A Wife Driven to Cheat
(M+/FF, cheat, rape, best)by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.org
Chapter 01: Betrayal Begins at Home Chapter 02: Seduction Function Chapter 03: Reluctant Rape Chapter 04: Snooping Does Not Pay Chapter 05: Dog Day Afternoon Chapter 06: Double Trouble Chapter 07: Cheating Doesn't Pay Chapter 08: When Fucked, Fuck Back Chapter 09: Resolved To Pleasure
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Chapter 1.
Betrayal Begins at Home
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Frustration is a function of expectation. Failing to understand this simple maxim leads us to respond incorrectly to unforeseen circumstances. We then allow another to control us. One should instead carry his own weather — whether it rains or shines makes no difference to him. His honor is greater than his moods. By grounding his emotional life not on the moods, feelings, and weaknesses of others, but upon his self-chosen values, his behavior is a product of his own decisions based on principles, rather than of present conditions. Consider this as the following tale unfolds.
"Just what did you mean by that?" Glen Haak turned slowly around and faced his wife. He had already opened the door, intending to stalk out, but now he slammed it shut again, and Anna recoiled from the look of cold anger he was leveling at her. But she continued to stare back at him, fury flashing in her green eyes. Tossing her sleek, raven-crowned head, she fought the beginnings of fear which were trying to root deep inside her.
"Just what I said!" she retorted bitterly. "You've got some plan in mind for that little vixen. I saw the way you were looking at her!"
"For Christ's sake, Anna, try and be reasonable!" Glen snapped, resisting the temptation to go over and shake his wife until her teeth chattered. He felt extremely uncomfortable and just a little bit guilty. A guy can't help looking, he told himself, when a broad as well-built as Erin Bann comes into view, and as the girl was going to be working for him, he had to be friendly to her, hadn't he?
"Are you sure she's from the Agricultural College, and not just some little number you've...."
"I'm sick and tired of listening to your accusations," Glen interrupted, "and I haven't got all day to stand here and argue with you. Miss Bann," he went on quietly, "is a student from the College, and perfectly qualified for the project. She is majoring in Dairying, and will be with us for three months. Anything else?"
"You can't tell me she knows anything about farming," Anna persisted, feeling her anger and jealousy combine and stick in her craw, choking the hot bitter words out of her. As she continued to rail at her husband, a suffocating feeling of futility and frustration swept over her. I didn't mean to nag him like this, she told herself hopelessly. I can't help it... but she's so young and attractive, and the way he was looking at her.
"I have to go now," Glen said tonelessly, "it's almost milking time."
"That's right," Anna hurled, "go back to your damn cows... and your girlfriend!" Great gulping sobs convulsed her, and tears ran down her face as she stared at the departing figure of her husband. God, why does she have to cry like that? Glen shrugged as he slammed the door behind him. As always, he was moved by the sight and sounds of her tears, and felt the guilt inside him strengthening with insidious speed. He would have liked to take her in his arms, caress and soothe her, stroke away her fears, in spite of her nagging and accusations, but somehow, he couldn't. He knew he was afraid that she'd reject his offering of peace, and felt that he couldn't stand the humiliation. If she wants to be like that, why should I be the one to give in? he reasoned angrily, as he hurried over to the barn.
Anna crumpled like a rag doll onto the leather couch. Her sobs resounded in the small room, and the fading daylight cloaked everything in the office with ominous ambiguity. She felt small and alone and unprotected and totally incapable of drawing the strings of her life together. The woman who had screamed at and harangued her husband over a trivial incident was not the real Anna Haak. The real Anna was a loving, warm woman who stood by and encouraged her husband in all ventures. But who was that whining domineering shrew? I can't help it! she told herself again, burying her tear-stained face in her hands. The vitriolic, stinging memory of her discovery of her husband's infidelity of over a year ago came rushing back with painful clarity - the humiliation, the feeling of complete insecurity, the anguish of it all was as fresh as if it had just happened. Even though they had made up, and she had sworn to forgive and forget, and Glen had tried, and was in fact a model husband since then, she couldn't purge herself of the bitter memory. She knew that she had taken every opportunity to get back at him, remind him of his indiscretion, to throw it up in his face on occasions when it was most wounding to him. She knew that the misery, the unhappiness of their co-existence, because it couldn't be called a marriage in the usual sense of the word, was mostly her doing, and yet, nothing would erase the jarring, searing memory of that dreadful time last year. She hadn't waited to verify her discovery, find out how long his involvement had been going on, or how serious it was. She had confronted him immediately, threatened divorce, court action, instant ignominy, and had relented only after weeks of ceaseless apologies, declarations of future fidelity and sworn avowals of love by her distraught husband. In a way, she had to admit to herself, she had enjoyed his obvious distress at her threat to leave, and had basked in his repeated statements that "he couldn't live without her." But the satisfaction she gained from the knowledge that he couldn't do without her was short-lived, and her ego had suffered too bruising a blow for her to maintain for long her role of sweet, forgiving but slightly-martyred wife. So her veiled recrimination had begun, and had gradually become more open and venomous, culminating in her accusations of today.
But she couldn't fool herself into thinking which she knew in her heart were unjustified, that her misery and discontent sprang completely from her husband's behavior. Even in her present misery, she was forced to admit that her unhappiness was accentuated by underlying discontent with her whole life. She had never dreamed when she had got engaged to the up and coming junior executive in the largest New England textile firm, that they would end up in the heart of New Hampshire farmland. She and Glen had such a good time in Boston, their first apartment, actually a tiny terraced house, their fast little sports car, and their young, happy-go-lucky friends. She had enjoyed so much being a working girl and wife, and her job as assistant buyer of Sportswear for a large department store was flexible enough so that she could take that bit of extra effort which made her dinner parties such a success. All her clothes were of the very latest fashion, and even though she got a discount on them, Glen's salary and hers combined had been generous enough to allow her to afford the extras, like that pale pink silk ankle-length dress and matching coat which she had got for the opening of the Opera season. Everything was going their way, and Anna actually enjoyed the weekends they spent in the White Mountains, away from everybody, in that fishing cabin Glen rented.
At that time, she thought rural life was romantic - sitting before a roaring fire in the big stone fireplace, lighting the kerosene lamps at night, cooking the fish Glen had caught. After their hectic weekday round of activities, it was great being alone together, and when they got back to Boston, all their friends used to exclaim enviously over their rustic experiences. It was just after their second wedding anniversary when the blow fell. Glen's company was moving south, and Glen decided to resign. Anna was glad about that, shuddering at the thought of moving to a small town in South Carolina, and had naturally assumed that Glen would take up another position with a similar company. But her husband had other ideas. His uncle had willed his rundown old farm in New Hampshire to Glen, and he had always had a strong urge to try his hand at farming. He had looked upon his company's removal from Boston as an act of Fate, and had felt that he had enough saved to enable them to give farming a try. Dividends would keep them going for a while and the capital would be sunk into the renovation and working of the farm.
Even now, six years later, Anna still shuddered at the memory of that appalling first year on the farm. The cold draughty house, the constant presence of the builders, with their clouds of cement dust, ceaseless hammering and banging, cooking and washing and existing in the most primitive conditions - Anna thought that she would never survive. All her clothes got torn and muddy and she had ceased to care about her appearance that first year. But the greatest change had been in Glen. He was obsessed with the farm - every spare minute was spent on it; it occupied his mind completely; nothing seemed to matter to him but the farm. Anna had nurtured the secret hope that the whole project would collapse and they could go back to the relative civilization of Boston. But nothing seemed to deter Glen - not even the loss of their small herd at the end of the first year through foot and mouth disease. He had become strangely stoical, and shrugged off his loss, and grimly went about restocking his farm with more of the huge, ponderous black and white animals of which Anna was deathly afraid. Glen used to tease her at first, saying that the languid Friesians wouldn't touch a fly, but he had gradually become more and more impatient with her when she refused to share his enthusiasm over them. As time went on, she lost her fear of them, and even developed sympathy for them, and she was unable to bear the mournful lowing that rent the air when the tiny furry calves were taken from their mothers so soon after birth.
Resentment had built up in her over the years as Glen became more and more immersed in farm life, and his often stated feeling that he was glad he had made the step from the City irked her considerably. Gradually, their friends from Boston stopped coming to see them, rapidly losing their idealized notions of rural life when they saw the day to day reality, and now Anna had lost touch with them completely. Her life was empty, pointless, she felt, and her husband's involvement with the agricultural instructor last year was the last straw for his demoralized wife. Life was no longer worth living, she thought - nothing would ever change; things would go on just as they were, with herself and Glen completely estranged.
She felt like crying again, but no tears would come. In fact, she felt devoid of all emotion, and the emptiness inside her at least eased the pain. Her mind was a blank as she got up from the couch, and wearily stretched herself. She felt old and tired - and beaten. I'm not old - why should I give up living? She asked herself, catching a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror that hung behind the door of the office, which was once a small bedroom. She knew her figure was still good, and she ran her eye critically over her reflection, noting the firm, braless upsweep of her full breasts through the raspberry colored angora dress she was wearing, the womanly curve of her graceful slender hips, the long expanse of her creamy legs. I'm not over the hill yet, she told herself, running a hand through her silky black hair which fell to just below her jawline where it swung into a point on either side of her oval face. Luxuriant dark lashes framed her vivid green eyes which even in her weariness sparkled back at her. What's the use? She mumbled to herself, turning away from her reflection. Who's going to see me here, vegetating in the wilderness? She conquered the fresh wave of bitterness rising inside her and with a sigh, sat down on Glen's swivel chair, in front of his untidy, littered desk. It was already the first week of the month, and she hadn't done the accounts for the previous one. Idly, she swept together the crumpled, disorganized sheaf of papers which was a jumbled mass of invoices, receipts and cancelled checks. Glad of something to take her mind off her troubles, she plunged into the task of sorting everything out and was soon immersed in her work. When she had made everything into three separate piles, she pulled open a drawer in the desk, and began to rummage about, looking for the ledger to make entries for the month. Why the hell doesn't he keep his desk tidier! she muttered to herself as she eased a long, hardbound book out of the drawer. As she removed it, her eye fell on a bulging manila envelope which had been wedged between another book and the one she had withdrawn.
"Now what's this doing here?" she muttered to herself, irked at the disorder in the files she had arranged only recently. Frowning slightly to herself, she fumbled with the envelope and discovered that it was full of photographs. Puzzled, she eased one out of the envelope.
"Oh my God!" she gasped aloud, unable to contain herself. The blood rushed to her face, crimsoning it a deep red. Tumultuous feelings of horror, disgust, and anger manifested themselves in a single sensation of overwhelming nausea. A numbed haze blinded her for an instant, and then she began to stare with bulging, disbelieving eyes at the colored print she was holding in her hand. Every detail was startlingly portrayed and the two figures in the photograph seemed amazingly alive. For a moment, Anna couldn't believe that she was seeing right, but there was no doubt about it - it was actually a photograph of a nude man and woman, sprawled out together, the woman's blonde head dipped between the man's widespread thighs, his grossly inflated penis clamped tightly between her ovalled red lips. The man's head was turned away, but there was no mistaking the expression on the rapt woman's face. She was enjoying taking that man's hardness in her mouth - her lustful desire was etched clearly on her eager face.
Anna felt her heart thudding painfully in her ribcage. She had heard, of course, that people did that sort of thing, but had always somehow felt that such an act did not belong in a normal marriage. The lascivious scene seemed to come to pulsating life under her hypnotized stare, and the huge blood-filled penis seemed to throb with lewd density as it lay cradled between the full, ripe lips that were clasping it so tenaciously. The woman's half-closed eyes seemed glazed with passion, and Anna felt a shudder of unknown sensation ripple through her. She couldn't seem to draw her eyes away from the obscene photograph. Her fingers seemed to be soldered to the glossy print, and somehow she felt that if she looked away from the perverted sight, she would tear herself away from a tenuous reality which her moribund emotions so badly needed, and go berserk with disgust and horror. How could he keep such filthy, lewd pictures? Her mind began to question. Does he look at them often? Where did he get them?
Her curiosity broke the spell the obscene photograph had on her conscientiousness, and hurriedly, she drew out another of the colored prints. Her eyes flew immediately to the scene, and a sudden, strangled moan of horror broke from her lips.
