Near and Naked
(M+/F+, teen, inc, anal)

by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.org

From the summit you could see Lake Ouachita far below - the entire expanse of it glistening sleepily in the sun, its color changing from dark green to blue, then to a lighter shade of blue. Hills walled it in, just as they walled in the broad meadows to the south and the teardrops of other tiny lakes to the west and east. To the north, and about midway between the summit and Lake Ouachita, sprawled the big stone building of Rockhurst Retreat. Rockhurst Retreat was two stories high, nestled back in the firs and pines with its collection of carpeted rooms and discreet servants. During the season, it boasted a three-piece combo in its cocktail lounge, and the young couples who enthusiastically filled the resort danced closely entwined until it was time for bed. Bedtime was singularly early, for Rockhurst Retreat was renowned as a newlywed hotel, whether you were married or not.

Most of the young men and women who eagerly sought reservations here during the summer months were married, if only that morning in Reno, but there were also the romantics who considered themselves enough in love to pay the exorbitant rates. There were also the older couples who were tired of the glitter of Reno and Ouachita and wished to relax for a while, though that often included getting away from respective husbands and wives as well. But however it was sliced, and whoever with, Rockhurst Retreat was for passion, for passion, love, and lust.

And if you wanted to escape from Rockhurst Retreat itself, there were the paths. The paths spread out behind the building like a spider's web net, meandering through the wind-bent trees and breeze-stirred shrubbery, winding up the silent, loamy hills to the summit. The summit, and the private cottages. The cottages were set apart from one another by brakes of forest and bush and sun-dappled grass; small, redwood-paneled cabins which looked out over the lodge and the lake through large picture windows, and were furnished right down to a small blaze burning in the field-stone fireplace when you first arrived. The clean tang of pine smoke sharpened the summer air coming from the lake, and seemed to revitalize the lovers who could pay forty dollars a day for a place to fuck. The path connecting the cottages ran along the edge of the summit, and on this warm June evening, it was young Susan Sandford who was thrilling to the panoramic view spread out before her. She walked languidly alongside her husband of a few hours, her arm tightly pressed to his, unable to stifle the blissful grin on her fresh, roundly pert and freckled face. The new Mrs. Sandford was tall and lithe with natural blonde hair and luminescent green eyes with tiny yellow flecks in the irises. She wore a clinging blue shift which hugged and caressed her slender, high-breasted figure, and accentuated the easy, natural sway of her tight-mooned buttocks. She was twenty, in love with a perfect man, and married to him. What more could a woman ask? The diamond of her newly acquired wedding ring sparkled magically in the crimson rays of the setting sun, as if mirroring the radiant happiness that threatened to burst her heart.

She snuggled her head against Brian Sandford's bare shoulder, feeling the warmth of his tanned, masculine flesh. He was wearing a pair of tight green swimming trunks and a pair of thongs, as she was, and his bronzed, hard-muscled body glistened in the dimming light of the day. He had dark brown, almost black hair which he wore long and thick according to the current fashion, and despite the fact he was only two years older than his bride, Brian seemed somehow much older. Oh, not by wrinkles or lines of dissipation, for he was still very virile and youthful in appearance, but as Trina glanced up worshipfully at him, she thought he seemed so much more mature, so much more experienced in his manner and expression.

The young bride felt a small, reflexive shiver of fascination move briefly along her spine. Lord, but he was a handsome catch! She'd thought so when she'd first met him on a double date with her twin brother, Mike. It had been one of those "joke" blind dates, done for the lark and not because she'd expected anything to come of it; certainly not marriage! But Brian also was a twin, and her brother Mike was dating Brian's sister Verna, so it sounded like a good laugh when Verna had said Brian was coming to town and why not make it a foursome, a twin twosome! But when Trina had first laid eyes on Brian, she was no longer in the mood to laugh. He had a certain roguish allure which had immediately captivated her, which made her irrationally avert her gaze and blush girlishly. It was almost as if Brian mentally undressed her and left her naked and defenseless. Yes, and tonight, their wedding night, Brian would in fact undress her and lead her naked and defenseless into the secret mysteries of sex. It seemed almost miraculous to her that after all the months of Brian's amorous pressures, she'd remained true to her dreams of being pure and unspoiled for her husband, to still be a virgin!

