept on her pussy-covered face.

But even as Jean was moaning with passionate abandon, Betty felt the 
familiar spasms begin to contort her own body. Harvey redoubled his 
efforts, forcing his exhausted tongue again and again into the 
frenetically clutching sheath of her hungrily welcoming vagina, 
swirling it around with maddening deftness.

And then, for Betty, too, the moment was there.

Her cries of intense pleasure were buried and muffled in Jean's still 
throbbing pussy, as her whole body flailed and gyrated like a top, her 
thighs viciously glued to Harvey's face, grinding her lust-swollen 
pussy against his pleasure-giving mouth.

Wave after wave of almost unbearable pleasure assailed her, and the 
full force of her warm orgasmic juices cascaded down over Harvey's 
furiously working mouth. Jean had already fallen back on the bed, her 
breath coming in ragged gasps. It seemed to Betty as if the room was 
revolving around her and she was aware of nothing but the tingling 
between her legs, which still erupted into sparks of searing ecstasy 
which showered through her aroused flesh and burned into the very core 
of her being.

When at last, her body was quiet, but still warm and flushed, she 
released her thigh-hold on her lover, and collapsed back on the bed 
beside the woman to whom she had given pleasure equal only to that 
which she herself had received.



Chapter 7


Doug felt strangely nervous as he pulled up in the driveway, and the 
sight of the strange car did nothing to soothe his apprehension. It was 
three days since he had broken off with Selma, and he had decided to 
make a real effort to patch things up with Betty. But she seemed so 
busy lately. She didn't come home until late in the evening the first 
two days, and last night, she had been so moody and preoccupied that he 
hardly dared broach the subject.

A definite change had come over her, and Doug just couldn't figure out 
what it was. It certainly wasn't just her new job or the new clothes 
she bought. She just seemed like a different woman. More mature, and 
more sensual somehow. But what was the use of this dynamic new change 
if she persisted in ignoring him? So he had determined to take the 
afternoon off from work and try to get to the bottom of things. He 
figured that she'd be at home this afternoon, and after they had solved 
the problems that lay between them, he'd take her out to dinner.

He had decided that he wouldn't mention his affair with Selma, not 
right now, anyway. He didn't think that Betty would understand, and it 
might make her distrustful of him. No, far better wait until their 
relationship was well and truly cemented again. He didn't recognize the 
automobile in the driveway, but shrugging, decided that it probably 
belonged to a girlfriend of Betty's. Whoever owned it, he just hoped 
she didn't stay too long. He had plenty to say to his wife--in private.

Letting himself in the back door, he was surprised at how silent the 
house was. He felt sure he would be greeted by feminine laughter and 
the tinkling of coffee cups.

"Betty?" he called softly, wondering where she was. A quick glance out 
at the backyard convinced him she wasn't there. Then he heard it. A 
low, almost indiscernible moan. And it seemed to be coming from the 
livingroom! The door was closed and Doug hurried over to it. His hand 
grasping the handle, he hesitated. Had he imagined it? Maybe Betty was 
in there, having a private discussion with one of her friends. He'd 
look foolish if he stalked in there. But there it was again! That 
muffled moan, almost a sob, that seemed as if someone was almost in 
pain!

And then, Doug felt as if he had been turned to stone when a loud, 
impassioned voice rang out clearly.

"Oh God, Harvey, keep licking my cunt like that! It's driving me 
crazy!"

The blood drained from his face and he stared in unadulterated horror 
at the still-closed door. Who was in there, and who had called out like 
that? Certainly it wasn't Betty--he'd know her voice anywhere. But who 
was it? Strangers who had broken in and who were now lewdly fornicating 
in his living room?

Doug had to know. He had to find out what was going on. Firmly turning 
the handle, he pushed open the door to his livingroom and stepped 
inside.

His mouth hung open in undisguised horror and his eyes seemed to glaze 
with disbelief as he stared at the lascivious sight that met his 
incredulous gaze. For a long moment, he had difficulty untangling the 
maze of wet, naked writhing bodies on the floor. He didn't recognize 
the dark-haired woman who was stretched out, naked and flat on her 
back, her legs obscenely spread to allow a stranger, a man he'd never 
seen to grovel lewdly between them. But he had no difficulty 
recognizing the long slender alabaster body stretched out half-way down 
the length of the stranger's rangy frame. The tawny red hair was 
unmistakable, but he had never seen a look like the one that wreathed 
her face as her lips ovalled around the thickly pulsating shaft of the 
penis that was sunk halfway into her mouth. It was Betty, his wife, who 
was sucking the stranger's cock!

Doug's head was reeling in disbelief. He just couldn't believe that his 
wife, Betty, was actually taking part in this wanton threesome. That 
she was actually licking and sucking another man's cock while that man 
slavered and kissed some other woman's pussy. He just couldn't believe 
it!

He stared in horrified fascination at the salacious scene. The dark-
haired woman seemed transported with ecstasy, and he could see the wet, 
pulsating furrow of her pink slit gleaming under the deft strokes of 
the stranger's tongue. Her face was masked with pure lust, and her 
hands were tangled in the man's hair, pushing his face harder down 
against the burning, writhing flesh of her lust-demented pussy.

Doug's disbelieving eyes traveled down the length of the lascivious 
human sex-chain, and came to rest again on the heavy, blood-inflated 
rod that was pumping lewdly between his wife's rounded lips. Her eyes 
were half-closed and there was a look of unadulterated pleasure on her 
face as she continued to move her shapely lips up and down the length 
of the pulsating hardness rammed between them. Her hand was cradling 
the heavy, sperm-bloated testicles with a loving gesture, while her 
other hand was embedded firmly in the nest of dark pubic curls at the 
base. She was kneading with a rhythmic squeezing on the squirming 
scrotum, completely engrossed in her obscene task.

Doug's head swam with his incredulous emotions. Nothing had prepared 
him for the shock of seeing his wife like this. The actual fact of her 
infidelity still hardly registered with his numbed brain and he was 
almost sure that at any moment he would wake up and find gratefully 
that it was all just a bad dream.

Who was this man whose cock she was sucking; And who was this other 
woman who was displaying her vagina so openly to be kissed by the man? 
Doug continued to stare at the nightmare scene. He wanted to run over 
there and tear them apart, stop this disgusting act that was going on 
in his own living room.