"Oh no! It can't be!" she groaned as she stared fixedly at the second photograph. This time, the shot was taken from a distance, but near enough to display in detail the pink moist delineations of a widespread pussy, the glistening lips gently swollen around a dark star-shaped opening. A man's face was juxtaposed over the splayed mouth, the tip of his long tongue poised at the entrance to the delicate roseate furrow. And there was no mistaking that face, so wreathed in anticipatory lust. It was Glen! For a moment, Anna couldn't believe that it was actually her husband who was portrayed in that disgusting snapshot, the wavy fair hair, his deep blue eyes, his fleshy sensuous lips. Numbed shock rushed in a roaring torrent to her head, threatening to explode, and she had to hold onto the arm of the swivel chair to steady herself. Glen! How could he do this to another woman? How could he let himself be photographed like that? She wanted to scream, to beat her fists against the wall, to turn back the clock and forget that she had ever seen the lewd pictures. Through the dim of her hurt and disgust, another thought nagged at her brain. This lascivious blonde in the photograph, who had splayed her legs so unreservedly for her husband, was not the same woman that Glen was having an affair with last year. So there had been others! New thundering anger swelled inside the distraught wife at the thought that she had been deceived, and furiously, she snatched the remaining photographs up and scanned them. Each one, seemingly more lewd than the previous one, leaped up at her horrified eyes as if to taunt her with the spectacle of her husband engaged in all different positions, with different women, and sometimes with more than one!
"That bastard! That dirty bastard!" Anna gasped, and in a fury of temper, began to splash out at the contents of the desk, scattering papers, letter trays, pens; everything went flying in all directions and fell to create untold chaos on the floor. Her anger unleashed beyond control, she yanked at the file drawers, pulling them completely away from their moorings, and dumped the files she had so carefully put in order, in a disheveled heap on the floor.
As suddenly as it came, her demonic flash of temper deserted her, and she sank back in hopeless bewilderment on the swivel chair. All around her, the records of the past eight years lay in disarray on the floor, and a dreadful sense of futility convulsed her.
"Oh God," she sobbed, "What did I do to deserve this?" She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders shook with the racking sobs which enveloped her. How many more were there? she asked herself piteously, torturing herself with images of various women that both she and Glen had known. Had he had an affair with all their friends? She wondered bitterly. In her jealous humiliated anger, new images began to inject themselves into her consciousness - glimpses she had caught of various naked bodies with full voluptuous breasts and creamy sinewy thighs, stretched out in opulent sensuality, seemingly oblivious to the unknown photographers who were busy snapping away as her husband caressed and stroked and kissed those velvety bodies. Her mind seemed unable to banish the lewd images, and fresh ones began to superimpose themselves in her fervid imagination. Glen kissing and savoring an open, exposed pussy, lewdly displayed and eagerly offered to him... Glen sinking his wildly excited penis into a greedy, grasping vaginal orifice, strong supple thighs egging him on... Glen lying back as luscious red lips encircled his bloated penis... The obscene snatches from the vile cache of photographs she had unwittingly uncovered played relentlessly in her mind, mocking her with their leering evidence of her husband's infidelities.
She felt broken in mind and spirit. The actuality which those photographs seemed to point to was too shocking for her to bear. Under the thin veneer of city sophistication she had acquired, Anna was still basically a conventional American wife, strict enough in her own way to the code of morality to which her family and all before her had subscribed. She had looked upon marriage as sacred, even in this day and age of quickie divorce and pre-marital and extra-marital sex, and had automatically assumed that any philandering on the part of her husband would stop after marriage. And she was sure it had! That was the hard part. She had been so snug and secure, even in the dark days of their early times on the farm, feeling cocooned in the sanctity of the wedded state, and that accounted for the tremendous shock she experienced when she had discovered her husband's affair last year. And now! She had uncovered devastating evidence that pointed to a whole series of adulterous infidelities! Involuntarily, she reached for the pile of photographs which had fallen to the ground amid the shambles of the office.
Almost disinterestedly, she scanned them over again. Yes, there was no doubt about it! There were three or four different girls involved in the debacle, and the pictures showed Glen involved with each and every one.
She studied a particularly lurid one, showing him and a tall lithe brunette stretched out, touching at only two places. His mouth was firmly planted in the nest of her dark pubic curls, and her mouth was tightly clasped around the red thick length of his penis. The girl's eyes were half-closed and her thick luxuriant hair fell in tendrils around her face, giving her an almost angelic look as she exalted in the feel and taste of Anna's husband's penis in her mouth. Anna continued to stare at the lewd shot. What did it feel like, having a man's male hardness locked tightly in your mouth? she wondered, amazed at the look of almost reverent ecstasy on the girl's face. Glen had tried once or twice, she remembered, pushing her head down under the blanket and she had, of course, refused to do anything like that. She had always thought it perverted, somehow, and yet, this girl seemed to be thoroughly aroused by it. And that blonde in the first picture, she mused in horrified fascination, flicking back to it, seems in ecstasy, too. Her attention was caught by one she hadn't scrutinized before. It showed a well-built redhead, her breasts full and vibrant, spread-eagled beneath Glen, whose engorged prick was sunk halfway into the soft, hair-fringed tunnel of her pussy. The girl's legs were wrapped around her husband's lower back and her spine was arched up off the bed as she strove to open her depths wider and deeper to him. Anna stared in lewd fascination at the minutely detailed photographs of sexual intercourse. Even her animosity to her husband seemed to retreat as she studied abstractly the obviously impassioned couple. The redhead's head was thrown back, and her mouth was open. Her hands were dug into his shoulders, and her whole body seemed afire. Glen's hands were clutching at her firm, upswept breasts, and Anna could see the reddened tips of her fully turgid nipples slipping out through his fingers. There was a look of pure animal desire on her husband's face, a look she hadn't seen in a long, long time! Despite herself, Anna felt a little tug of jealousy. She remembered how she used to arouse that complete passionate frenzy in her husband, how he used to be almost aflame with desire for her, and her alone, she was sure, and now, this redheaded hussy was the one who was making him act like that.
Sudden tears surprised her as they swam in her eyes. It isn't fair, she murmured to herself. It was so long since she had seen Glen crazed with desire, so long since he had even made love to her. She felt a sudden emptiness inside her, a feeling which she recognized as vague desire. It began to gnaw at her, worming its way insidiously into her depths, gaining a foothold in her numb body. He never tries to kiss me there anymore, the thought leapt into her head. It was years since he had tried to persuade her to allow him to put his head down between her thighs and kiss her pussy, but she had so vehemently and absolutely refused him when he had made the attempt. It can't be so bad, she muttered to herself, her eyes glued to another shot, this time of Glen with his face buried in the copper fleece of the redhead's openly throbbing cunt. Anna could see the moist flanges of the girl's pussy rimming Glen's wetly glistening nose and mouth, and her thighs were clamped and straining eagerly around his steaming face. The girl's eyes were closed and it was obvious that she was in the throes of complete abandon. Then, in spite of the shock and revulsion of seeing her husband locked in lewd, naked embrace with another woman, Anna felt a tingle beginning between her own legs, a ripple that seemed to grow as her eyes continued to focus on the spectacle of her husband's groveling between another woman's widespread thighs. How did it feel, to have a man's tongue licking and sucking and blowing his hot, passionate breath into that secret place, have his mouth warm and caressing around your clitoris, feel his kiss on your nakedly exposed pubic mound?
Her feverish mind threw the questions at herself, and suddenly, she felt hot all over, covered with a cloying clamminess that made her feel like tearing her dress from her body. She was dimly aware that she was unconsciously clenching her heated thighs together and imperceptibly grinding her buttocks into the leather of the swivel chair. The tingling in her loins grew and the gnawing inside her burst into a devouring flame and she wondered vaguely what was happening. Her eyes flickered aimlessly to another picture, and a startled gasp eluded her as she stared in disbelief at what she saw. Anna thought that the photographs she had already examined had prepared her to a point where she was beyond surprise, but she was wrong. She gaped in astonishment at the candid snapshot, unable and unwilling to believe that it was her husband who was actually inserting his huge, lust-hardened penis in the blonde's tiny puckered ass! But there was no doubt about it - the photograph showed in unerring detail the enormous girth of Glen's blood-inflated prick encircled by the brown crinkled little rectal mouth, stretched cruelly around the massive circumference. This lasciviously depicted anal entry was too much for Anna. Revulsion swept through her - disgust at the knowledge that the man she had married could and did indulge in such an animalistic, carnal act, a thing she, a grown woman, had only heard about in whispers. It was too shameful to even think about; it was disgusting! And yet, Anna noticed in amazement, the blonde didn't seem to mind it. In fact, she seemed to like it, judging by the lewd look of delight on her passion-contorted face. Oh God, what was going on? Her world seemed to have gone topsy-turvy, and all the opinions she had held on such matters seemed to have been refuted by the pictorial evidence she held in her hand. These girls weren't being abused, subjected to a man's whim or desire - they were actually enjoying it! They seemed to love all the obscene things Glen was doing to them... they were reveling in what to her would be the lowest kind of debasement.
Bewilderment crowded in on Anna, and she felt completely out of control of the situation. Her hands rose slowly to her breasts, and she gasped as she felt the electrifying effect her own touch had on the now sensuously throbbing mounds. But she couldn't take her hands away - somehow she felt that she had only herself to turn to help her get over this terrible discovery. She felt strangely different, as if her perusal of the lewd pornographic pictures had touched off a streak of insanity in her, and she could no longer control her stampeding libido. Her mind was fermenting with images of the various positions she had seen in the photographs, and lurid thrills were beginning to shoot up and down her body. Involuntarily, she pressed her palms down her sides, along her hips, and then dipped them between her nylon-encased thighs. Immediately, she felt as if her vaginal mound was straining to reach the comfort of her own hands, and she felt a rush of inner moisture proclaim the intensity of the weird sensations. She could feel that the crotch-band of her panties was slightly moistened and her fingers inched forward, like individual bloodhounds on the scent of a relentless target.
Moments of rationality broke intermittently through the clouds of her frenzy, and taunted her with unanswerable questions. What had turned her into a roiling mass of feverish desire? Was it because Glen hadn't made love to her for so long? Or were the dirty pictures having an illicit prurient effect on her? Her fingers kneaded at the burning lips of her moistened pussy through the flimsy panties and Anna winced from the delicious contact. Why should I be denied pleasure? her mind argued dimly. All those girls were enjoying themselves; Glen was pleasing them: it's not fair that I should be left out.
As though they had received assent, her fingers burrowed hurriedly under the leg band of her panties and teased over to the tingling flesh of her swollen pussy lips, and Anna felt the fleshy folds pulsate under her sensitive fingertips. She sighed from the exquisite sensation, feeling relief flow through her. This is wrong. YOU SHOULD NOT DO THIS! Veiled threats echoed through her mind, hidden warnings from schoolgirl-filled corridors... dark messages about evil masturbation. But Anna was too intoxicated with the rush of pleasure to pay any heed to her own sombre warnings, and her fingers continued to plunge into the warm deep recesses of her desire-drenched pussy. Nothing mattered to her now - the whys and wherefores were unimportant - all that she was concerned with was quenching the raging fires that had sprung up unattended in her loins, and which required heavenly fuel to feed its lascivious hunger before it allowed itself to be put out.
Suddenly irritated by the impediment of her panties, her hands began to tear impatiently at them, and she raised her hips from the swivel chair, and eased them down over her thighs, leaving them dangling at her knees. But she didn't care about that - her hands were rolling up her soft angora dress and bunching it about her hips, and she reveled in the freedom of exposing her passion-enflamed loins to the cool evening air which was rushing in from the half-opened office window. Her fingers dug impatiently again at her burning furrow, and convulsively probed at the trembling hole of her clasping cunt.
"Aaaaaahhhhhhhh..." she couldn't suppress a sigh as her hand cupped onto the now moistly pulsating orifice and she felt the heated walls close in like a vise on her sunken middle finger. The passion inside her was goaded on to greater fever by the lurid thoughts which had taken possession of her head and would not yield. Obscene thoughts framed by the disgusting photographs she had seen, images of desire and lust instigated by many actions and acted out in many forms. She was almost convinced that a large heated penis was ramming into her eager, open pussy, that she was one of those girls whose head was thrown back in complete abandon, whose mouth was open and from which a stream of sighs was rushing, whose hips were churning under the delicious onslaught of a heavy, passion-bloated cock which was plunging deeper and deeper and harder into her.