Trina studied her new husband as they walked together along the graveled path. She watched the way he moved easily, with almost leonine fluidity, the strong muscles rippling along his thighs and chest, the hard bas-relief outline of his manhood straining the thin material of his swimming trunks. What would it look like? She'd never seen a man's penis before, not even her brother's, and the tantalizing thought of what Brian's would resemble burrowed like a hot, prickly sliver in her mind. Lord! Did a penis really get long and hard, the way some of her girlfriends told her it did? Even soft, the bulging contour of its manly shaft seemed to hold a strange, awesome fascination for the sheltered young girl, and for one quick moment she was filled with a weird desire to reach across and run her fingers down over the stimulating outline, and trace the curve of his cock as it nestled gently in the softness of his scrotum.

Then, abruptly shamed, Trina averted her gaze and stared mortified out over the summit. Self-deprecatingly, she thought: My God, what a way to be carrying on! Brian could never respect me if he knew I was harboring such indecent, sinful ideas! I'm so ashamed!

The blonde-haired bride shuddered involuntarily as she resisted her erotic reveries and the dwelling fear of what this night would bring. She prayed subconsciously that Brian would understand her natural reticence and be gentle and patient as he initiated her into the new world of sex. Sex. There was a word which had never been mentioned in her parents' house, not once in all the years of her and her brother's upbringing. Sex was a subject that got your mouth washed out with soap, or worse. She and Mike were products of a Mid-Western Baptist family, and neither one of them had had much of a chance to stray from God's way, dating very little and then only under the stern glare of Mr. & Mrs. Berman's parental guidance. There was church twice on Sunday with Mike in the choir, while most of their friends were running off to play. And the constant warnings on the evils of sin, and the innate bestiality of human animals, both male and female. It almost seemed irreligious for her to have chosen Brian Sandford for a husband, considering how much more worldly he was.

And when Mike had announced that he was planning to marry Verna Sandford, their parents had all but disowned him. It had been very difficult for her brother to withstand their parents' heated objections, for he'd been brought up as protected as his twin sister. Yet Trina couldn't help admiring her brother for fighting for the girl he loved, no matter what her shortcomings might be, and when it was obvious that Mr. & Mrs. Berman would have nothing to do with their son's wedding, Trina had happily agreed to go to Reno with Mike and Verna and make it a double ceremony. The elopement had gone off without a hitch, and after a quickie exchange of vows at noon, the two couples were now on their honeymoon.

Still, Trina couldn't help a slight twinge of concern for her brother's welfare. It was one thing for Brian to enter marriage slightly tarnished, for he was a man and premarital experience could be tolerated. But Verna was, well, Brian's twin sister was the sort of girl whom Trina's mother never discussed in public, Mrs. Berman being a decent woman with a civil tongue in her head. But her lips compressed in a thin white line, the flaring nostrils of her pinched nose, and the disapproving snap in her eyes - they all conveyed the mother's disgust quite eloquently. Not only was Verna two years older than Mike, but she had once worked as a go-go dancer in Springfield! Trina had found the black-haired girl exceptionally open and blatant with her language, though Verna had never said or done anything overtly obscene when in her company. But she was disturbed by a comment she'd overheard while passing her mother's closed bedroom door one night, when unwittingly Mrs. Berman had said overly loud to the father: "That Verna is a strumpet, Joshua. She's the devil's playmate!" Trina devoutly hoped that Verna wasn't anything so indecent and impure, and that Mike was gaining a bride as clean in spirit and body as Brian was, but Trina had the sinking intuition that somewhere along the line, Verna might have fallen to the temptations of the flesh, perhaps more than once! And that's what disturbed her, for with the same feminine instinct, she sensed that Verna had not gained her carnal knowledge from Mike, but that Mike was a virgin too. Trina quickly banished her straying thoughts as she and Brian made the final turn and entered the clearing of the next cottage. Yet while stepping daintily along the graveled trail, she couldn't stop that lingering curiosity as to whether Mike was as nervous and apprehensively eager for tonight as she. The small clearing ended at the porch of the cottage, which was now shadowed in the twilight. But the clearing itself was still bathed in hot tangerine sunlight, and the redwood picnic table and chairs seemed to gleam as if waxed with burgundy polish.