But he couldn't! He was rooted to the spot, immobilized by mingled 
disgust and incredulity. He was mesmerized by the rhythmic suckings 
that were transpiring a few feet away from his amazed eyes, and his 
ears were filled with the lewd, wet, slavering sounds. The three naked 
bodies were intertwined completely and seemed to undulate with a 
single, overwhelming tremor. Words of rage and horror choked in his 
throat as he stood there, staring, powerless to do anything else.

"Ooooohhhhh ... I'm going to cum!"

The dark-haired woman called out suddenly and Doug stared as her entire 
body stiffened, and her back arched up off the floor. Her head was 
thrown back and her hands were like claws digging convulsively into the 
man's tossed hair. And then, she was shook with a hundred tiny spasms 
and Doug thought he could see every nerve ending quivering. Loud 
passionate moans rent the air as she ground her buttocks down on the 
floor and forced the desire-demented plane of her fiery pussy against 
the frantically licking tongue that was gallantly burrowing into the 
viscous tunnel of her cunt.

Doug thought, not without sympathy, that the stranger would surely 
suffocate from the tight grip her thighs held on his face, and his nose 
and mouth seemed to be completely covered by the streaming, pink flesh. 
At last, the desperate pounding grew less and Doug saw her release the 
man's head, and she finally lay back, obviously completely satiated and 
exhausted on the floor. The man's face was moist and flushed, but Doug 
saw something else there, too. Hi visage was masked with passion, and 
it was obvious that he was almost ready to climax as well. Then the 
enormity of what was about to happen assailed Doug. He was going to cum 
in his wife's mouth! His hands doubled into fists and an angry red 
blush crimsoned his face. But just as he was about to rush over and 
stop this revolting travesty, the man's voice halted him.

"Oh Christ, nobody sucks cock like you do, honey," he moaned, his whole 
body quivering with pleasure.

The laudatory words stung Doug like a whip. That stranger was praising 
his wife ... nobody sucks cock like you do ... and a feeling of rage 
welled up in him. She never sucked my cock! he told himself furiously. 
Instead she sucks that goddamn bastard's ... Painfully, Doug recalled 
all the times he had tried to get her to kiss and lick his penis, but 
her horror, her obvious revulsion had stopped him from forcing her any 
further.

And now ... his eyes stole back to where his wife was milking 
voraciously on the jerking rod of hardened male flesh between her lips. 
He just couldn't believe that it really was his wife who was licking 
that guy's cock to the point where he was just about ready to climax 
...

"Oooooohhhhh ... keep suckinggg ..." Harvey suddenly called wildly, and 
then his pelvis was thrashing uncontrollably against Betty's face, and 
he was forcing his huge, distended penis halfway down her throat, his 
hands like steel talons forcing her mouth further down on his lust-
inflated shaft.

Doug stared almost uncomprehendingly at the scene. Oh God, she'll 
choke, he thought involuntarily as he watched the first convulsive 
ejaculation of the man's sperm into his wife's mouth. He could see her 
cheeks hollowing and filling, and knew that she was swallowing the 
other man's hot, seething sperm. A knot of rage and envy gnawed at his 
stomach as he watched his wife receive the stranger's lewd male 
offering in her mouth, and he wanted to go over there and punch that 
goddamn bastard to a pulp. But still he hesitated, held in thrall 
almost by the incredible scene he was witnessing. Betty's mouth 
continued to suck wildly on the rapidly deflating penis, and a look of 
disappointment flitted across her face when it became obvious that she 
had milked him dry.

Finally, it slipped helplessly from between her wet shining lips and 
Harvey collapsed in a crumpled heap on the floor, while Betty looked 
longingly at his limply reclining cock.

Suddenly, Doug couldn't stand it any longer. His fists raised 
threateningly, his face a fiery apoplectic red, he rushed into the 
room.

"What the fuck's going on here?" he bellowed, staring aggressively at 
the three naked forms on the floor.

Betty stared in dumbfounded horror at her husband. Her face blanched 
with fear and she wished the ground would open and swallow her up.

"D-Doug ..." she breathed in panic, hardly daring to look at him.

"Yes, it's me, your husband ... or have you forgotten all about me?" he 
sneered angrily, taking a step towards her.

But Harvey casually interrupted.

"So you're Betty's husband," he said languidly.

"Yes, I am, and who the hell are you?" Doug whirled around, his eyes 
blazing.

"Let me introduce myself," Harvey said suavely, "I'm Harvey Peterson, 
and this is my assistant, Jean Wembley!"

Doug stared at the man in undisguised disgust and then shouted 
furiously, "Well, Harvey Peterson, you're going to get a busted jaw 
from me right now."

Betty stifled a gasp. She had never seen Doug in such a rage, not even 
when he had taken her anally, and she was desperately afraid of what he 
would do.

"Hey, take it easy, old man," Harvey pleaded, "there's no need to get 
in a panic ... nothing to get upset about!"

"Nothing to get upset about!" Doug expostulated. "I come in here and 
find my wife sucking your cock while you eat this other broad's cunt! 
And you tell me to take it easy! Why, I ought to break your goddamned 
neck!"

Doug's face was white with fury and he was dancing with rage. But 
Harvey seemed unconcerned. Betty, her heart pounding, called softly to 
her husband.

"Doug, honey, please ..."

"Don't you "honey" me," he said scathingly, "you two-timing bitch. How 
many men have you sucked off right here in my own living room?"

"There's no need to be so vulgar, Mr. Fletcher," Harvey drawled, 
casually picking himself up and reaching for his clothes.

"You keep out of this," Doug threatened, "and leave me to deal with 
this scheming little whore my own way!"

Betty cringed pitifully under her husband's invectives. Oh God, why did 
he have to find her with Harvey? He'd never forgive her, never! Their 
whole marriage was in ruins, and it was all her fault. Oh in God's 
name, why did she have to jeopardize it like this?

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, you goddamn little slut?" 
Doug ranted, standing over her like a menacing giant. Betty was afraid 
to look up, afraid to face her husband's wrath. Shame and mortification 
cloaked her in scarlet, and tears rushed to her eyes. And then, an 
unfamiliar voice rang out, startling all four people in the living 
room.