Waves of heat were washing over her now as she ground her buttocks down into the leather of the seat and revolved her saturated fingers around inside the velvety interior of her febrile vaginal sheath. A feeling of dizziness was taking control of her, coupled with a wonderful sensation of relief, and now she knew she was cumming, because she felt so good all over, and her hips were jerking uncontrollably, and a mist of hot, feminine orgasmic fluid washed down over her churning fingers, and she felt the office revolve around her and her head was torpedoed by a kaleidoscope of collaged nude figures, male and female, all fucking and sucking and licking in total frenzy, and she was at the center of it all, and she was loving it, every minute of it.
Anna slunk back against the chair, drained of all energy, curiously devoid of all feeling but a satiated stupor which controlled her and made it impossible for her to do anything, not even pull her dress down over her naked thighs. Her legs were splayed, her panties hanging uselessly at her knees, and in the dim of the mortification which was beginning to manifest itself inside her, she coldly reassured herself: "He'll pay for this. As God is my witness, I'll make him pay for this."
Russell Seavers eased himself down from the ledge under the office window, and with a furtive glance around, slunk off into the foliage that surrounded the Haak's house. He was still trembling with excitement, and could hardly believe what he had seen. Later, when he got to his quarters, he would go over it all again in his mind, dwelling on every single detail of what he had seen. He couldn't quite believe that he had been so lucky. He thanked his lucky stars that he had decided to have a peek when he saw the window open in the office, and heard muffled sounds from inside. Of course, it was fairly dim inside, but still, he could see what was going on.
I saw her! I saw her fingerfucking her own pussy! He chuckled to himself, treasuring the memory of the faint glimmer of hair-lined pink he had glimpsed between her open thighs as he eavesdropped on the demented woman. He had seen her flimsy white little panties dangling at her knees, too. Who'd have thought that he, a mere farmhand, would have got a front row seat, and seen with his own eyes the beautiful wife of his boss, playing with herself? All the nights he'd dreamed about the lovely, haughty Mrs. Haak, all the times he'd imagined what she'd be like with her dignity lost and stripped bare-ass naked; now he'd seen her, half-naked anyway. She didn't see him, didn't know he'd been watching, but he had been, and God, he wouldn't have missed it for anything.
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Chapter 2.
Seduction Function
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Glen hurried over to the dairy and went straight to the milking parlor. He spotted Erin right away, standing to the right of the long row of cows already chained in the milking passage. She had put on a white coat, and her blonde hair was piled high on her head, and capped with a small band of white. Even with her fair, creamy skin, she did not look washed-out, and Glen thought to himself how attractive she looked in the white dairy coat. Her ample curves were cleverly accentuated by the tightly belted garment and Glen could not resist running his eyes over her proud, full E-cup breasts jutting out like snow-capped peaks, the slight sway of her molded hips, and the long arch of her shapely legs. She was talking to Russell Seavers, and turned when she heard Glen come in.
"Good evening, Miss Bann. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."
"Oh no, Mr. Haak. Russell here has been showing me the ropes and making me feel at home. And do call me Erin, please."
"All right, Erin," Glen laughed. "We don't stand on formality here, so you might as well call me Glen."
Glen felt more at ease when Russell had ambled off to attend to the animals already milked. He felt a warm friendliness exuding silently from Erin, and it comforted him somehow, as he was still stinging from Anna's verbal blows. He felt that her accusations had been unjust; he had bent over backwards over the past year to make up for the affair she had found out about, and yet nothing seemed to please her. She had changed so much over the past few years, he mused sadly to himself; she wasn't the same woman he'd married, laughing, full of fun, ready for anything. She had turned into a nagging, whining shrew and didn't seem to care whether he was there or not. It was that feeling of not being wanted that had made him seek refuge in other women. Of course, he felt guilty about it, feeling like a rat as he slunk off to his clandestine meetings, but he had to do something, or he'd go mad. Still, it was unfair of her to accuse him of being interested that way in Erin. He'd be mad to try anything with her, right under Anna's nose. Not that he'd mind.
"A penny for them!" Erin's light-hearted voice chimed in on his rambling thoughts, and her interruption caused him to blush to the roots of his hair.
"I'm sorry, Miss... Erin, I mean... I've been so rude; I was completely carried away..." he stammered, conscious of her twinkling gray eyes fixed on him. He felt awkward, like a schoolboy. Her searching graze was so intent, he felt sure for a brief instant that she must have read his thoughts, but knew that was ridiculous.
"Well," he began lamely, "do you think you'll enjoy working here?"
"Oh yes," she exclaimed, smiling widely. "Everything's so up-to-date, and you've got a fine herd. Russell showed me around everywhere, and I even saw your donkey herd. That broken-colored stallion is magnificent!"
"Yes, he's a fine fellow, isn't he? Imported from England from one of the champions over there. I hope to have some good progeny from him next year."
"How is he working out as a sire?" Erin asked interestedly. Glen started, her question disturbing him. What did she mean? She knew he had only just got the stallion, that there wouldn't be any foals till next year.
"Eh, what do you mean?" he asked guardedly.
"I mean, does he do the job properly? He looked pretty young to me!"
Glen found himself coloring again. What was the matter with the girl, asking questions like that?
"He's able to manage," Glen faltered, and immediately turned his attention to placing the clusters on the first cow's teats. Normally, the dairy girl and Russell did the actual milking, but as Erin was new, and the machine might be unfamiliar to her, Glen had decided to help her, in case she needed any instructions or had any problems.
"I love the feel of a cow's teat in my hand," Erin mused to him, moving on to the next animal. "It feels so soft, so sensuous," she went on dreamily, "and it almost comes to life as the milk flows through it, and the thick frothy cream spurts out of it..." Glen was glad he was hidden from her sight, and that she couldn't see the flushed look of astonishment on his face. Her voice was so hazy, her tone so sultry, and Glen could see out of the corner of his eye that she was caressing one of the pink-tinged teats as tenderly and lovingly as if. He felt stunned by the impact of his own lewd thought. As if it were a man's cock! That was the thought that leaped into his head and drummed persistently at his consciousness.
"Glen, could you help me please!" she called out suddenly, and he found himself rushing over to her, glad of the chance to be near her again. She was hunched over one of the milk tube clusters which was lying on the ground, and Glen's eyes were drawn, as if by a magnet, to the exciting split between the tops of her creamy white breasts. He was mesmerized by the enticing glimpse of her deep cleft and had to drag his eyes away when she looked anxiously up at him.
I seem to have lost one of the tops," she said worriedly, and Glen got down on his knees beside her, and scanned the straw for the dark-rimmed cap.
"Here it is!" he said suddenly, picking it out of a golden sheaf, and he began to screw it back into the tube.
"Oh thank goodness you found it," Erin breathed, laying one of her small white hands on his thigh, "I was so worried." Her touch was like a firebrand on his flesh and when he looked at her, she was smiling at him.
"Well, we'd better get on with the milking," he said weakly, and reluctantly, it seemed to him, she removed her hand from his thigh. He suddenly felt bereft, as if a part of him was missing. Pull yourself together, he chided himself, you're acting like a teenager, imagining all sort of ridiculous things.
They worked silently, preparing all the cows for milking, and Glen's thoughts were swirling around in his head. He couldn't shake loose the memory of her touch on his thigh. Did she mean to do that, or was it just an accident? And what did she mean by all that stuff about the teat?
Finally, Glen switched on the milking machine, and the barn was filled with the vibratory sounds of the pulsator.
"Mmm, mmm, it's hot in here!" Erin said suddenly, and began to unbutton her dairy coat.
"D'you mind if I take this off?" she queried Glen, and when he replied, "of course not," she removed it, and Glen saw that she was wearing a red see-through blouse and a tight black mini-skirt. He could see that she was wearing a matching red bra, really only a strip of lace and his eyes were riveted on the generous mounds of her ivory breasts which were visible through the red nylon.
"Do you like them?" Erin's voice broke in on his distraction, and he could only stare open-mouthed at her. Had he heard her right? His heart began to thud uncomfortably in his chest and he was at a loss as to what to do.
"Would you like to see them?" Again her gay, mocking voice startled him.
"Wha..." he could only stammer.
"Would you like to see my breasts, Glen?" she asked again with exaggerated slowness, walking a step closer to him.
"Are you out of your mind?" Glen snapped, afraid that his mind was playing tricks on him. "This is no time for games!"
"I'm not playing any games!" Erin said slyly, and Glen watched in boggling disbelief as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on her sheer blouse. Gaping, he saw the edges fall away and reveal the exquisite form of her perfectly molded breasts, made all the more provocative by the dainty confines of her lacy bra. He could see the alabaster flesh heaving slightly and was hypnotized by the rhythmic rise and fall of the luscious orbs.
Incredibly, he saw Erin's hand slip around to the back, and in a moment, she was shrugging the thin satin straps from her smooth, pearly shoulders.
"Christ, they're beautiful!" He couldn't resist gasping as the full glory of her exquisitely sculpted breasts came into his astonished view. Craning his neck, his eyes bulged as he stared at the creamy expanse of the silky mounds, surmounted by delicate pink nipples, semi-erect from the rustling of her bra. Her hands crept up and cupped the full rounded young spheres, thrusting them out, pointing the hardening little buds at her disbelieving employer.
"God, Erin, I..." he murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from the half-naked girl. His head was swirling - things were happening too fast for him. He could feel the protuberance of his cock growing, and it was beginning to swell against the confines of his pants. His hands fidgeted by his sides - they itched to reach out and clasp those glorious globes of young college-girl tit flesh, to knead and pummel them. His mouth longed to take the tiny budding nipples between his lips, coax them into turgidity with his tongue, nip on their sweetness with his teeth. God, she was driving him mad, standing there half-dressed, like some youthfully naked Venus. She moved closer to him, so close that her naked breasts brushed against the blue denim of his work shirt, and the delicious contact sent eddies of almost intolerable pleasure soaring through him. Sinuously, she rubbed the hardened tips against his chest, purring like a cat, her arm resting casually on his thigh again. He wanted to pull away, order his errant young employee to get dressed, get on with the milking, but he couldn't. What he really wanted to do was take her in his arms, crush his mouth down on hers, knock the breath out of her with his kiss, caress those ripe tits of hers, and then fuck her, yes, fuck her to within an inch of her life. Instead, he managed to inch backward a little.
"Erin... we shouldn't," he faltered, his eyes dropping again to the sensuous grace of her unadorned breasts.
"We shouldn't... what?" she queried boldly.
"We... you shouldn't... tease a man like that!" he gasped, feeling his face flush. Yes, that's what she was doing, teasing him with her naked tits, her sulky voice, her veiled hints. Well, she'd better watch her step, or she'd get more than she bargained for!
"I'm-not-teasing!" she enunciated, her hand slowly reaching for the side zip of her brief black skirt. With a horrified stare, he watched as she eased the skirt down over her full hips, slipping it down her thighs, and kicking it aside as it reached her ankles, leaving her nude except for a tiny pair of bikini briefs the same startling red as her bra.
"For God's sake, Erin, anyone could come in..." Glen gasped, his eyes riveted on the golden triangle of pubic curls squashed beneath the sheer fabric of her panties.
"So what?" Erin laughed. "You're a man, and I'm a woman. What we do is our business... isn't it?"
"You're crazy!" Glen rasped. "You'd better get dressed before... before I...."
"Before you go out of your mind?" she taunted, moving in a little circle around the demented man.
"That's right, you teasing little bitch!" Glen rasped, his control snapping like a straw inside him. "You can't expect to go prancing around in front of a man, naked like that, and not affect him. You should know what this could lead to, the temptation you're putting my way. I'm only flesh and blood, and this is more than any man can take!" He railed on, his mouth dry and his voice hoarse, fighting to control the demons of lust which were mutinying inside him. She continued to look at him with her mocking eyes.