Mike and Verna were lounging in the chairs, slowly sipping at frosty glasses in their hands. On the table between them was a ceramic pitcher with trickles of condensation running down its rounded sides, indicating that whatever it held was nice and cold. When they saw Trina and Brian approaching, they both jumped up, waving and smiling. "Hi!" Mike called out enthusiastically. "We were hoping you'd come by."

"We were afraid we might be disturbing you," Brian replied with a smile. "We didn't want to barge in if you were inside."

"Brian!" Verna gasped with a giggle.

"Fixing dinner," he concluded with a twinkle.

"That's later," his sister said, "after enough rum cocktails so Mike can't tell he married a lousy cook! Come on and sit down. I'll go in and get a couple more glasses."

With that, Verna tossed the long, shining mane of her black hair over her shoulder like a silken tail, and languidly walked up the steps of the porch. She moved with the grace and sensuality of a jungle cat, and for an instant Trina felt a tiny thorn of jealousy for the ease and pride Verna had for her body. Verna was at home with her physical nature, while she, she didn't know what her sinew and blood were capable of yet. But then she considered how Verna had likely learned that familiarity, and her jealousy died as quickly as it'd been born.

"How's it feel to be an old married lady, Sis?" Mike asked cheerily as he sat down again. He gazed with frank admiration at Trina, and she blushed slightly as she and Brian took seats across from him.

"I've never been so happy in all my life," she said fervently, and possessively she placed her hand in Brian's.

"Wait until later, rosebud," Brian said to her, winking. "You're going to be happier still!"

Her blush grew even stronger, warming her all the way down her cheeks and neck to her hidden breasts as she caught the meaning behind his words and heard the two men laugh. Again her thoughts returned momentarily to her sexual innocence, and to Mike's. In that split-second, she looked at her twin brother and saw how handsome and relaxed he seemed as he sat there. He was wearing only a pair of tight, cotton-twill pants, his tanned, satin-smooth chest rippling with muscles as he chuckled. He was leaner in build, neither as tall or as developed as Brian, but in his own way he was every bit as handsome and alluring as her husband. And there was no question that she and Mike were twins! His face, was as cherubic as hers was angelic, with the same band of freckles across the bridge of his stubby nose, the same deep, guileless eyes, and the same wheat-colored hair. His hair was clipped short, almost to a crew-cut, not because he had anything against the longer hair now in fashion, but because he simply preferred it trimmed so it wouldn't interfere with swimming, his favorite sport. It was very fine like her own, so instead of sticking up in a butch, it lay soft and close, like a blonde furry cap. Now, gazing lovingly at her brother, Trina wondered if he and Verna had already. No, no, don't think this way! Lovemaking was for the nighttime, between the warm intimacy of bedcovers. That's how Mike would want it, Trina knew. She did know, too, because she knew in her soul everything about her brother, just because they were so close, because they were such identical twins.

"Here we are, lovers!" Verna said from the porch, reappearing from the cabin with two more glasses. Her voice had a throaty purr to it which matched her feline motions, and glancing up at her, Trina realized with a start that Verna would have no compunctions about when or where to do it. Verna was an awful lot of woman, in the same way that Brian was a lot of man. Was she too much for Mike perhaps?

Verna had always been provocative, but now, here, dressed as she was, she seemed even more sensual than when she'd been a single girl. She was as bronzed as her new husband, with a smooth taut stomach and full, thrusting breasts barely concealed in the narrow strip of a bright lavender halter. When she bent over the table to pour from the pitcher, Trina could almost see the dark brown rings of her nipples! She wore matching lavender short-shorts that were so tight, that they outlined the tight, slightly protruding mound of her pussy, revealed her firm full thighs, and then tucked into the crevice between her tightly fleshed buttocks, leaving the brown curve of her hips almost entirely naked.

What a scandalous outfit! Trina thought critically, a little prudishly. It was certainly more daring than her own relatively skimpy two-piece bathing suit, for the way the material was molded over the creamy-smooth skin, it seemed to highlight everything a modest woman should keep to herself! Verna was leaving nothing to the imagination! Of course, this was her honeymoon, and she could dress however she pleased, but nevertheless, it seemed to Trina to be an immodest choice, fit only for the intimate eyes of her husband and no others!