"Now let's hear your story, Doug!"

Doug whirled around in disbelief, his eyes blazing.

"S-Selma!" he gasped, unable to believe the evidence of his own eyes.

"Yes, it's me," the lovely blonde drawled, coming into the living room. 
"And now maybe, Mrs. Fletcher," she smiled at Betty, "you'd like to 
hear what your husband has been up to!"

"Doug, who is this woman?" Betty said uneasily, only just getting over 
the shock of the unexpected interruption.

"I'll tell you who I am," Selma said, casting a threatening look at 
Doug.

"Please, Selma," Doug begged, fear clutching at his throat.

"I'm Doug's mistress!"

"Oh no!" Betty gasped, tears trickling down her face, unable to stand 
the truth of what she had heard.

"Or at least I was, until three days ago," Selma amended, pleased with 
the result of her announcement.

"Well, well, what an interesting new development," Harvey said, looking 
eagerly over the voluptuously curved blonde. "I didn't know your 
husband was getting some nookie on the side, did you, Betty?"

"N-no, I didn't," Betty said in a small voice. She couldn't bring 
herself to look at her husband, let alone at his beautiful mistress.

"Yes, Doug and I have had a lot of fun these last two months," Selma 
went on inexorably, "but tell me one thing, Doug,"

"W-what's that?" Doug said, his face ashen.

"How come you told me your wife was frigid and unresponsive? It looks 
to me as if she is a real hot little number!"

Betty gasped audibly at the girl's effrontery. But it wasn't her fault. 
It was Doug's. Oh God, what did he tell that girl about her?

"You're right about that, Selma, believe me," Harvey interjected. "It 
looks as if Doug has been mistaken all along. But I must congratulate 
him on his taste, both in mistress and wife!"

Nobody paid any attention to Harvey's last remark. Doug was standing, 
his head lowered, his hands hanging loosely by his sides. Betty was 
huddled in a cringing heap on the floor, and Selma was staring 
speculatively at Harvey. Jean was calmly picking up her clothes.

"Why don't we leave the Fletchers alone for a few moments," she 
suggested easily, leading the way to the bedroom, "I'm sure they have a 
lot to talk about!"

Harvey and Selma agreed, and Doug and Betty were left alone in the 
living room.



Chapter 8


For a long moment, there was complete silence. Doug made the first 
move.

"Betty, honey ..." he began tentatively, his voice soft and hesitant.

The gentleness of his tone was too much for Betty; she dissolved into 
tears, her shoulders shaking, her face covered with her hands. In a 
moment, Doug was beside her, cradling her in his arms.

"There, there, don't cry, baby ... it's all right now," he soothed, 
pulling her to him. Somehow, the knowledge of her infidelity didn't 
matter quite so much when it was shown in perspective with his own 
misdemeanor. He knew, deep down, that he had been wrong to berate her 
over her transgression without mentioning his own, and was also sure 
that if Selma hadn't come in just then, he would not have revealed his 
affair to his wife.

But Selma had been the last person he expected to see. He knew she was 
upset over the ending of their affair, but he never dreamed that she'd 
go to this length to get revenge. He figured that she must have called 
the office and found that he had gone home early, and had decided to 
follow him in the hopes of a confrontation with Betty. But she was 
probably just as surprised as she was to find Harvey and Jean there as 
well.

"I'm ... I'm sorry, Doug," Betty sobbed, clinging to her husband. 
Shivers trembled her body and she couldn't stop crying. It had been so 
terrible the whole encounter. First of all, the shock of being 
discovered by Doug when she was involved in a lascivious threesome with 
Harvey and Jean, and then the crowning blow of discovering that Doug 
had been unfaithful to her, just as she had been to him.

"And I'm sorry, too, baby," Doug said heartfeltedly. "I guess it's all 
my fault, really," he confessed shamefacedly. "You see, I first met 
Selma that day when I ... when I did that terrible thing to you ... 
that's why I was home so late!"

So that was the reason for his terrible temper, Betty thought, he was 
feeling guilty!

"But you see," he went on tentatively, "I never would have been 
interested in Selma if things had been going right between us!"

"I know," Betty agreed, "and a lot of the fault is mine, too. I see 
that now!"

"You do?" Doug said disbelievingly.

"Yes, and it took Harvey to point it out to me ..."

"What's that son of a bitch got to do with it?" Doug raged defensively.

Betty laughed, feeling some of the strain melting away from her.

"I'm glad to see you're jealous ... that you still have some feeling 
left for me!"

"How can you say that ... if you only knew how I felt when I walked in 
and saw you ... sucking that bastard's cock!"

"I do know," Betty insisted, "after all, Selma was pretty honest about 
your relationship."

It was Doug's turn to feel embarrassed.

"It's all right, darling." Betty said soothingly. "I can understand why 
you got involved with her. I wasn't much fun for you, frigid as I was!"

"Well, you weren't ..." Doug protested, not knowing what to say.

"Don't worry, I realize now what an idiot I've been," Betty smiled. "To 
tell the truth, I don't know how you put up with me these two years. 
But all that's changed now, thank goodness--and Harvey!"

She saw her husband's face darkening and put out a restraining hand.

"Now don't go getting uptight about Harvey. Whether or not you know it, 
you owe him a debt of gratitude."

"What! Gratitude for--"

"For making a woman out of your childish wife!" Betty finished firmly.

"It certainly makes a man feel like shit when he finds out that his 
wife has to go to another guy to get satisfaction!" Doug said bitterly, 
turning away.

"But don't you understand, darling," Betty insisted, "for some goofy 
reason, I just couldn't let myself go with you. I needed the jolt of an 
illicit affair to set my wheels in motion."

"How's that?" Doug questioned suspiciously.

"Oh, I don't rightly know," Betty replied honestly. "I just know that 
it works. And as far as I'm concerned, that's the main thing. How or 
why doesn't mean a damn!"

Doug had to admit that she was right. Of course, it irked him to think 
that he had failed to arouse her completely, and that she had responded 
fully for the first time to a complete stranger. But he knew he'd get 
over that in time. As she said, the main thing was that she was finally 
released from her prison of prudery, and was free to be exactly what 
she was--a fully liberated woman. But a nagging doubt remained. Suppose 
she only responded with Harvey ... or some other man. Suppose things 
were just the same between them? What then?