"Poor Glen!" she clucked, her hand dropping down and cradling the considerable bulge of his swollen prick in her palm. "What are you getting so uptight about?" she crooned as she began to massage the growing organ, feeling it pulse hotly in her hand.
Perspiration broke out on Glen's face. What the hell did she think she was doing? Poor Glen indeed! She thought she could twist him around her little finger. Well, he'd show her he wasn't the milquetoast she thought he was!
"Now listen, Erin," he began, but her hand was already drawing down the zipper of his pants, and his demented cock, rejoicing in its sudden freedom, leaped up, cleaving the air, the red bulbous head grotesque in its palpitating arousal. His mouth hinged open as he stared down at the apparition of his own blood-engorged prick, and he moaned from the tremendous contact between her cool fingers and his heated, throbbing flesh. Her hands stroked and kneaded the elongated rod, drawing it out into an even greater length and Glen felt powerless to do anything but stand there and allow his new employee to stroke his ever hardening cock in her masterful, exciting way.
"Mmmm, what a nice big cock you've got, Glen!" Erin hummed, continuing her rhythmic pummeling of his pulsating organ, "I just know I'm going to enjoy working for you."
Her hand reached in and cupped the squirming sac of his testicles in her palm, and Glen felt rising shivers of ecstasy course through him, emanating from the sensitive balls. Glen leaned back against the edge of the stall, lost in the sensual reverie that Erin was weaving around him. God, her hand felt so good on his cock, stroking and kneading like that... it was a long time since he'd felt a hot hand on his prick... too long, in fact... Anna never touched him there... Anna! The memory of his wife jarred him back to reality. She could easily walk in here, find him like this, being stroked and caressed by this young voluptuous agricultural student! It would mean the end of everything, their marriage, all they had worked for! She'd never forgive him!
With a tortured groan, he wrenched back from Erin and backed out of the stall. His face burning, he stuffed his long suffering penis back into his pants, and hurried over and turned off the milking motor.
I don't know what came over me..." he mumbled. I must've been crazy; anybody could have come in!" Unable to meet her gaze, Glen hurried over to the cows, and began to undo the clusters frenziedly, his fingers shaking.
"Glen!" Erin's soft voice was directly behind him. Squatting to remove the clusters from the cow's teats, he half-turned and saw Erin standing directly behind him.
"My God!" he gasped, the milk-clusters falling from his hands. She was stark naked! She was standing with her legs slightly apart, and he could just barely see the faint pink sheen of her pussy lips peeping out from under the soft resilient thatch of golden curls. His throat felt arid, and his voice failed him. He could only stare. She was like a creature from another world. A strange, exotic female who towered over him, and was omnipotent. She held the power to transmit incredible sensual ecstasy to him, and he was her slave.
"Erin?" he managed to croak feebly.
And then she was beside him, kneeling on the soft straw, pushing him gently back. He was unresisting, borne along on the wind of her tremendous sexuality. He was completely in her power, and yielded as she once more freed the heated protuberance of his bulging cock. He sighed an uncontrollable moan as it sprang up from the forest of his pubic hair and gasped again as her fingers once more encircled it, pulling on it gently. Her fingers were easing off his pants, and were titillating along his thighs, sending chills of pleasure rippling up and down and along his skin, and kindling great flames of heat deep in the pit of his stomach. Like a robot, his hands reached up eagerly for the target they yearned, and grabbed the full soft mounds of her tender breasts, and clutched at the delicate flesh with his talon-like fingers, making her wince from the sudden pain, and leaving little red welts on the smooth white skin. His fingers drubbed the hard little beads of her nipples, rubbing them mercilessly, tugging on them until they were rigid little spears. Beside him, the cow fidgeted nervously, anxious over the unaccustomed disturbance at her feet, and Glen felt a moment's paralyzing fear lest her hooves lash out at his prostrate body. But all practical consideration fled from his brain as he felt his young milk maid settle herself over him, her long smooth thighs straddling his naked hips and Glen could feel the graze of her soft curling pubic hair as it brushed against his naked stomach. Still grasping his distended cock in her hand, she began to guide it towards the warm grasping furrow of her cunt, and Glen sighed with pleasure as he felt the hard rubbery head caress the soft delicate tissue already moist with expectation.
She began to sweep the bulging head of his inflated prick along the length of her pulsating cuntal split, and the fluted edges of her moistly glistening inner lips clung tenaciously to his hard masculine flesh, and the bulbous head became lubricated with her free-flowing vaginal juices. His head was swirling and a wave of pleasure, such as he had not experienced in a long time, was washing over him again and again, and with each cleansing wave, he was laved of any doubts and fears he might have had. Gone was all worry about his wife or anyone else finding him stretched out with his naked young female employee; gone completely was any fear of discovery. All that mattered was the unbelievable thrill of ecstasy he was feeling and which he knew would mount up to an incredible crescendo of hedonistic delight.
"Mmmmm," Erin sighed, "your cock feels so good against my pussy."
The lewd words coming from the young, innocent faced girl's lips excited Glen even more and he felt lust mushrooming inside him and threatening to turn him into a raving beast. His hands flew down and grasped the girl's slim tapering hips, and held her in a vise-like grip. Hungrily, he began to rotate her entire pelvis until she was revolving over the spongy cap of his burgeoning penis still grasped firmly in her hand. Gingerly, she began to position herself over the jutting instrument, easing down, until she had managed to insert the huge distended head up inside the tender inner folds of her pussy.
"Aaaaahhhhhhh," she sighed, accustoming herself to the hard feeling of a heavy, pounding prick inside her. But the initial contact unleashed the fury of Glen's lust, and with a savage snarl, he crashed the helpless girl's pelvis downward, driving his thick rod upwards with flesh-splitting cruelty.
"AAAARRRRGHHHHHHHH," Erin screamed out and struggled in a vain attempt to dislodge the terrible instrument from her unsuspecting depths. But she was completely skewered, and the fleshy hair-lined outer lips of her pulsing pussy were resting on the tickling nest of Glen's blond pubic forest. Beside them, the cow snorted, frightened by the ear-piercing scream, and began to paw the ground ominously.
Glen's fingers clawed at the soft resilient flesh of Erin's smooth rounded buttocks as he raised her loins upward, feeling her sensitive inner membrane cling to his hard fleshy rod as her heated vaginal sheath slid upwards. He held her poised above him, leaving just the hard burgeoning head still buried inside her, and then he crashed her down again, feeling the spongy global mounds of her buttocks flatten down against his pubic area as his tunneling prick plunged far up inside her, cleaving her unaccustomed flesh with cruel obstinacy. He could feel the pliant entrance of her cringing womb yield before his unabated onslaught and a gasp of mingled shock and excitement escaped her as she felt the unexpected pressure so deep up inside her impaled belly.
Erin's eager pussy had accustomed itself to the ponderous girth of Glen's trammeling penis, and she began to move up and down freely, establishing a yo-yo like rhythm. Glen's palpitating cock seemed to expand even more inside her and she responded with a gentle tentative flexing of her practiced inner muscle which seemed to excite him to even greater lust. His hands shot up eagerly and enfolded the enticing orbs of her breasts in his palms, and they rubbed and caressed her throbbing flesh, sending chill after chill curdling through her blood, making passion pulse hotly through her veins.
"Oh God, Glen," she gasped, her hands clutching at his tensely corded thighs, "your hands feel good on my tits, as good as your cock feels inside me."
Tremors of passion were spasming through Glen. Erin's lewd words of praise sent lurid shivers running up and down his spine and doubled the already incredible pleasure he was feeling. He could hardly believe what was happening! Only this morning, this girl was a complete stranger, newly arrived from Agricultural School, and now, after a turn of events which had left him breathless, they were fucking, or rather, she was fucking him! Yes, she was the one who had seduced him, and who was now riding him like a savage Indian girl on a half-wild mustang, her thighs clenching his hips viciously, and the soft inner hole up between her legs milking furiously on his rampaging cock. He had never experienced anything like this before - stretching out on the soft golden straw, being screwed by a real woman - because that's what Erin was, there was no doubt about that. Beside him, the cow lowed deeply, finally accepting the strange, nakedly writhing couple beside her, and Glen felt her breath, warm and sweet scented, wafting gently over his perspiring face.
Glen glanced up and saw that Erin's face was coated with perspiration, her mouth was half open, and her head was flung back. Her luxuriant coils of curls had become undone and her silky flaxen hair was streaming down like a silver stream over her bare creamy shoulders. He had released his savage hold on her breasts and now the full ripe spheres were bobbing from her exertion, the reddish-brown nipples jutting out like berries, and the brown aureoles were crinkled in their contracted excitement. His lust-glazed eyes traveled down the length of her magnificent body, coated with moisture, reveling in the soft yet supple milkiness of it, the provocative curve of her womanly hips, the lemon-colored fleece of pubic down which meshed so indistinguishably with his own. Her long slender thighs were like alabaster columns and Glen could see that the inner tendons stood out like whipcord against the ivory inner skin. She continued to grind wildly up and down on his jerking prick, making a little teasing rotary movement as she rose up. Her fingers slipped around behind her squirming buttocks and stroked the squirming sac of his testicles in a sudden swift movement which sent his roiling sperm into a frenzy of churning liquid deep inside the darkness of his balls.
"Christ, Erin," he panted through the breathlessness of his mounting passion, "you're, you're incredible! Oh God, keep tickling my balls like that!"
Glen felt a rush of heat that started in the pit of his stomach rise up in an overpowering curtain and steam through him, and at the same time, his cock began to jerk uncontrollably and the ache in his writhing balls had become unbearable.
"AAAAAGGGHHHHHHH, keep fucking, keep fucking, I'm cumming! I'm CUUUMMMMIIINNNGGGGG!!!"
And then his body was caught up in a gigantic whirlwind, and he thought he would lose consciousness because a blackness appeared in front of his eyes, and he felt he was drifting away, but his faltering rationality was arrested by Erin's own hoarse screams.
"Oh God Glen, I'm cumming too. I'm... AAAHHHHHHH... !!" And she was cumming too, her pelvis pounding against his like gigantic waves against storm-tossed rocks. Her fingers were like razor-sharp spears cutting into the flesh of his hips, and the interior muscle of her vaginal sheath was an insatiable entity of its own. It was sucking, demanding, and getting, its life-giving quencher of his thick store of semen, which suddenly began to spurt along the pulsating tube of his spasming penis and hose hotly up into the heated cavern of her pussy. Almost immediately it seemed, the frothy liquid trickled back down around his pumping prick and seeped into the matted pubic curls, already moistened with the shower of her orgasmic release. The cow was blowing hot puffs of breath down onto Glen's steaming face, her big liquid brown eyes staring in boggled amazement at her two temporary stall companions. Her big, wet white nose just touched Glen's face as the last heave convulsed his dying prick and he emptied the final drop of his boiling semen into Erin's still hungrily twitching pussy. At last, the exhausted girl collapsed onto his panting body, and his now limp prick slipped easily from her wet, cock-stretched passage.
"That, that was the best fuck I've ever had!" Glen acknowledged gratefully. And it was. There was something about the spontaneity of the act which impassioned him to fever pitch, and the girl's own total sexuality, and lack of restraint, unleashed a similar characteristic in him. "You're quite a girl, Erin," he added admiringly.
"You're a real man yourself, Boss," Erin praised, smiling down at him. "You sure know how to please a girl!"
She lay her face down on his chest so he couldn't see her widening grin. Things are working out just great, she thought happily. She had been thrilled when she had met her new boss, captivated right away by his virile good looks, and now she had discovered that he had above average talent in other respects, too. Yes, she murmured to herself, I think I'm going to enjoy myself very much on this job!
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Chapter 3.
Reluctant Rape
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Anna threw her corduroy jacket over her shoulders and stepped out into the yard. There was a slight breeze which alleviated some of the premature heat of early May, and she began to amble towards the barns. She was glad the house was a short distance away from them - she didn't think she could stand it if the animals were milling about directly outside the front door. There was nobody about and Anna was grateful for that. She didn't feel like talking to anyone this morning, and particularly not to Erin, who turned out to be a very talkative type, always anxious to engage herself or anyone else in conversation. Anna had seen her several times talking to Russell in the yard, and she had caught several glimpses of Glen and Erin laughing intimately together.