Unsettled and unsure, Trina glanced at Brian, and was startled by the expression on his face. His mouth was wide with a profligate smile and his onyx eyes were traveling blatantly over the width and breadth of his own twin sister's voluptuous figure as if, as if he were the one married to her and not Mike! What was the matter with him? And then, even more shockingly, he gave a long and appreciative whistle!

"You've grabbed a beautiful and desirable woman, Mike," Brian said, accepting the drink Verna handed him. "Yes sir, a real dish!"

"I'm a lucky guy, all right," Mike replied, but Trina thought she caught a small hint of embarrassment in his voice.

"You don't know it, I bet," Brian continued expansively, "but that get-up she's wearing is one of her old dancing costumes. Wore it when she was working at the Pink Pussy, up there on that little stage with the rock music louder than thunder. Used to go-go with an orange spot on her, and the color seemed to make the lavender fade out until it almost looked as if she didn't have a stitch on!"

"BRIAN!"

"Aw, Verna, don't get your tail in a knot. It did, y'know."

"That was, that was a long time ago," she said somewhat primly. She sat down and crossed her legs, looking darkly at her handsome twin brother. "I'm a married woman now, and the past...."

"Makes you what you are today," Brian finished for her. "Sensational! If I weren't your brother, Mike would've had a real fight on his hands, lemme tell you true." Then he laughed and leaned across to put his arm around Trina and squeeze her tightly. "That is, until I met my little rosebud, here. She's a hot one, too!"

Trina, shocked at the direction the conversation was taking, almost spilled the drink which had been given her. Despite the fact she rarely cared for liquor, she attempted to salvage the situation by raising her glass and toasting: "Here's to marriage, everybody!"

With a chorus of assents, they all clinked glasses and drank heartily, all except Trina. She tasted hers experimentally. The rum cocktail was tart, without much alcohol taste to it at all, and really very refreshing. Taking a deeper sip, she was glad that she wouldn't have to pretend to like the drinks, and that she could compliment Verna on them genuinely.

"Hey, that hits the spot," Brian said, smacking his lips. "Hope there's plenty more where that came from!"

"Why do you think we were fifteen minutes later checking in than you were?" Verna giggled. "I had Mike stop at a liquor store and make sure he bought enough!"

"Plus a magnum of champagne," Mike boasted. "Mumm's!"

"For later," Verna added. "For after dinner, and you're invited!"

"Oh, that's very nice, but I really don't think that tonight we should bother you," Trina murmured.

"Nonsense, Sis!" Mike retorted. "We were going to go over and ask you, if you hadn't come here first. Now, settle back and enjoy things!"

Trina tried to, but there was still an aura of uneasiness to her as the conversation drifted onto many different topics. She finished her drink and Brian poured her another from the pitcher, and before she realized it, yet another. The rum gradually began to take its toll, and she experienced a general loosening of her nerves; the tenseness left her and she started feeling more relaxed. Then some of her mental cautiousness began to disappear, and surprisingly, she discovered herself being drawn into animated conversation with the others.

During her fourth drink, the quartet moved inside the cottage to the small, compact kitchen at the rear. Dinner was prepared amidst gales of laughter and teasing, for everything that could go wrong, did. The cookstove refused to light, and when finally it did, it belched smoke like a volcano. The steaks were burned, the potatoes under-done, and the salad had bugs in it. But somehow, it didn't matter. With the pop of the cork and the pouring of the celebratory champagne, it seemed to the now giddy bride that it was the finest meal she'd ever eaten. And when at last the champagne was gone and the rum had vanished and it was time to go, Trina was almost sorry it was over. Light-headed and laughing, she leaned against Brian as they walked out into the clearing again. It was dark now, with the hook of a new moon caught in the floor of the sky, but it was a warm darkness, with crickets chirruping close by, and it wasn't scary at all to her. Drunk with love and the unaccustomed alcohol, she looked back at Mike and Verna who were standing arm-in-arm on their porch.

"Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Berman!" she said, waving to them. "Thanks for everything!"

"And good night to you, Mrs. Sandford," her brother called back. He was grinning crookedly, and she could tell he'd had more than his usual amount of alcohol. He was drunk!