"Betty, why don't ..." he began, wondering if he should suggest what he 
had in mind. But Betty seemed preoccupied with the sounds coming from 
the next room.

"Let's go tell the others we've made up," she said happily, leading him 
towards the bedroom, completely oblivious to the fact that she was 
stark naked. Quite a change from the Betty I used to know, Doug smiled 
to himself as he followed her. He decided to hedge his plan of trying 
out whether the transformation that had come over his wife applied to 
making love with him as well, and go along with what she wanted.

She threw open the door of the bedroom, and then stopped short. Doug, 
too, gave a gasp of surprise as he stared at the lewd goings-on on the 
bed.

Another lascivious threesome had formed, Doug saw, with once more, 
Harvey taking a leading role in events. He was skewering wildly between 
Selma's widespread legs, while Jean was astride the blonde's face, her 
legs wrapped around her shimmering, golden head. He experienced a 
momentary stab of jealousy as he saw that Harvey had monopolized Selma-
-first his wife, and now his mistress--but as he watched, he was aware 
of a curious feeling of excitement. It was a far different feeling than 
that he had felt when he had discovered Betty sucking Harvey's cock, 
but this was different. Betty and he were reconciled, and he could look 
on this new development with something approaching composure. Not that 
he was likely to feel that for long, for already he could discern that 
his prick was beginning to grow along his leg, pressing against the 
confining fabric of his pants.

Betty was watching the scene with avid interest. She couldn't help 
feeling disconcerted by the sight of Selma's lovely golden body, her 
flesh soft and buttery. Her husband's mistress was beautiful, without a 
doubt. And obviously, Harvey thought so too. Betty could see the 
familiar length of his lust-inflated shaft pumping rhythmically in and 
out of the clasping wet tunnel of the teenager's eagerly receptive 
cunt, and Betty could just barely catch a glimpse of the moistly 
gleaming pinkness as Harvey withdrew. Jean, too, was obviously 
enraptured by the newcomer. Her head was thrown back, her hard, upswept 
breasts pointed and excited. The muscles in her thighs were standing 
out like whipcord as she maintained her thigh-grip on Selma's buried 
face and bounced up and down incessantly as shivers of pleasure stabbed 
at her tingling pussy.

Betty's eyes traveled back to her lover, an saw that his hands were 
clutched convulsively onto Selma's gleaming gold skin, holding her 
inexorably in place. His body was bathed in perspiration and he didn't 
even seem to notice that Jean was also getting her share of fun from 
Selma. He continued to fuck mercilessly between the long, tapering legs 
which were now curling around his lower back in a possessive gesture, 
and Betty could see the flexing and unflexing of his hirsute buttocks 
as he drove his thick, hard shaft to the hilt between the softly 
swollen flanges of Selma's openly throbbing cunt.

He raised her pelvis a few inches off the bed from the force of his 
tremendous thrusts, and Betty could see the sperm-laden sac of his 
balls dangling lewdly beneath his pile-driving cock. She was surprised 
that she didn't feel any jealousy as she watched the lust-inciting 
scene. She actually didn't mind watching her lover fuck her husband's 
mistress. Certainly the sight excited her, but it didn't make her 
envious. She had Doug back again and he was all she wanted. Turning her 
head slightly, she was aware that her husband was sidling over towards 
her. A quick glance downwards told her that he was aroused by the 
lascivious scene as well. She could see the growing protuberance of his 
burgeoning cock, pushing against his pants, and with a swift movement, 
she brushed her hand lightly over it.

"Oh God, honey, don't do that!" Doug hissed between passion-clenched 
teeth.

"Why not, baby?" Betty smiled, pressuring the swollen organ once more 
with her sensitive fingertips. "It's big and hard, isn't it ..." she 
mused, her eyes half-closing.

Doug stared at her in amazement. He could hardly believe that she was 
talking this way, let alone touching his cock in that provocative 
gesture. He stared hard at her face and was astonished at what he saw 
mirrored there. Desire was written all over her lovely smooth features. 
Desire ... but who was it for! His heart pounding painfully, he looked 
questioningly at her.

"Ooohhhh ... get naked, honey ... quick!" she gasped, her fingers 
tightening around the throbbing hardness of his erect prick.

Doug could hardly believe his ears. He stared uncomprehendingly at his 
wife, afraid that he had misunderstood her.

"Oh baby, let's fuck ..." she pleaded, her eyes full of longing.

Doug needed no second urging. His hands began to tear at his clothes, 
pulling off his shirt, ripping down his pants. He was urged on by the 
lewd, sibilant sounds coming from the bed where Selma, Harvey and Jean 
were thrashing around in an obscene tangle of sucking and fucking. His 
blood-swollen penis leaped up happily when he freed it from the 
confines of his trousers, and his heart gave a painful thud when he saw 
Betty's eyes lighted on it, widening with interest and excitement.

In a moment, he made a wild rush at her, lunging towards her with all 
the tremendous intensity of his desire. He caught her in a tight bear 
hug, knocking her off balance and they both tumbled to the floor, 
unaware of everything but the heated, passionate closeness of their 
bodies.

He ground his mouth down on hers in a demanding kiss, and was thrilled 
when her lips parted obediently to admit his probing tongue. Her own 
wet tongue fenced and swirled around his lewdly dabbing tongue, 
whipping up a froth of their mutual saliva. Her arms tightened around 
his neck and she clung to him, her body straining eagerly against his. 
He could feel the hardness of her turgid little nipples digging into 
his chest, and she flexed the hair-covered mound of her vaginal "vee" 
against the nudging shaft of his palpitating cock.

From across the room, they could hear the mounting moans of pleasure, 
and knew that the trio were near to climaxing. Somehow, the knowledge 
of the crescendoing of excitement only a few feet away from them 
spurred on their own, and Betty's thighs parted of their own volition 
in obvious invitation to her lust-maddened husband. Immediately, he 
guided the huge, blood-bloated head towards the small quivering opening 
to her body, and placed against the delicate flesh.