Glen himself had been very incommunicative when she brought up the subject of the new dairy help and how she was working out. Of course, she reflected, after that dreadful fight they'd had, she couldn't expect him to confide in her. She wished now that she hadn't been so hasty in accusing him of being interested in Erin; that she had kept her suspicions to herself, but the damage was done, and now she couldn't help thinking that there was something going on between them. It was several days now since they'd had that fight and Glen usually tried to make up with her right away after such an argument, regardless of whose fault it was, but this time, he just didn't seem to care. That was the part that hurt, he didn't seem to care anymore what she thought or felt. She felt it was a stroke of luck that he'd gone into town early this morning and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. It would give her time to think, and maybe even plan some strategy for getting back in his good books. But if he is really interested in that girl, I don't know what I'll do, she worried, and afraid she might have gone too far. She hated to admit it to herself, but there was no denying that Erin was really attractive, and she had a slow, sensual way about her that Anna knew was exciting to men. She felt a twinge of jealousy stab at her, and tried to banish from her mind the nagging suggestion, almost a certainty, she feared, that Glen had become involved with the new dairy maid. No matter what happened, she didn't want to lose Glen. But should I just sit back and let him play around with that little blonde right under my nose? She argued. Almost painfully, she thought again of the cache of pornographic pictures she'd discovered, lewd filthy photographs of Glen in disgusting positions with different women. The shock of finding them still affected her, and her subsequent action of getting aroused by them shamed her through and through. She didn't even allow herself to think of that evening, when she had shamelessly fingered her own pussy and actually reached a climax, all from the sensations, evil, wicked sensations, aroused in her by the vile snapshots. Every time the thought came into her mind, when the memory tried to torment her, she had brushed them back into oblivion, waiting for time to erase the sharp-honed edge of her humiliation.
"Good morning, Mrs. Haak," a voice sang out suddenly behind her. It was Russell Seavers, and Anna, turning around, saw that he was leading Jacob, the donkey stallion.
"Good morning, Russell," she replied, feigning cheerfulness, and immediately turning her attention to the animal. She hated having anything to do with the hired hand. She never knew what to say to him, always being afraid of sounding too familiar, or worse still, acting very haughty with him. She began to stroke the donkey's strong arched neck.
"Jacob seems to be in fine shape," she mused, running her eyes admiringly over the animal's sleek black and white body.
"All the exercise he gets keeps him trim," Russell smirked, and Anna turned to look at him.
"I thought he's kept inside for the season," Anna puzzled. The donkeys were the only animals she was really interested in on the farm, and it was she who had encouraged Glen to keep them in the first place. They were becoming very popular everywhere, and top quality foals could fetch very high prices. They had ten mares, and just this one stallion.
"That's what I mean," Russell leered. "His mares keep him busy, and he sure knows how to rise that big rod of his. Yes sir," he went on, staring intently at her, "them she-donkeys sure seem to love that long prick of his shoved far up in their, well, you know."
"How-how dare you!" Anna gasped, her face scarlet, mortified with embarrassment at the farmhand's lewd words. Who did he think she was, that he could talk to her like that, use such filthy language in her presence? Anger seethed inside her like bubbling oil, threatening to overflow and scald everything within distance. But she managed to control her feelings and said in a low, even voice: "Please watch your language, Russell. Mr. Haak does not tolerate obscenities, and I would hate to have to report your despicable behavior to him." Even to her own ears, her words sounded dictatorial and stuffy, but her shock was still electrically alive inside her, and she was incensed at the liberty the worker had taken with her. She had a good mind to tell Glen, and perhaps even have Russell fired for his insolence.
Russell looked the picture of the abject servant. He held his old cap in his hand, and his reddish-gray hair glinted in the morning sun. His head was slightly bent and Anna saw with satisfaction that his face was suitably blanched with fear and consternation. Jacob stood by calmly, seemingly totally unaware of the minor drama his presence had caused. Without another word, Anna stalked away, leaving Russell glaring after her. Fucking bitch, he spat. Can't even take a joke. Well, she'll get her come-uppance one of these days; I'll see to that! In fact, tonight just might not be a bad time!
Anna felt irked by the sound of the back doorbell. She had just settled down to watch TV, and was looking forward to relaxing for a few hours. She had spent most of the day in the garden, digging and transplanting the seedlings she had sown in the spring, and she felt tired and wind burned when she finally came into the house and fixed a cold supper for herself. The heavy physical work of gardening had taken her mind off her worries, and now she had been hoping that the television would do the same, and that she would feel sleepy after watching a few shows, as she usually did, and that she would then drop off easily to sleep.
With a sigh, she got up and went through the kitchen and opened the door. She experienced a flicker of distaste that coupled with her annoyance when she saw who was there.
"Good evening, Russell," she said tonelessly, not bothering to hide her irritation.
Sorry to bother you, ma'am," Russell muttered, fidgeting with his cap, his eyes downcast. "But the fuses went in the barn an' I can't see to do my work."
"Well, I think I've got some in the kitchen," Anna said curiously relieved that he had a legitimate reason for calling on her so late in the evening. She found, somewhat to her surprise, that she had a new fear of the farm worker, a fear born from his distasteful remarks to her that morning. She sensed that there was an underlying hostility or arrogance in his attitude to her, and that his disrespect was a form of that aggression.
She noticed with displeasure that he had followed her into the kitchen, and willing herself to take no notice of him, began to look for the fuses. She wasn't quite sure where they were and rummaged around in the kitchen drawer. They weren't there and she knew that they must be on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet, where she kept the electric light bulbs.
"I'll get them, ma'am," Russell suggested when she told him, but she declined. She couldn't stand the thought of his dirty, and she supposed, clumsy hands on her clean kitchen cupboard, and unable to suppress a sigh, pulled the kitchen steps over in position. Mounted on the third step, she noticed that Russell had moved even closer to her so that he was almost directly under her. Thank goodness I'm wearing slacks she thought as she groped around for the fuses. Relieved to find them easily, she began to descend, thinking maybe now he'll go away and leave me alone.
Suddenly, she stiffened. The blood pulsed wildly in her veins and a sudden wave of heat engulfed her and threatened to overcome her. She just couldn't believe what was happening. His hands were on her buttocks, feeling them, squeezing them - he was actually caressing her back there!
She didn't know what to do. Fear washed over her, followed quickly by revulsion, disgust, and anger. She hesitated for a split second on the steps. Should she order him to stop, or should she just ignore it? If she got angry, perhaps she might intimidate him, but on the other hand, he was brazen enough to touch her like that, and he might get violent. But conversely, if she just ignored him, might he not interpret that as an invitation to continue? Oh God, what should I do? She wondered wildly. His work-coarsened hands continued their lewd manipulation of her softly yielding asscheeks, kneading and clutching, and it seemed to the agonized woman that an eternity passed in those few seconds. Then, she could stand it no longer.
"Take your hands off me, you disgusting old man!" she shrieked, almost falling from the steps in her sudden angry horror. Relieved, she found herself on the ground once more, and gave vent to her feelings.
"How dare you? How dare you put your hands on me? I'll see you're fired for this. Your impertinence today was enough, but you've gone too far this time!" She stood glaring at him, panting from her exasperated speech, her green eyes flashing like sparkling emeralds.
"No need for you to get on your high horse with me, lady," Russell leered, an arrogant sneer on his weather-beaten face, "'cause I know what you're really like!"
Anna was thrown off balance by his unexpected retort. She had anticipated apologies, sullenness, even a denial, but she had not expected him to be so completely defiant.
"What do you mean?" she asked, striving to keep a condescending tone in her voice. Her eyes swept contemptuously over his stout figure, and she imagined she saw him cringe under her proud stare.
"Hmmm, guess not even your husband knows what you get up to when he's not around," he said contemplatively, and Anna's heart missed a beat. Just what did he mean? He was acting so strangely, not at all intimidated. She was beginning to feel worried. There was something menacing about this sudden change in their hired hand, and her pulse quickened in fear. She thought about screaming, but knew it was futile, because the other workers were in their quarters on the far side of the barns, and besides, the television in the lounge was blaring, and likely to drown out any cries for help she might make. Russell moved closer to her again, and she drew back suddenly from his insidiously searching hand which reached out and touched her hip.
"Get-get away from me!" she gasped, her terror mounting.
"C'mon now, honey, I happen to know you need a little lovin'!" Russell rasped, his eyes roaming freely over her trembling figure.
"I-I don't know what you mean!" she stammered. What was he hinting about?
"Don't play dumb with me, baby, 'cause ol' Russell knows more about you than you think!" There was a new ominous sound in his voice, an ugly, threatening note.
Anna's heart raced with fear. He seemed to have something on his mind, something he was trying to threaten her with.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" she said defiantly, hoping to inject her voice with courage.
"Let's put it this way!" he taunted, rubbing his hands together. "You had a real nice time cleaning out the office the other day, didn't ya?"
Anna blanched, and suddenly her throat felt dry. She could only stare in horrified amazement at the triumphantly grinning figure of the workman. She just couldn't believe that she had heard him correctly, yet the enormity of the implication of his remark was slowly etching itself on her disbelieving brain.
"No, no!" she gasped, unable to stop herself.
"Oh yes!" Russell laughed, delighted at the effect of his bombshell on her. He was glad he'd waited to drop it on her, strung her out a little first, got her ready for the big one. "Yessirree," he went on, unable to relinquish his stunning victory over her, "cleanin' out the office was a real pleasure for you that day."
Anna continued to stare in numbed silence at him. Did he know? Had he seen her? Was that what he was hinting at, that he'd seen her looking at those pornographic pictures, seen her pushing her own panties down to her knees and fingering herself, seen her reach orgasm?
"What I do is my own business," she said flatly. She felt devoid of all strength, completely stripped of the will to put in his place this lewd uncouth worker who was bent on tormenting her.
"It sure is," he conceded, "but I'd say them glossy pictures are Glen's business, too."
Did he know about the pictures, too? She thought wildly, suddenly desperate to get away from this vile man.
"Will you please leave?" she said in a tone of quiet command, but Russell only edged forward, and then suddenly, grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her close to him. His other arm closed tightly around her, and he peered with lewd suggestion down at her.
"I could tell you really liked them colored pictures; you got real heated up when you looked at them, didn't ya?"
Anna was paralyzed with fear. She was afraid to struggle, afraid to waken his real anger, which she sensed was lurking near to the surface of his demented personality. She decided that if she ignored him, he might get tired of his little game.
"That one where they were 69-ing is a real winner, ain't it?" Russell taunted. "That's your husband in the photograph, and did ya see the size of his cock jammed into the broad's mouth?" Anna felt a rush of nausea, and fought to keep herself from retching. He's insane, her mind screamed, you're not safe with him. Oh God help me.
"...and did ya see her pussy, all red and juicy and ready? I bet Mr. Haak really liked getting his tongue in that little hole!"
"Oh stop it! Stop it!" Anna screamed suddenly, beginning to struggle wildly, unable to take any more of her captor's leering obscenities.
"Whatsa matter, honey?" he leered, his hand tightening roughly around her breast, crushing it painfully through her cashmere sweater. "Don'cha wanna talk about them pictures?"
"No, No, please leave me alone!" she whimpered, her reason deserting her and leaving her a cringing mass of fear and bewilderment.
"How did ya like the one where Mr. Haak was giving it to the blonde in the ass?" Russell taunted again, and Anna felt a fresh shudder of revulsion convulse her. As if by magic, a startling clear reproduction of that vile photograph leaped into the terrified woman's mind, and she could see the lewd scene finely etched on her brain - the straining white mounds of the girl's buttocks, the tiny pink ring of her ass nestled between the creamy spheres; Glen's hugely distended penis already inserted in the tiny puckered entrance. She couldn't banish the lurid apparition from her mind, and she felt suddenly that she was going mad. She wanted to scream, to shriek and wail, do anything to shatter the terrifying reality which encircled her, a reality of disgusting perversity, peopled by such lascivious monsters as Russell Seavers and her own husband, Glen. Part of the revolting present was the hired hand's tight convulsive clasp on her breast, and even as awareness sunk once more into her brain, she felt that same hand slip down along the curve of her waist and once more cup her buttock, squeezing it intimately in a lustful gesture. Anna felt totally devoid of control over her own body and mind. Something had snapped in her when she had finally realized that this lowly farm worker had witnessed her surrender to her own lewd response to the filthy pictures, and now she realized his domination over her was complete when he had revealed an intimate knowledge of those same dirty photographs. Had Glen shown them to his employee? How many other people had he shown them to? New, more frightening thoughts alarmed the despondent woman. How long had Russell been aware of Glen's infidelities? Had Russell felt pity for her, Glen's wife, every time he saw her, knowing of Glen's secret life?