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Verna added, and even that slightly risqué remark seemed funny to Trina right then. Starting down the path to their own cottage, she nuzzled closely against Brian and mentioned to him how happy she was that they'd decided to stay later than she'd first planned. Yes, and she thought to herself that Verna wasn't anything like her mother had labeled her; her mother was an old ninny, that's all. And Brian Sandford was a very nice, very handsome, very urbane husband whom she found herself loving more and more each step she took. With arms encircling each other's waist, they climbed the steps of their porch and entered the small, three-room cabin. It was, fittingly enough, a twin of Mike's and Verna's cottage, and lived up to the color brochures as much as anything lives up to its advertising: nicely decorated in the rustic, woodsy notion of bare walls, beam ceilings, and black wrought iron legs on wooden tables and chairs. The carpet was a grass fiber matting which tickled when Trina threw off her thongs and stood barefooted, and it extended throughout the living room, kitchenette, and the double-bed bedroom that was across from the tiny shower and toilet alcove. Once inside and with the door shut, Brian drew his young blonde bride to him before she could reach the light switch. His lips found hers and he pressed his mouth wetly down, grinding tightly against her lips. She felt herself go limp, then the soft eagerness of his tongue bid for entry and she gently pushed him free.

"Darling, darling, I love you," she heard herself whisper breathlessly. She fumbled for the light switch, turning on the overhead fixture that was shaped like a miniature wagon wheel, and then turning to her new husband again, she hugged him like a little girl. "I want to be yours, all yours, forever and ever."

"God, you've driven me batty these last few months, rosebud," Brian groaned passionately against her ear. "And now at last I've got you. I don't know how I managed to control myself."

"You didn't," she giggled. "I made you stop, remember?"

"Yeah, but never again!"

Trina placed her forefinger gently against his impetuous lips, cooing softly to him: "Never again, but you'll see, darling. You'll see that the waiting will be worth it!"

"Will be? Now! Now and not another minute!" Impatient with lust, Brian Sandford crushed Trina to him again, his right hand searching for the zipper along the back of her blue shift. She giggled again, twisting from his greedy arms and dancing lightly a step away.

"No, no, not yet!" she teased him. "Let me get ready first. When I'm all set, I'll call and you can come into the bedroom! That's the way it should be!"

"Should be, my ass!" Brian panted, his tongue circling his lips with anticipation. "I'll just peel those clothes off you like you're a ripe banana, and that'll be enough getting ready! Hell, I've been ready since I first laid eyes on you!"

Trina fluttered her eyelids, cocking her head to one side with a cute mock pout. "Now, darling, this is my honeymoon too. It's something I've always dreamed about, please let me have my way. And, and please don't swear so much."

Brian clenched his fists and teeth with the urgency of his desire to possess his bride's nubile body. "Oh, for Christ's sake, make it fast, will you? How much teasing can you expect one guy to take? Especially from his own wife!"

She placed her hands on her hips jauntily, still eyeing him saucily with her head tilted. "Enough so he remembers she is his wife, a good wife! And for him to be a good husband!"

"I'm not promising anything!" he laughed after her, watching her lithe firm buttocks wriggle enticingly beneath the thin fabric of her shift as she stumbled for the bedroom.

When the door had been quietly shut, he walked over to where there was a bottle of bourbon on the table. He'd brought it along in his suitcase, and now he unscrewed the cap and drank deeply from the bottle, adding more potent liquor to his already large load of rum and champagne. His fingers shook from his pent-up emotions, and some of the amber liquid ran down from the corners of his mouth. Damn, but Trina's beauty stunned him! He wanted to have his long hard cock lodged up inside her tender cunt in the worst way, and being so close to victory now only made him hotter. He'd had plenty of easy girls, but she was another matter, the perfect blend of spice and challenge! He'd pursued that luscious body of hers with all the charm and charisma he could possibly muster, but that inherent Puritanism of hers had always prevailed until finally it had been he who'd surrendered! To think! Him! Brian Sandford, marrying a girl so he could fuck her! But that was okay by him, because he loved Trina, loved her with all his heart and soul, and perhaps some of it was because she had held out against him and remained a virgin. Yet despite her resistance to his seductions, he'd been able to detect a latent hot streak in the young girl that seemingly had never been aroused before. He was certain that once he turned her on to sex, she'd be one hot tomato! Shit, he should have ripped her dress off without all this horse hockey, and sunk his cock up into her cunt until she screamed for more!