For a moment, he held it there, savoring the fragile, almost ephemeral 
contact between her soft feminine vagina and the throbbing hardness of 
his heated male cock, and then he couldn't hold back any longer. He 
would know soon if his worst fears were to be realized. He would 
discover if Betty could respond to him as completely as she did to 
Harvey. Drawing in his breath, he placed a hand on either of her soft, 
quivering inner thighs and drew them further apart, revealing the full 
pink moist slit of her waiting pussy.

Then he surged forward with all the strength that was in his desire-
driven body.

"Aaaaaaarrrrgggghhhh ... Ohhhhhh ..." Betty wailed as she felt the 
giant instrument cleave through the futilely resisting cuntal sheath, 
and forge its way into the darkness of her moistly giving vaginal 
depths. But Doug, driven on by a lust-maddened demon that was guiding 
his instinct, ignored her moans and continued to saw relentlessly into 
the clinging passage.

"... uuugggghhhhhhnnnn ..."

Another painful inch.

"Aaaaaahhhhhh ... uuummmppphhhh ..."

And then, he was in!

"Oh God, you're too big!" Betty gasped, hardly able to breathe. She 
felt completely stuffed with her husband's big, thick cock, and it 
seemed to be expanding inside her with every passing second. She was 
sure it would explode from the tight restricting pressure of her still-
resisting cuntal channel.

Doug held it there for a moment, and then, slowly began to withdraw. 
Her smooth inner membrane was dry and unyielding and pulled out 
painfully as he exited, and when just the burgeoning head was still 
tightly imbedded in the squirming orifice, he plunged forward again, 
ramming it in with full force. He ignored the feeble resistance and 
sunk his pounding cock right to the hilt in her helpless little belly.

Without waiting, he began to establish a rhythmic sawing in and out, 
holding his wife firmly by the hips. He drove into her with deep hard 
strokes, hitting bottom each time, his heavy, churning balls slapping 
lewdly against the upraised crevice of her softly rounded backside, and 
then withdrawing smoothly until just the hard rubbery head was still 
buried between her splayed thighs.

Her eager, grasping pussy finally began to lubricate, allowing his 
pistoning cock to slip in and out with greater ease. As she became more 
accustomed to his enormous girth, her hips took on a gentle undulation 
of their own as they began to respond to the familiar movement. She 
began to grind her buttocks down into the floor, flexing her tingling 
cunt upward to receive her husband's instroke. Her full, voluptuous 
breasts were quivering, the nipples hard and erect. Her head was thrown 
back wantonly, her flame-colored hair framing her lust-wreathed face 
like a blazing halo. Her arms reached up and wrapped themselves around 
his neck, and she bucked against him with increasing rhythm, matching 
her thrashing with his frantic pounding.

"Ooooohhhhh ... Oh God yessss ..." she gasped through desire-clenched 
teeth as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, wearing away the 
grittiness of any resistance she might have left to her husband's 
fucking.

Doug was in seventh heaven. This was beyond his wildest dreams. Betty 
was responding to him in a way he had never imagined possible. But he 
had often daydreamed about something like this happening, but had never 
thought that it would be anything but a dream. And now ... he could 
hardly believe that the beautiful, sensually aroused woman, flailing 
and twisting around wantonly beneath him, was his wife! His prudish, 
frigid wife! Well, that Betty was gone, that was obvious. She was truly 
liberated, just like she said, and she had made him the happiest man in 
the world. After this, he would never need another Selma again--Betty 
was definitely enough for him!

Betty was carried away into a world of her own. Her body was afire with 
pleasurable sensations, and her brain was alight with joy. She was 
fucking Doug, and for the very first time in her life, deriving full, 
total enjoyment from it. It was fabulous! Far, far better than she had 
ever imagined, and much better than with Harvey. Now that the shame and 
fear of the confrontation had passed away, Betty was glad that it had 
happened. Otherwise, things might have gone on the way they were going 
indefinitely, and their marriage might have been irretrievably wrecked. 
But thank goodness, things had come to a head and now she and Doug were 
free to enjoy each other to the fun.

Engrossed in her thoughts, and riding the crest of her mounting 
pleasure, Betty failed to notice that there was a new movement on the 
floor beside her. She gasped in surprise when she felt an alien hand on 
her hip, and wondered with a pang of panic who it could be. She 
realized then that the sounds from the bed had ceased and knew that 
they must have climaxed. But who was crouched beside her now? She could 
hear the heavy breathing, and had a moment of fear. Was it Selma, come 
to separate her from her husband? Then, just when she was about to make 
an effort to discover who had joined them, a voice whispered in her 
ear.

"Betty! Betty! It's me, Harvey!"

Harvey! Oh God, what was he doing here?

His hands were racing over her body, trailing over her hips, pulling 
and kneading at her buttocks.

"Roll over, honey, don't forget Harvey!" he leered, his voice rasping, 
and Betty froze with fear. What did he mean? What would Doug say? 
Before she had time to think any further, she found herself being 
shifted, pulled over sideways, and then she found herself astride her 
husband, his charging cock still pile-driving into the darkness of her 
hungrily receptive cunt.

Betty still couldn't figure what was going on. Harvey was still 
stroking and caressing her, but Doug didn't seem to mind. Now his hands 
were fondling the flaccid half-moons of her ass, straining the soft 
pliant mounds apart, pressuring the crevice of her backside almost 
beyond belief. She didn't know what to think. What was Harvey doing? 
Why didn't he leave her alone with her husband? And then she drew in 
her breath with a sobbing gasp when she felt the illicit probing of his 
finger at her secret anus.

"AAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH ..." she cried out with sudden vehemence when with 
brutal strength, Harvey rammed his middle finger forward and inserted 
the tip into the tightly clenched sphincter. Oblivious to her pain, he 
continued to burrow it into the rubbery giving passage, forcing it in 
to the first knuckle. Tears of agony started to Betty's eyes and 
desperately she tried to wriggle her cruelly sundered ass to dislodge 
the unwanted intruder but her frantic movements only seemed to 
encourage the penetrating digit to enter further. For a few second 
more, Harvey rotated it inside the clinging sheath and then mercifully 
withdrew it, leaving Betty consumed with relief.

But her relief quickly turned to dread when once more she felt him 
pulling apart the soft flaccid mounds, his fingers like pinpricks of 
steel needles in the tender flesh.

"Spread that little ass of yours, baby," he leered lasciviously, 
"Harvey's comin' right in!"