Anna was barely aware of Russell's hand insinuating itself into the waistband of her slacks, flicking open the button, pulling down the zipper. Her racing, panic stricken mind occupied all her attention. The wife is always the last to know. The hackneyed statement jumped into her mind, and taunted her. Yes, she thought bitterly, I was the last one to know - even the farm hand knew before I did! Her heart somersaulted inside her as she felt Russell's wandering hand press against the softness of her belly and move downwards toward the panty-clad mound of her pubic triangle. Oh God, what is happening? she thought wildly, really aware for the first time that the farm worker's hand was actually inside her slacks and was edging down towards her now trembling pussy!
"Oh God, stop it! STOP IT!!" she shrieked, struggling wildly. She couldn't let this happen - no matter what, she had to stop his lewd advances before they got any further. Her startling thoughts had thrown her off balance, putting her off guard, and now, this revolting man was trying to fondle her down there!
"Hold still, baby," Russell rasped hoarsely, "and let ol' Russell give ya li'l pussy what your two-timin' husband has been neglectin'."
Anna stood stock still. Did he know that Glen hadn't made love to her in weeks? Had Glen told him? Oh God, it was too much to bear! Russell took advantage of her immobility and eased his hand inside the flimsy nylon protection of her panties and slipped down to the soft, hair-covered pelt of her pussy. The fingers hesitated there for a moment before slipping upwards and teasing slowly into the warm moist furrow of her pussy.
A shudder coursed through Anna as she felt his hard insistent fingers down between her thighs on her naked genitals. She felt powerless to move. There was something irrevocable about his intrusion there - as if there was nothing to fight any more. He had forced his hand inside her panties - she had allowed things to get this far - and now, there was nothing she could do about it! She felt broken, a victim of events initiated by her husband when he had first started being unfaithful to her. His illicit actions had started the ball rolling for her subsequent acquiescence to the farm worker's lewd manual play. It was Glen's fault!
Russell's fingers probed and searched in the softly yielding cuntal folds, exploring the smooth, slightly pulsating lips, teasing about with confident insistence. Anna was surprised at her own reaction to another man's hand between her legs. She knew it was partly because of her disembodiment from physical feeling, but couldn't deny that the strange fingers didn't feel bad down there.
"How d'ya like it, honey?" Russell hissed lewdly, "better than fingerfucking yourself isn't it?" Unwillingly, Anna admitted the memory of her own frantic fingering of her excited pussy, her scurrilous search for release. Shame flooded through her at the thought of how she had writhed under her own probing fingers, how she had squirmed her naked buttocks around lewdly in orgasm as she plunged her fingers deeper and deeper inside her. What was happening to her? First, she had enjoyed her own lewd masturbation, and now she was beginning to like the hired hand's fingers working deeper now up inside her gradually moistening pussy! No, it can't be! Her mind screamed, it can't be happening to me! But there was no doubt now about it - she couldn't deny it. She was beginning to ENJOY Russell's fingers in her pussy, and in spite of her mind's horror, her traitorous body was beginning to undulate gently in time to the farm worker's insistent fingers between her thighs.
Russell felt a surge of triumph on sensing her submission to him. There was no denying that she was beginning to like it - he could feel a tiny, but sensuous flexing beginning inside her trembling pussy, and her whole body was beginning to shiver in anticipatory pleasure. He had won, he, the lowly farm worker, had succeeded in taming this heretofore haughty wife of his boss, who had so often looked down her nose at him! He could hardly believe his luck in catching her playing with herself in front of those dirty pictures of her husband in the study that afternoon.
Tiny mewls of pleasure began to spew from Anna's lips and she leaned back against Russell and began to writhe, her loins churning in simulation of copulatory rhythm. She was being subjugated by the betrayal in her body, her will to resist curbed by the greater mastery of desire. Awareness of the reality of the situation was fading; consciousness of the growing tingle in her pussy was taking its place.
"How does that feel now, Mrs. Haak?" Russell breathed. "How do my fingers feel touching your pussy? His other hand was working at her firm rounded breast, squeezing and tweaking the hard turgid nipple through her sweater. Then, with a sudden upward movement between her legs, he ground his fingers hard into the wetly throbbing opening of her cuntal passage and wormed their stubby tips far up inside her.
"Ooohhhhhhhhhh..." Anna moaned, jolted by the searing entry, tormented by the grating of his nails against her sensitive inner membrane. His fingers continued their wild rotary plundering inside her, and Anna felt weird new sensations cavort through her body. Oh God, this is better than when I did it, she thought helplessly in the daze of her passion, as she pressed her now hungrily pulsating clitoral bud down on the relieving hardness of Russell's hand.
"You really love it now, don't you, babe?" he gloated, hardly daring to believe that this was really happening to him, that his own boss' proud little wife was really squirming under his manipulation.
"Oh yes," she hissed through passion-clenched teeth, "Oh yes, it feels so good. Mmmmmmmmm!!!"
Anna's entire crotch was a throbbing mass of aroused nerve endings, and she felt as if an uncontrollable fire had been kindled there. Her clitoris felt round and hard and was pulsing strongly with the heated blood of desire, and the swollen fleshy outer lips of her hair-lined split were moist with passion. Chills rippled through her spine which contrasted with the heat which was rising from her groin, rising up to cover her face and neck in a hot, rosy flush.
She was moaning uncontrollably now, unconscious of everything but the delicious pleasure which was seeping into every crack and crevice in her weary body and infusing her with a joy she hadn't experienced for a long time. She felt as if she was soaring on the wings of some magical mythical bird which was flying high and taking her to a warm heavenly place where he could deposit her in a comfortable nest where nothing or no one would ever harm her again.
And suddenly, she was there, in that unreachable nest, gliding down into a feathery resting place.
"Oooohhhhhhhhh," she chanted, "I'm there, and oh it's so good!" Her hips were jerking in a heathen rhythm, and she was mashing her pussy down onto Russell Seavers' tiring hand in ceaseless motion, and her hotly seeping pussy juices simmered down onto his fingers and lubricated them completely as they continued to instigate new and exciting pleasure inside her. Then, finally, when the heated sensations of passion had subsided and her body was reduced to convulsive twitching, a blanketing peace came over her and suddenly he left her alone to slumber in her long sought magic nest.
Anna didn't know how long she was asleep, and it was dark when she woke. Blindly, she groped her way into the bedroom, and threw herself down on the bed, not bothering to remove her slacks or sweater. Her slacks were slipping down around her hips, but she was too tired to care. All the feeling of pleasure had deserted her body, leaving her an empty shell of misery and guilt. She could hardly allow her mind to dwell on the disgusting event from which she was just recovering, and her brain, almost jeeringly, refused to even reconsider the delight her body had experienced, but insisted in emphasizing the lewd aspect of her abhorrent submission to the farm hand's lewd handling of her naked pussy.
Feelings of self-loathing rose up in her and filled her with contempt for her own weakness. Kaleidoscopic pictures of her husband in different pictures with different girls, performing different prurient acts of self-gratification tripped through her mind, lascivious embroidery on the photographs she had actually seen, and they tormented her into a state of humiliated frenzy, until finally she dropped off into a fitful, disturbed sleep, her mind insisting in a last crippling blow, you're as bad as he is.
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Chapter 4.
Snooping Does Not Pay
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"For God's sake, Anna, will you stop shouting? Do you want everyone on the farm to hear you?" Glen was getting exasperated. Ever since he'd come back to the house for dinner, she'd been nagging at him, and it was getting to be more than he could take. It had been like this for several days now. It seemed to him that his wife was forever harping on at him, like a harridan, about one thing or another, and nothing he did pleased her. She seemed to be particularly distressed ever since he came back from town, and he wondered worriedly if she had found out about him and Erin. He felt a lightening of his worry when he thought of his blond dairy helper - if it weren't for her and the comfort she gave him over the last week or so, he'd have gone out of his mind.
"You mean you don't want your little blonde girlfriend to hear, isn't that it?" Anna shrieked bitterly. She knew that she was acting like a bad wife, but she didn't care. The last few days had been hell for her. Tormented with guilt over the episode with their hired man when she had joyfully reached orgasm from his manipulation, she had taken out her feelings on her unsuspecting husband. The fact that he was rather furtive and silent with her didn't help matters, and although she longed for some sign of warmth from him, her nagging and complaining prohibited any show of tenderness. Consumed with guilt over her own infidelity, she had no trouble in imagining her husband to be engaged in similar action, and she was haunted in particular by the photographs she had uncovered. She felt she couldn't trust him - he had concealed a period of stealth and deceit from her, a period when he had had numerous adulterous affairs, and she had no reason now to think he was not continuing his old ways.
"You think I don't notice," She went on relentlessly, "but I saw you with your arm around that hussy yesterday! Where were you taking her, into the cow stall to screw the little slut?"
Glen flinched under her verbal assault. He hadn't realized that she'd noticed his friendliness with Erin, and hoped that she was only guessing wildly about what was going on.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Glen retorted, feigning nonchalance, his heart thudding at the memory of how he had in fact lead Erin towards the hay barn. He tingled even now at the memory of the passionate fire of their fucking, how her creamy, resilient body had fused with his as they writhed nakedly together on the hay, how she had welcomed him inside her with all the certainty of true womanhood. He shivered as he remembered how her tight, eager young pussy had felt as it had contracted like warm, throbbing liver around his pumping organ, how her pliant fleshy breasts felt under his caressing hands, how her full ripe lips felt as they returned his ardent kiss.
"Hah, you're thinking about her now, aren't you?" Anna taunted, glaring with blazing eyes at him. "Have you forgotten about all the others?" She felt a stab of triumph when she noticed his sudden crimsoning, his quick look of worried fear.
"You didn't think I knew, did you?" she jeered, enjoying the look of perplexity that masked his face. She hadn't meant to throw it up to him about the other women in his life, but somehow, the expression of rapt pleasure he assumed when she knew he was thinking about HER, unleashed the green-eyed monster in her, and she couldn't hold back.
"W-what do you mean?" Glen said lamely. A worried knot of agitation was churning in his stomach, and he had an ominous premonition that Anna had found out about his affairs.
"This is what I mean, you cheating bastard!" Anna snapped, holding aloft a bundle of photographs, which Glen recognized with a sinking heart. She had found them!
"Have you forgotten about this blonde," Anna jeered, waving a snapshot, "the one you're screwing in the ass?"
Glen blanched under his wife's taunting obscenities.
"That's enough," he said, his voice icy cold.
"What about that cute redhead, the one whose pussy you were licking and sucking? Have you forgotten her already?" Anna went on hysterically.
"Give me those photographs, Anna," Glen commanded calmly, although he was in emotional turmoil. He had dreaded Anna ever finding those lewd incriminations, and told himself that he should have destroyed them. Now he was paying for his procrastination. He had no idea how he was going to extricate himself from the results of his indiscretions, but he would worry about that later. All that mattered now was recovering the snapshots.
"Give-me-the-photographs," he enunciated again, and Anna felt a quiver of fear. But she was determined not to give in.
"Like hell I will!" she taunted, and Glen, aggravated by her obstinacy, made a grab for them. Laughing shrilly, she held them up in the air, and began to dodge around the sitting room, laughing and tittering at her husband's attempts to retrieve the snapshots.
"Catch me if you can!" she yelled wildly, ducking behind the sofa. Glen, snarling with rage, threw himself at the settee, but his agile wife slipped out from behind it and once more prancing around the room.
"Stop that, you little bitch!" Glen spat, incensed at his wife's mockery of him. He made another lunge at her, and this time, managed to grab her wrist, holding her immobile.
"Now give them to me!" he ordered, his breath coming in pants from the unaccustomed exertion.