In the small, square bedroom, Trina Sandford unpacked the lacy white negligee she'd bought especially for this night, and spread it out on the bed. Then she undressed, quickly and completely, carefully hanging up in the closet or folding in the bureau drawers her clothing so as to show Brian she was a neat and orderly housewife. Walking naked around the end of the bed, she caught her reflection in the mirror over the bureau, and a little embarrassed at her own immodesty, she paused long enough to study the image she made. Her blonde hair hung long and when she let it fall down across her shoulders, it partially covered her full, round breasts. She swept her hair back up again, gazing momentarily at the creamy white skin of her breasts and the pink areoles making small, perfect accents for her bud-like nipples. She moved slightly sideways, pleased with the long length of her legs and the shapeliness of her narrow waist and the lush-white curve of her hips. Then, faintly embarrassed at her lack of proper humility, she sat down on the bed and reached for her negligee. The silky blonde hair of her pubic mound drew her attention as she stretched her arm out for the garment. The curly strands of soft hair highlighted the pink fullness of her vaginal lips, and she could see the tiny pink tip of her clitoris peeking shyly out from the softly rounded flesh of her cuntal slit. My Lord! I must've drunk far too much to be acting like this! she gasped inwardly, shocked by what she considered to be a brazen, almost indecent interest in her own body. She felt so hot! Spirits of any kind had always affected her that way. But perhaps this was better, feeling slightly giddy and daring, for as much as she loved and desired to please Brian, there was no denying the truth that she was agitated over what he would do to her with his thing.

Suddenly she bolted upright off the bed, instinctively clutching the negligee in front of her as if it were a defensive shield for her nakedness. The bedroom door had burst open, hitting the wall of the room with a resounding crash, and Brian was standing spread-legged on the threshold, the front of his swimming trunks bulging ominously at her! His eyes were blazing with the uncontainable lust which was burning through his pulsating loins, and he moved with slow deliberation across to where his bride stood in wide-eyed trepidation.

"Brian! You, you promised!"

Her new husband came closer, shaking his head. "Hell I did," he grinned, and she saw the heavy sag in the front of his elastic trunks bulging obscenely in her direction. What had happened to her darling Brian? It was as if some lusting brute had taken control of his senses! "I can't wait another second," she heard him breathe raggedly. "Right now! I've gotta have you right now, Trina!"

The young blonde cowered back, whimpering with fright as Brian grabbed her arm and swept her into a heady embrace, despite her anguished protests. She was hauled ruthlessly up against the hardness of his desire-stiffened cock, and she could feet the rigid shaft through the thin layer of his trunks and her silken negligee, pulsing like some untamed animal against the tender flesh of her lower belly. His eyes were more obscenely glittering than she had ever seen them before, and his mouth was drawn back over his teeth in a grimace of lewd desire.

"Brian! My God, Brian, please! You're drunk!"

"Damned right, I'm drunk!" he hissed thickly down at her. "Drunk with wanting you!" His hands began to explore her naked flesh with a rough, unfeeling callousness, clutching and squeezing her soft, sensitive body as his lust-swollen penis throbbed excitedly where his loins met hers. She shuddered as he teased the exposed buds of her nipples behind the thin strip of negligee still clutched futilely in her fingers. She groaned, wriggling with fright and shame, but that seemed to make matters worse, as the negligee dropped to the floor and left her entirely naked and defenseless. She could feel his hands pawing over her vulnerable flesh and caressing the tender hillocks of her aching breasts, and thought desperately that perhaps if she gave in a little, it would help return Brian to his sanity. She thrust her moist lips against his panting mouth and slipped her wet pink tongue lewdly between Brian's teeth and deep into his mouth. He sucked hungrily on it, his own kisses in return burning her like a firebrand.

"Easy, darling, please be gentle with me," she whimpered entreatingly into his ear, but Brian was beyond hearing her pleas. There was no verbal response from him, just a deep-throated growl of determination, and he pulled her harshly down on the double bed. Trina felt herself falling across the sheets and then she felt Brian's weight as he crawled up on the bed beside her, hovering momentarily with an evil grin of pure lasciviousness spreading across his alcohol-coarsened face.