Oh my God no! Betty thought desperately as he heard his salacious 
words, and then she felt the insidious nudging of his already fully 
erect cock against the tiny rubbery opening. Oh God, he couldn't! He 
just couldn't! she sobbed frantically in silence, trying to pull back 
from the hard probing.

But she was held immobile by her husband's fucking in front and by 
Harvey's cruel grip in back. She was powerless.

She closed her eyes in agony as the pressure on her cringing little 
rectum grew more intense, and then ...

"OH GOD STOP ... YOU'RE KILLING ME ..." she sobbed wildly as all 
thought was blanked out by the searing sheet of pain which enveloped 
her. For a moment, she was aware of nothing but that incredible agony 
and then when it cleared a little, she realized that Harvey had 
penetrated her anus with his huge penis.

"Oh please stop, Harvey," she pleaded again, "you're splitting me in 
two!"

But Harvey continued to force hi lust-swollen cock into the futilely 
resisting rectal passage, splitting the sensitively squirming flesh 
unbearably, straining the tight little anus beyond belief. The sight of 
her helplessly pinned body, impaled like a fluttering butterfly at the 
end of his brutalizing cock, gave Harvey an added impetus of sadistic 
satisfaction and he surged forward until he had sunk it to the hilt in 
her tortured back passage. He held it there, tightly encased by her 
inner membrane, and flexed it slightly, adding to the shivers of pain 
already clutching at her tormented body. Then he began to withdraw, 
finding the return journey less arduous as her sorely tried anus began 
to secrete a slight lubrication.

He began a slow, rhythmic fucking in and out of her gradually loosening 
rectum, and at last began to fuck in to her in time with her husband's 
instrokes below. The two driving cocks slammed as one into her twin 
passages, brushing enticingly against each other through the thin 
dividing membrane, and as the terrible pain cleared, Betty realized 
that something else was taking the place of that all pervading 
sensation.

She was beginning to enjoy it!

She was beginning to get excited by the crude anal fucking that her 
lover was giving her at the same time as her husband was screwing into 
her in front. Her body was buffeted like a rag doll between the 
plunging cocks of the two men, and she began to churn helplessly from 
the dual sensations. She flexed her desire-ridden cunt forward to 
receive Doug's deep inward thrust below and then arched her satiny 
buttocks backward to welcome Harvey's hard, savage stroke behind.

"Oooooohhhhh yessssss ..." she moaned as she found herself soaring on 
the heights of incredible pleasure. She actually loved this double 
fucking, by her husband and her lover at the same time. She loved 
having them both drive into her in unison, sinking right to the depths 
of her helplessly aroused belly, and then withdraw at the same time, 
leaving her painfully empty for just a moment, before plunging in 
again.

Betty was filled with a wild, almost dizzy happiness. She was excited 
as she never was before, but the main thing was that Doug obviously 
didn't care about Harvey anymore. She was able to respond fully to him, 
and that was the important thing. She was free to enjoy his body to the 
full, and anything else was only incidental. This dual fucking she was 
receiving was symbolic, too, of her new freedom. She was irrevocably 
changed now. There was no fear that she'd fall back into her old ways 
after this, and she was glad to leave them behind. A whole new world 
was opening up to her and she couldn't wait to step into it.

She was jerked back to the present by the realization that Doug was 
going to cum. His body was flailing like a dervish beneath hers, and 
his palpitating prick was diving into her greedily clasping cunt with 
new strength.

"Oh God, I'm there! I'm cumming!" he cried suddenly, and then Betty 
felt her entire cunt being swept aside by the rush of his orgasmic 
churning. The first hot spurt of his scalding semen flowed into her 
wildly dilating cunt, seeping into the squirming recesses and creases. 
Her hungrily milking pussy sucked voraciously on his hotly ejaculating 
cock, and she was filled with ecstatic happiness by the knowledge that 
she was able, for the first time, to really welcome her husband's life-
giving offering. Then she knew that Harvey, too, was cumming, and he 
was mewling incoherently as he battered against her sorely-bruised 
buttocks. Betty could feel the searing flood of his white, thick fluid 
as it spurted into her forever stretched rectum, and then, she too, was 
there.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhh ... Cumming! Cumming! Cumming!" she chanted insanely as 
her body was tossed and bounced about like a buoy at sea by the united 
waves of her husband's and her lover's passion. Incredible sensations 
enveloped her and she felt that her body would never be the same again. 
Flood after flood of almost unbearable pleasure coursed through her, 
leaving every nerve ending tingling and unbelievably alive. Her head 
was gently spinning, and she felt that at any moment she might drift 
off into a soothing limbo of eternal ecstasy. More hot rivers of 
sensation washed over her, but she barely felt them as she drifted off 
into a semi-daze of satiation and security, sandwiched reassuringly 
between the satisfied bodies of her husband and her lover.

*   *   *

Doug was absolutely contented. Around him, Harvey and Betty were 
resting lightly, and somehow it all seemed natural that all five of 
them should be naked and together in the bedroom. As far as Doug was 
concerned, everything was fine. Betty was proving to be the wife he'd 
always dreamed she'd be. Of course, he'd been surprised, to say the 
least, when Harvey had joined in their lovemaking by taking Betty in 
the ass, but he didn't really mind. Now that things were right between 
himself and Betty, he didn't really care what happened.

"Doug, darling?"

It was Betty, and she was moving closer to him. There was a look of 
pure love in her eyes and it thrilled Doug to see her looking at him 
like that.

"Happy, baby?" he whispered.

"Yes ... but ..."

"But what, honey?" he questioned solicitously. He hoped that nothing 
was worrying her; he didn't want this moment to be spoiled. But she 
seemed almost hesitant about confiding in him.

"I'd ... I'd like to ... to suck you cock!" she said at last.

"What?" Doug gasped, unable to believe his ears.

"I'd like to suck and kiss your penis," she said more confidently. 
"I've wanted to for some time now. Wouldn't you like me to kiss and 
lick it, like I did Harvey's?"

A recollection of how he'd seen her when he first came home this 
afternoon flashed vividly into his brain and he saw again her ripe, 
full lips ovalled lasciviously around the other man's thick, blood-
heavy shaft.