"Never!" Anna gasped, looking wildly around the room and struggling vainly to escape.
"I'm afraid you've no choice," Glen jeered, give them to me, or I'll take them." Anna was desperate. Somehow withholding the coveted snapshots from him was a symbol of some kind of victory over him, and she wasn't about to relinquish that so easily.
"I'm waiting, Anna," Glen intoned, his fingers digging into her wrist.
"Then wait, you son of a bitch!" Anna snapped, and with a defiant look of triumph, threw the bundle of lewd photographs onto the burning fire!
"You bitch! You goddamn little bitch!" Glen spat. She had burned his photographs!
His fingers tightened cruelly around her wrist as he stared at the burning photos. His raging anger had finally mastered his self-reproach, and her spiteful sarcastic taunts echoed in his mind as the pictures burned, the glossy sheen curling and distorting the naked forms. As flames engulfed the mass of photographs, he pulled one away from the burning heap.
With unseeing eyes, he stared at the half-burned snapshot, the two naked figures on it barely recognizable. Shame and indignation boiled over together in the cauldron of his emotions, and with a growl, he threw Anna down against the large ottoman at the foot of the sofa.
"I'll make you pay for that, you fucking little bitch!" he screamed, clutching wildly at her cardigan and tearing it open, sending several buttons flying, and ripping away her bra, revealing her full sensual breasts jutting out timidly. The sight of their naked glory only seemed to inflame him further, and he stared at the smooth ivory orbs, his face blushing beet red, and the cords of his neck stood out like rawhide.
"What do you think of that, eh?" he snarled, thrusting the half-burned picture in front of his terrified wife's eyes. "Is that what made you so disgusted?"
Anna tried to turn away from him, but his hand suddenly dipped into her shiny black hair and wrenched her head around to face the wretched remnant of snapshot, and as her eyes swam with tears, she could barely make out the entwining forms on the photo. The figures were distorted and crumpled, but she could see clearly a thick, 9.5-inch blood-expanded penis imbedded in a small pink anal ring, surrounded by soft white cheeks of deeply impaled buttocks! Shudders of terror convulsed the cringing woman. She was deathly afraid of the mountain of anger she had moved in her husband, and was fearful lest he lose complete control.
"Well, how did you like that?" he shrieked, pointing at the disgusting photograph.
"Please Glen, I'm sorry, let's...."
"It's too late now to be sorry. You're gonna have to pay for this, you little bitch. I'm sick and tired of listening to you nag and complain. I've had all a man can take, you goddamn spoiled bitch!" His teeth were grinding in fury and his face wore an expression of bestial sadism. With a sudden movement, he grabbed her thin skirt, and yanked it hard, making the zipper give, so that he was able to rip it from her body. She lay there cowering beneath her furious husband, clad only in a thin pair of white lacy panties.
"Oh Glen, please don't!" Anna whimpered, cringing against the ottoman, her arms clasped protectively around her breasts, her legs drawn up to protect the fulcrum of her body.
Glen stood over, a curious lust-satisfied look on his contorted face.
"Now let's see how brave you are!" he taunted, grabbing her again by the wrist, and throwing her face downward on the leather-covered hassock. He cruelly forced her face down onto the hard leather, his fingers locking in her hair. He could hear her blubbering into the ottoman, but her terrified fear only incensed him. His eyes traveled down the milky whiteness of her body, resting on the graceful flare of her panty-covered hips. He could see the twin orbs of her silky smooth ass clenched together beneath the flimsy material, and as he stared, a jeering memory of all the nights of cold, unsatisfying sex he had experienced with his complaining wife, came back to haunt him, and something boiled over inside him when he realized that she had been able to make him ashamed of his own natural masculine instincts. But even as he stared at the shivering figure of the helpless Anna, he felt a familiar twinge that began in the pit of his loins, and rapidly spread to send his pulsating prick climbing into hard turgidity. He could feel his hardening rod pressuring against the fabric of his pants, and it was hot and throbbing against his inner thigh. The realization that she could still excite him, after what she had put him through, angered him to boiling point.
He angrily pulled down the last vestige of decency down over his wife's curvaceously rounded hips, and discarded the sheer panties on the floor. Her delicate asscheeks stood out unprotected, vulnerable, the flicker pattern of the hearth fire shining over her soft polished flesh. Barely discernable between her quivering legs was the soft dark fleece of her pubic hair and beneath it the faint sheen of her trembling little vaginal split. Breathing hard, Glen placed his hands on the quivering spheres of alabaster flesh, and slowly drew the palpitating mounds apart. Staring for a moment at the crinkled brown ring of her little rectum, Glen reached forward and probed experimentally at it with his finger.
"Oooohhhhhh...!!" Anna jerked forward as though she had been prodded by a hot coal. The high sprawling ottoman blocked her effort to draw away, and there was nothing she could do but submit. Glen's fingers were worming mercilessly up between the tender globes, holding her painfully in place. Anna felt resistance drain from her. Her body was helpless, to be used as he desired - the responsibility was out of her control.
Glen ran his hands slowly up her smooth inner thigh all the way to the hair-lined lips of her moistened cunt. "Mmmmm..." he slavered, his balls tingling with renewed excitement. There was something luridly arousing about the submissively kneeling posture of his wife, and he felt a soaring feeling of power as he sensed her terrified acquiescence. His palms spread over the smooth glossy ass-cheeks, cupping them firmly and slowly pulling them even further apart. The skin around her ass was straining outward as he pulled tighter and his fingers probed sharply at the puckered little ring like punishing electric needles.
"C'mon," he rasped bitterly, "spread 'em wide, real wide!" Anna moaned under her husband's crude demand. She tried weakly to flare her buttocks, to do what he asked her, ever fearful of arousing his violent temper.
Glen continued to tease at the puckered little circle with his finger, relishing her agonized cringe against the unnatural contact, while his other hand kneaded without mercy at the soft buttock mounds. Bending his reddened face downward, he lashed out with his long moist tongue, and swept it along the length of the quivering crevice, leaving a shimmering wet salival path between her trembling globes. Anna couldn't control a shudder of revulsion on feeling his tongue there, and she could barely suppress a gasp as he suddenly bit viciously into her pliant buttocks, covering the soft sensitive flesh with sharp little bites. Then his pointed tongue was probing at the tiny exposed anal mouth, testing and teasing, trying to stretch the tightly-clenched, unyielding ring of her asshole.
"Oh my God, my God," Anna sobbed, why is he doing that to me? Is this really my own husband torturing me like this?
Glen was jubilant when he heard her fresh sobs. That'll teach the little bitch to play games with me, he thought venomously, suddenly ripping down the zipper of his pants, and releasing the long swollen length of his lust-hardened cock. He sighed with relief from the feeling of freedom as the hotly throbbing rod jutted up proudly in the air. Stretching the straining white buttocks even more, he laid the full length of the palpitating member between her open ass-globes, resting the smooth bloated head against the tight little opening of her ass. Gleefully, he began to slide his heavy protuberance up and down the exposed brownish valley, a drop of premature semen lubricating the hungrily searching tip.
He placed the swollen head of his blood-engorged penis against the small hairless opening, and aided by his insistent fingers, the giant rod began to push and buffet against her nakedly defenseless rectum.
Although she tried to suppress the nauseating thought, Anna was struck by the realization of what her husband had in mind for her. He was going to try to sink his huge hardened penis into her rectum! His cock was good sized at 9.5 inches, but the shaft was 8.5 inches in circumference: IT WOULD KILL HER! How could she take it? It would tear her in half - the pain would drive her out of her mind. And worst of all was the realization that her husband was really capable of this depraved act! Her dazed thoughts ran back to those horrible photographs. Etched on her mind irrevocably was the image of his animalistic penetration anally of that lewd blonde - the look of debased pleasure on her face. Anna shivered in revulsion and as she did, her tiny sphincter brushed against her husband's rock-hard prick, electrifying her with the insistent reality of her own shamefully kneeling position. Tears ran from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. She began to sob, low whining sounds, and struggled weakly to release her behind from her husband's sadistic grip.
"Shut up and hold still!" Glen snarled, and Anna forced a stop to the convulsive quivering of her body. With a sudden, vicious lunge, Glen tried to shove his hot, throbbing prick through the tight rubbery opening. But it wouldn't go! It was too big! It pushed harshly against the unyielding membrane and Glen cursed softly at his momentary defeat. Anna was shaking; she couldn't expect any escape from the depraved act that was to be performed on her. She only clenched shut her eyes, trying not to think, hoping that whatever was going to happen to her, would happen fast and be over with. For the very first time in her married life, she was desperately, deathly afraid of her husband, and she quaked under her terrifying fear.
Her face was numb from being pressed down into the leather and her whole body ached from the cramped awkwardness of her position. For a moment, a split second, she had been relieved that his huge penis had failed to pierce her anal passage, and had nurtured the faint hope that he would give up his disgusting intention. But he was trying again!
"AAAAARRRGGGHHHHHHHH!! Oh God, stop it!" A blinding, tearing pain shot up her back bone. She felt a slight popping sensation at her ass and... OH GOD, HE WAS IN! Her own husband was raping her rectum! The startling pain took away her breath. The stretching, groping in her back passage was unbearable - as if someone were trying to plug her up back there with a huge barrel cork.
Glen was surprised at the virginal tightness of her anal passage. He hadn't expected so much resistance and his anger had steadily mounted as his patience drained away. His hard insistent cock was demanding satisfaction, and now he had finally inserted it just inside the tight rubbery circle.
The lust-maddened husband lurched forward again, sinking more of the enormous shaft into his wife's tiny tortured rectum.
"UUUGGGHhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn... oh no! NOOOOooooooo...."
Anna's pelvis bucked and jerked against her husband's maniacal impalement, the barbaric pain giving her new strength. Futilely, she twisted and gyrated, trying to shake off the brutal skewering of her flesh, but Glen only grinned lasciviously and inserted his massive cock farther into her inflamed back passage, drilling mercilessly up the virginal channel.
Violent, shattering pain racked Anna's body and choked sobs caught in her throat. She was hopelessly caught on his merciless rod. Glen pulled at her hips in a relentless, inflexible grip, flexing his loins as he inched even deeper into her tightly resisting sheath. She squirmed desperately, tugging her split asscheeks away from his granite-hard member, but her struggles only helped to bury the devastation of the advancing cock further into her agonized rectal canal. The stiff circumference of her husband's cock stretched the tender ring of her ass until it seemed to clutch in helpless desperation at the huge pole and suck it even deeper into its violated interior.
"Oh Glen, please stop! Please stop! I can't stand it!" she sobbed piteously.
But Glen only gritted his teeth, and with a final savage grunt, ground the full length of his monstrous shaft into her tortured passage. He had buried the full length of the elongated rod in her soft, brutalized flesh! Glen hesitated for a second, enjoying the tight, inflamed throbbing of his wife's sensitively throbbing rectum around his deeply imbedded prick. Then he began a slow, abrasive pulling out of the extended shaft. His withdrawal along the stolen path brought fresh moans of new pain from his tormented wife, pulling it out until just the swollen bulbous head alone remained engulfed by the clinging flesh of her ass. Then, closing his eyes in lustful pleasure, he once again rammed its merciless bulk into her now forever stretched anal channel, feeling the smooth buttery cheeks of her whitely rounded buttocks settle quivering around his hardening balls, as he once more sunk every inch of it in her tortured depths. He began a slow sawing motion in and out of her, the movement becoming easier as her distended rectum relaxed a little and allowed his rummaging cock to pursue its bestial rape.
Anna moaned and whimpered as he sodomized her, her body lost in a labyrinth of pain. She had never felt so totally abased and humiliated in her life. Not even Russell, the hired hand's, lustful fingerfucking of her naked pussy compared to the ignominy of this horrible anal rape by her own husband. She wished that the ground would swallow her up, because she didn't think she could ever hold her head up again.