Yes, yes, he wanted her to suck his cock like she licked and kissed 
Harvey's prick ... He never thought he'd hear those words coming from 
her lips ... but today was a day of complete surprises and it wasn't 
over yet.

Already her fingers were creeping downward and brushing tantalizingly 
over the semi-erect expanse of his already stirring penis. A dart of 
excitement shot through him at her enticing touch, as she stroked and 
caressed the inert organ into growing hardness.

"Oh God, Betty, your hand feels fabulous on my cock!" he gasped, as he 
lay back on the floor and stretched out luxuriously. Her deft fondling 
made the passion blood surge through the awakening shaft and he could 
feel it rising up from the nest of tangled pubic curls at the base.

Betty stared in lewd fascination at the inflating rod and continued to 
stroke and manipulate it with ever increasing confidence. She enjoyed 
seeing it grow to new life under her touch and wondered at the surge of 
desire springing through.

Then, holding it firmly by the stubby, thick base, she bent down and 
flicked out with her tongue. She swiped the full length of the 
upstanding pole with her pink, darting tongue, and was rewarded with a 
convulsive shudder from Doug, who moaned in abandoned ecstasy. She 
started to paint the palpitating prick with her warm saliva, running 
her tongue from the very top of the hard, burgeoning head right down to 
the root which was buried in the forest of wiry curls. She dropped 
still lower and coated the churning sac of his balls with her warm 
juices, and felt them squirm and contract under her tantalizing touch. 
Then she returned her attention once more to the rapidly expanding 
shaft. She swirled her tongue around and around the pulsating cock, 
feeling the blood flowing throbbingly through the veins. Cleverly, she 
flicked at the sensitive part just under the rubbery head and trailed 
down the webbed underside, making Doug gasp and moan with mounting 
pleasure.

Then with deliberate slowness, she enclosed the knobby head between her 
full, strong lips, taking it completely into her mouth and closing 
around it like a tight rubber band.

"Oh Christ, Betty, that's it ... that's it ..." Doug moaned, his hands 
reaching up and pushing Betty's face further down on his pounding 
prick. She began to take more and more of her husband's fully erect 
cock in her mouth, sliding her lips down the throbbing length, until 
the hard burgeoning head was touching at the back of her throat against 
her larynx.

Then she began to suck and nibble on the imprisoned rod, titillating it 
with her whirling tongue, stabbing it with her sharp little teeth while 
all the time her other hand played provocatively with the writhing sac 
of his scrotum. She began to move her mouth up and down with increasing 
tempo, sucking and slavering and licking with obvious hunger on the 
pounding male hardness imbedded in her mouth.

Doug stared down at her with lust-dimmed eyes. The sight of her, 
crouched on all fours up between his legs, added to his pleasure. He 
watched in rapt fascination as her red, curve lips ovalled greedily 
around the thick girth of his penis and he wondered how she could take 
it in her mouth without choking. Overpowering tremors of pleasure 
coursed through him and his hips began a steady churning as he flexed 
his pistoning cock into her voraciously sucking mouth.

Harvey watched in utter absorption as Betty sucked and licked her 
husband's cock, and involuntarily drew nearer to get a better view. 
Betty was proving to be more versatile than he had imagined and he was 
beginning to feel sorry that she was reconciled with her husband. It 
appeared to him that now that they had made up, they would no longer 
look for outside distractions. Still, everything had its good side, and 
in this case, it was obvious that there was a rapport between himself 
and Selma, not to mention between Selma and Jean!

Still, he was sorry that Betty no longer found him the chief 
attraction. She was a real fire-bomb, the kind he really liked, and she 
was really chewing and sucking on that cock of her husband's, just like 
she had on his a little while back. But Harvey was also beginning to 
feel distinctly left out, and that was a sensation that he definitely 
didn't relish. But he was not to be put off and carefully edged closer 
to Mrs. Fletcher's enticingly dangling buttocks.

Betty, engrossed in her task, got a start when she felt hands once more 
running like a little insects over the satiny mounds of her buttocks. 
She knew that it was Harvey, accustomed as she was to his strong, firm 
grasp, and wished silently that he'd go away. But her wish was not to 
be granted and again she felt the insistent probing of his insatiable 
penis as it nudged at the tender flesh of her still tingling vagina. 
She couldn't suppress a moan, which muffled around her husband's 
thrusting cock as Harvey began to guide his lust-swollen cock-head into 
the moistly receptive orifice of her pussy. And, in a moment, he had 
inserted it into the velvety opening, his hands holding her firmly in 
place.

"Aaaaaahhhhh ... oooohhhhhh ..." she sighed around her husband's 
hardened shaft of excited flesh. Unconsciously, she thrust back with 
her buttocks and encouraged Harvey's questing penis to enter her 
hungrily welcoming belly. He responded eagerly, plowing into her soft, 
yielding depths with a single, strong stroke.

"... uuuummmmpppphhhh ..." she breathed as he hit bottom, the hard 
rubbery head touching enticingly against the sensitive tip of her 
cervix.

Without hesitation, Harvey began a slow, rhythmic sawing in and out and 
Betty found that she was sucking on her husband's hotly palpitating 
cock in time to Harvey's fucking behind. Betty wondered what Doug was 
thinking, knowing that Harvey was penetrating her from behind while she 
was sucking his cock, but she was sure he didn't mind. Anyway, he was 
in a world of his own, his breathing coming in ragged pants, his whole 
body tremoring with spasms of convulsive pleasure.

Betty's own body was alive with spine-tingling sensations, and she 
thrust her quivering ass backwards to welcome Harvey's powerful 
instrokes. Her breasts were trembling, the nipples hard and erect, and 
as if aware of her desire, Harvey suddenly brought his hands forward 
and began to caress and knead the voluptuous flesh, making her mewl 
with unrestrained pleasure. Her cheeks were convoluted as she sucked 
desperately on her husband's pulsating shaft, her lips slipping up and 
down the long, slippery length. Her hand was squeezing convulsively on 
the churning testicles cradled in her palm, and she could sense the 
tumultuous seething taking place in their dark cavern.

Her eyes half-closed, she barely noticed that a shape was moving 
towards Doug, and then, realization drawing, her eyes flew open when 
she saw what was happening.

Jean was settling herself on her husband's face!

Carefully, she placed the pink, moist furrow of her pussy on Doug's 
surprised mouth. For a moment, Betty could only stare in surprise, and 
then she saw, to her amazement, that Doug was flicking out with his 
tongue, darting it into the velvety softness of the girl's vibrating 
cunt.

Eagerly, she clamped her thighs on either side of Doug's perspiring 
face and rimmed his nose and mouth with her flowering vagina. A look of 
unadulterated pleasure flushed her features and she began to moan and 
gasp as Doug started to lick and suck at her trembling pussy.

Betty continued to suck her husband's granite-hard penis. It felt like 
a separate living entity in her mouth, breathtakingly alive and 
tingling with innumerable sensations. Harvey was panting behind her as 
he rammed his long, lunging cock into her helplessly aroused pussy, and 
Betty realized that she was in the middle of an incredible daisy-chain 
of sucking and fucking. She was sucking her husband's cock while Harvey 
fucked into her from behind, and at the same time, Doug was licking and 
slavering at Jean's openly proffered pussy. The thought of how they all 
must appear, strung out across the floor, four naked bodies moaning and 
quivering with rapidly rising passion, formed a lewd pornographic 
picture in Betty's mind and gave her an illicit quiver of pleasure. At 
one time, she would have thought it was disgusting, immoral, wrong. But 
now, she didn't care about any of that. They were all enjoying it--that 
was the main thing.

But there was more to follow. Betty stared, with disbelieving eyes, as 
Selma, feeling undoubtedly left out, settled herself in front of Jean, 
and positioning herself with lewdly splayed thighs, afforded the dark-
haired girl access to the moistly pulsating cleft of her vagina. Betty 
just couldn't believe it as she watched Jean's tongue snake out and 
swipe the blonde's quivering pussy with rapidly increasing sweeps. 
Selma was obviously tremendously excited already and Betty thought she 
could see the hardened knob of Selma's clitoris peeping out through the 
curling tendrils of golden pussy hair.

Now Betty realized she was involved in a quintet of lascivious passion 
and every pore and nerve in her body was aflame with added pleasure. 
The obscene chain stretched right across the floor and the room 
resounded wit moans and wet sluicing sounds of oral lovemaking. Every 
tongue seemed to dip and dart in precision unison with the tempo set by 
Harvey's still plunging cock and the shivers of passion reverberated 
all the way from Harvey to Selma. The level of the sensual tension was 
rising rapidly and Betty knew that it couldn't last.

It was Harvey who broke it.

With a deep, incoherent moan, he made one last dynamic drive into 
Betty, and then he was there! Almost immediately, Betty felt the onrush 
of his seething white fluid as it flowed into her lust-ridden pussy in 
a foaming cascade, and she knew that she was near to climaxing herself. 
But Doug was there first. His prick seemed to dive almost 
uncontrollably to her feverishly working mouth and she felt the 
welcoming flood of his hot, raining sperm in her mouth. It seemed to 
fill her to overflowing, but she managed to drink every drop, savoring 
it completely, thankful for the wonderful opportunity of tasting her 
husband's sperm. Then she realized, from the violent shaking of her 
husband's body that Selma and Jean were cumming, too. They were all 
reaching an orgasm together!

And after that, everything went blank. She remembered feeling the first 
spasms of excruciating pleasure, recalled the convulsive shudders that 
shook her frame, but it seemed to all overpower her to the extent that 
her head began to spin round and round and she finally sank into a 
satiated, blissful oblivion.



Chapter 9


It was well after midnight when Harvey, Selma and Jean finally left. 
The rest of the evening had passed in a blur, as far as Betty was 
concerned. Her semiconscious state after the quintet had all climaxed 
together didn't last long, and she found herself being roped in to try 
all kinds of new positions and ways. After a while, it all lost its 
savor, to her way of thinking, and she got the impression that Doug 
felt the same way.

At about midnight, she had made her way to the kitchen, and assisted by 
Jean, made some coffee and sandwiches. It was at this period that she 
got an opportunity of telling Doug everything. She told him all about 
the modeling jobs, and how she had met Harvey in the first place. Now 
that she had unburdened herself, she felt much better. Of course, it 
helped that Doug was so understanding. It gave her a secret feeling of 
pleasure to realize that Doug had actually broken off with Selma and 
had intended making up with her. So, looking back on it all, she was 
glad that things had worked out they way they did. Because if she 
hadn't got involved with Harvey, it was doubtful that things would have 
gone smoothly with her and Doug. But now there was no question of any 
problems of that sort.

Harvey seemed very attracted to Selma and it seemed a mutual one. Betty 
had even overhear him telling her about a modeling job he might have 
for her. Selma's eyes had lit up at the prospects, and Betty got the 
feeling that when she and Doug faded out of the picture, they wouldn't 
be missed too much, at least by Harvey and Selma. She probably would 
miss Jean, but knew that she wouldn't go on seeing her. Jean, too, was 
taken with Selma, so everything had a way of fitting together.

Doug and Betty both were relieved when they finally left. They were 
beginning to think they'd never be alone together again. Harvey, Jean 
and Selma all seemed to be insatiable and never tired of new 
variations. Betty knew, that come the morning, the crowded events of 
this day would come back into her brain with perfect clarity, if she 
wanted to remember them. But she was doubtful that she did. But one 
thing she was grateful for, and that was that she had convinced herself 
that group sex wasn't for her. It definitely palled on her, and she was 
secretly relieved to hear that Doug felt the same way.

Gratefully, they headed for their bedroom as soon as their guests had 
gone and thankfully shut the door behind them.

"Well, what a day," Doug said, shaking his head. "I hope we don't have 
another like it!"

"I'm sure we won't ... as long as you don't take on a new mistress!" 
Betty said mischievously.

"And the same goes for you," Doug laughed, gathering her in his arms. 
"From now on, I want a stay-at-home wife!"

"You mean, that I'm not to work anymore?" she said in mock alarm. 
Actually, she was relieved to be giving up modeling. It was fun and 
exciting, but very hard work, and she found that most of her earnings 
went on clothes, make-up and hairpieces. Not to mention cabs!

"That's just what I mean. From now on, the only modeling you're to do 
is for me!"

"All right, you're the boss!" Betty laughed happily, surrendering 
herself completely to her husband.


The End