Glen continued his illicit fucking, his pile-driving pelvis pounding against her upturned backside, his leaden penis churning deeper and deeper into the softness of her violated interior, slapping his loins against her wet buttocks, his mind lost in the abandoned perversity of the vicious anal fucking he was giving her. His breath stiffened and he began to gasp in short rasping snorts. His cock ached beyond belief and seemed to inflate even more as the sperm, boiling in his steaming, writhing balls, clamored for release. The massive rod began to slice faster and faster in and out of the wide stretched rectum, and Anna tried to ease the cramped muscles of her buttocks, to lessen if she could the excruciating pain. She felt her husband's hands clutch even more convulsively into her now slightly bruised buttocks, roaming over her hips. His pelvic thrusts pounded wildly against her numbed and flattened asscheeks hard against her hip bones as he began to shout strange growling sounds, mingled with threats and lewd obscenities.
His body stiffened, swiveled only at the hips, his toes dug against the floor.
"Hump back, bitch! Move your fucking tutti-frutti ass!" He shrieked insanely through tightly clenched teeth. "Oh God, I'm cumming now, I'm cuummmiiinnnggg in your asshole!!! AAAGGGHHHHHHH!!"
He buffeted against her, a final breathtaking clap of flesh against flesh, his lust-stiffened rod knifing into unfathomed depths of her agonized rectum. A scalding white-hot stream of liquid shot into her hotly clenching ass, searing the mercilessly ravaged membrane. He jerked against her like a rag doll shook by an angry child, her thighs and buttocks crushed by the violence of his final assault, as he emptied the full measure of his thick burning semen into her forever-stretched anal passage.
Then he fell forward, flattening the lovely curves of his wife's body under his distended bulk. She lay there, dry sobs convulsing her as his softening penis slid out of her wet, sperm-flooded ass, feeling soiled, dirtied forever by her husband's vengeful attack on her helpless ass, her bowels gurgling slightly from the heated pool of it he had hosed up into her.
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Chapter 5.
Dog Day Afternoon
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Anna lavishly applied the black eyeliner, rimming her clear green eyes heavily. Coupled with the woody brown eye shadow she had smoothed onto her eyelids, she had achieved a stunning effect, and her eyes had a hazy, smoldering look. After several coats of black mascara on her long dark lashes completed her eye make-up, she decided to have another cup of coffee before putting on her lipstick.
She poured herself a cup from the still-simmering coffee pot, and added a liberal dash of brandy. She liked the combination, and felt herself beginning to relax as she leaned back against her chair, relishing the steaming aromatic brew. It was her third such cup already this morning, and she was glad that she had decided to add brandy, because its tranquilizing effect was salve to her troubled soul. She knew she was also feeling a little better because Glen would be out for the day, supervising the laying down of a new electric fence at the boundary of their property. The last few days had been hell for Anna. Glen had tried several times to make up with her, apologizing for his dreadful behavior, but somehow, Anna felt she had passed the point of no return. She felt a shudder of revulsion every time she looked at her husband, and the memory of the bestial anal assault he had perpetrated on her seared her brain like a branding iron, giving no respite to her jumbled thoughts of revenge and hate. She had retreated into herself since that terrible evening, refusing to listen to his feeble explanations, her pain and disgust feeding and strengthening the anger that was germinating inside her, a slow, seething anger that wouldn't be appeased quickly. This morning again, just before he left for the day, Glen had lost his temper with her once more.
"All right, have it your way!" he'd yelled, "If you want to sulk like a child, go ahead. But don't expect me to get down on my hands and knees to you."
"And don't forget, you're not exactly a model wife yourself!" he'd hurled at her as he slammed the door. His last rebuke had stung most of all. Her husband had bit nearer the truth than he'd imagined. Her record wasn't exactly spotless, she thought bitterly, remembering her unadulterated ecstasy as Russell Seavers had fingered her freely in the secret confines of her eager pussy. A shudder ran through her now as she involuntarily relived the scraping, titillating feel of his coarsened fingers as they slid up the tight, contracting sheath of her cuntal passage, how his hard hand felt as it squeezed mercilessly on her breasts, evoking a strange sort of pleasure through the unbearable pain. Many times during the past week, Anna had puzzled over her mind and body's acquiescence to his lewd handling, wondering, in the clear light of following days, how she could have let herself give in to him. She realized that he had thrown her completely off balance by his disclosure that he had watched her through the office window as she had made herself experience orgasmic release with her own fingers, and also the fact that he seemed to be intimately familiar with those pornographic pictures had stunned her. But she forced herself to admit that in addition, he had overpowered her by his self-assurance, and his crude masculine way of dominating her. Again she felt a tingle chill her spine as she recalled his roughness with her, his complete disregard for her expressed feelings. There was something perversely exciting to her, she acknowledged now as she finished her coffee, in the way he had treated her, even abused her. There was little pinpricks of fire niggling between her legs and she realized that she had been grinding her pubic region down unconsciously against the upholstery of the chair in a lewd rhythmic motion. She stood up, swaying a little and had to steady herself against the table. Her head felt pleasantly afloat, and her body felt warm and light. She made her way back to the bedroom, and hurriedly applied a vivid splash of lipstick and ran her brush through her gleaming hair. She had no clear idea of what she was going to do, but the thought foremost in her mind was a desire for revenge. She had to retaliate on Glen for the unforgivable thing he had done to her! There was something else, too, a gnawing aching emptiness deep inside her, like a worm eating away at her. Her body felt restless and taut, and she knew it was because she had not made love for several weeks. She had become accustomed to regular sexual intercourse during the years of her marriage and her body was reacting to this neglect. Glen wasn't interested in her anymore, which was obvious. But Russell was! There was no denying that the farm worker was definitely interested in her and her flagging ego in its desperation found the thought not unattractive. She suddenly longed for masculine attention, a little appreciation of her as a woman, even a little flirting!
Almost without realizing it, she wandered out of the house and found herself in the yard. The brightness of the sun seared her eyes and made her feel a trifle dizzy, but she became accustomed to it after a few moments and began to feel better. She was wearing a light cotton knit dress which she knew was too short for her, really, falling as it did to just the top of her thighs. The light material stretched tightly across her full, unconfined breasts, and she knew that the horizontal stripe pattern added to the general provocation of the dress. She found, to her mingled dismay and surprise, that she was almost desperately looking for Russell, her eyes darting back and forth among the scattered outbuildings, trying to catch a glimpse of his burly figure. He was no where in sight, and feeling a pang of disappointment, Anna began to head back for the house. What do I care if I see him or not? I'm not interested in a mere farm worker, she told herself, walking slowly in the direction of the house. Then she heard his voice, calling the dog, coming from the direction of the barn where the recently calved cows were housed. Her heart began to pound in her ribcage, and she had to stop herself from running over to the shed. What's come over me? She asked herself, acting like a lovesick teenager! She stood in the doorway, and peered around in the dim interior.
"Morning, Mrs. Haak!" Russell's gruff voice rang out, and the dog suddenly rushed up to her, sniffing excitedly at her ankles, his big shaggy tail wagging furiously.
"Down, King, Russell ordered, and the friendly collie crept away unhappily, and lay down by Russell's feet.
"Hello, Russell," Anna replied, her voice stiff and unnatural. Her hands felt clammy, and she was sure there were beads of perspiration on her face. I shouldn't have come here! She fought to control a wave of fear which was swelling inside her, the man's quietness, the still, dusky interior of the barn, frightening her unreasonably.
"That's some dress you're wearing, Ma'am," Russell praised, and Anna found herself flushing.
"T-thank you, Russell," she floundered, not knowing what to say.
"Well, what can I do for you this morning?" Russell drawled an arrogant note in his voice. Anna could only see the glowing tip of his cigarette - the rest of him was lost in the murkiness of the barn. It irritated her that he could see her clearly, silhouetted against the doorway, and exasperated, she stepped inside.
She almost stumbled, her feet unaccustomed to the deceptive softness of the straw, and she had to put a hand out on the rough wall to steady herself.
"Are you all right?" Russell asked, and Anna froze when she realized that his voice was closer, much closer. Her eyes were dazzled by the brilliant sunshine and she just couldn't see a thing!
"W-where are you?" she asked in a small voice, fear suddenly taking hold of her again.
"AAAGGGHHHHHHH!" Anna screamed as she felt strong hard arms around her, clasping her tightly, and then tobacco-scented breath hot on her face.
"Stop it! Let me go!" she hissed, struggling desperately to escape as her courage to go through with her plan faded in her mind.
Then his mouth was on hers, his lips bruising against hers in a sweltering unrelenting kiss, his tongue, wet and hard pressing against her teeth, forcing entry, and coupling lewdly with her own mutinous tongue. Anna was fighting for breath as just as suddenly as she had begun, she ceased to struggle under the farm worker's illicit embrace. All fight went from her body, and as her fear diminished, she realized that she was beginning to enjoy being grasped roughly in the employee's arms, to enjoy his hard grinding kiss on her tender lips. His tongue swirled around in her velvety mouth, and he was crushing her breasts against his chest, and Anna could feel the hem of her tight dress riding up on her hips. She gasped as she felt Russell's knee pry apart her thighs, and then moaned involuntarily as she felt the bony kneecap rub unremittingly against the burning zone of her pussy. His crude caress awoke the sparks that had kindled in her sensitive pussy earlier that morning and she found herself grinding her throbbing warm flesh against the hardness of his knee. It seemed to her as if the kiss lasted an eternity, and then, abruptly, he threw her down on a bed of straw, and Anna fell clumsily, her legs sprawling uncontrollably.
Russell smiled to himself as he stared for a moment at the spread–eagled woman. He caught an enticing gleam of white panties up between her legs as she fell, and a shiver of anticipation coursed through him. His eyes were riveted on the expanse of smooth milky thigh which be could see clearly, accustomed as he was to the dim light, and his prick gave an excited spasm. His mouth was on fire from the passion of their kiss, and it was all he could do to restrain himself from pouncing on her and taking her right then and there. But he had other plans for his boss' hot pants little wife. He knew right away what was on her mind when he had seen her standing in the doorway, barely covered in that scrap of a dress, her face painted like some street slut. She wants cock, that's what she wants, even if she's fightin' it, and ol' Russell is only too ready to oblige the boss' wife!
Anna lay panting on the ground, her dress still askew, hardly daring to move. She felt helpless. His kiss had overwhelmed her, and although she wanted to get up and run from this dreadful place, she just couldn't. She quivered as she felt his hands on her again, feeling, squeezing, caressing, running down the length of her flattened body, sending coarse shivers of pleasure rippling through her awakening flesh. She sucked in her breath as she felt the roughness of his palm on her naked thigh, felt it slither up the smooth creamy skin, and realized that his fingers were tugging at the soft flimsy material of her panties. Her head was spinning, the brandy she had gulped down taking a loosening carefree effect on her. She found her hips arching, to help him ease off the thin nylon panties, and in a daze, she felt them sliding down over her hips and thighs to her ankles, where they were discarded in a useless little heap on the hay.
"Mmmmmmmm," she sighed as she felt his thick fingers graze against the softness of her palpitating pussy lips, felt their tips dip against the growing moistness of her velvet soft folds. She felt his hot breath as he peered down at her, and then he plunged his middle finger into the wet, viscous hole of her trembling cunt, and she jackknifed against him, her legs shooting out on either side, to allow his invading fingers deeper and easier access to the mounting furnace of her tight hot pussy. His fingers groveled around in the slippery channel of her cunt, drubbed the hardened knob of her blood-filled clitoris, searched and probed among the secret wet crevices and creases of her nubile young pussy. Her entire body felt aflame, and she was lost in lust, oblivious of the fact of how lewdly she was sprawled on the straw, how obscenely she spread her legs to allow the workman to allow. It was what she wanted, the feel of male hands on her body, to feel the rising beat in every pore of her flesh which signaled the coming of the climax for which her love-starved body craved. She didn't really care whose hands were manipulating her crotch, whose fingers were whirling around inside her buttery-soft cuntal sheath. She didn't care what happened! All she wanted was the joyous ecstasy of release, and oh God, she was going to get it!
Russell smirked down at the twitching, writhing body spread out below him. God, the high and mighty little bitch is really getting hot; she's really ready for it now! Let's see what she thinks of the surprise Uncle Russ has for her. He withdrew his fingers from the excitedly pulsating lips of her pussy and he heard her gasp with disappointment.
"Oh please, don't stop now: I'm nearly there!" the passion-wracked woman sighed piteously.
Russell gave a laughing leer, and then snapped out: "Here, K