"Now! Now, damnit, I'm going to fuck you!"

"Ohhhh! No, no, not this way! Don't use that awful word!"

"Fuck, rosebud! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck you in the cunt!"

"Ohhhhhh!" Trina cried out in hapless despair. Brian had ruined everything, acting this way! All her dreams and desires were being shattered like so much broken glass! It wasn't fair!

Brian groaned with the obscene need to finally possess this warmly throbbing pussy he'd so long been pursuing, the very idea of fucking this innocent girl making his penis throb painfully in the tight unyielding prison of his swim trunks. Unable to control his overwhelming greed for his moaning bride curvaceously twisting beneath him, he stood up again and began to frantically push his semen-moistened trunks down over his thighs and buttocks. Jesus, he had to have her! Right now, before he creamed from the excitement alone!

The cabin's bedroom whirled around Trina as she shivered in horrified fascination before her naked husband. She watched with stricken eyes while he slid down his trunks and flipped them across the room with one foot. She found herself staring at his hard fleshy penis with a sudden rising terror, the giant erection which reared from his hairy abdomen looking like a huge mailed fist to her, his bloated, cum-swollen testicles hanging menacingly at its base. So that's what a man looked like! But dear Lord, he couldn't put all of that up inside of her! He'd split her wide open, right down the middle! No woman could accept such a monstrous pole of flesh between her legs.

"No, Brian! Nooooo!"

"Hot damn, yes!" He levered up over her, leaning over her defenseless body and holding her down against the mattress with one hand while he ran the other greedily over her cringing young flesh. He kneaded her succulent breasts cruelly beneath hands he seemingly was unable to control, tight swells of flesh protruding in white bloodless ridges between his grasping fingers. His head dipped down to her tender budding nipples, and he chewed hungrily at their swollen pink tips until he could taste the sweet, resilient body of his bride filling his mouth.

"No, darling, no, don't do it to me this way!" Trina mewled hopelessly, but her cries fell on deaf ears. Drunkenly Brian held her struggling body tightly against the sheets, pinning her down with the weight of his heavily-panting chest tensed upon her like a giant boulder. She could feel his blood-thickened hardness slithering hotly along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, closer and closer, until it was barely inches away from spearing into her cowering belly, ripping into her virginal pussy to pound her flesh with savage brutality until it inundated her womb with endless streams of lewd white semen! The visions of herself straining wildly under its inhuman girth flashed through her brain with horror and pain, her face contorting in fear and torment as she cried out over and over for her new husband to be merciful.

Ignoring all of his bride's mewling pleas, Brian squeezed his hips further between her slender thighs, forcing her legs wider apart and pinning her writhing buttocks harshly to the mattress. The soft fleece of her pubic hair brushed teasingly against his aching penis, inciting him to incoherent ravings of drunken lust. His knees splayed her slim legs wider still, and he ground his muscular pelvis eagerly against her squirming loins.

"I'm going to fuck you silly," he hissed down at her. "Yeah, I'm going to fuck you, and you're my wife now, so you can't play coy any longer! You've been a prick-teaser all the time I've known you, but goddamn it, you're going to get fucked now, ready, willing, or not!"

"Ohhhhhh, noooooo!" Trina groaned in misery, knowing she was to be brutally raped, raped by her own husband! God save her!

Brian Sandford drove his hand down between the fear-twisting hollows of her soft inner thighs, madly searching to find the tight elastic snugness of her cringing cunt. He felt the blunt rubbery head of his cock slip moistly between the sensitive pink lips of her pussy as he directed it with his fingers right up against the pulsating entrance of her pussy. He jammed his swollen penis forward with a groan then, lodging it against the thin membrane of her hymen like a battering-ram poised at the gates of a castle.

"Damn, you're tight!" she heard Brian groan above her. "You're a cherry, all right!"

"No more, no more," she moaned mindlessly up at him, her pussy feeling as if it were bursting at the seams. Her tiny little cunt lips stretched in a tight oval ring around the thick fleshy shaft of his penis, and involuntarily she tensed her hips as her husband forced his way into her screaming flesh, probing her maidenhead for a way through. He ground his blunt hard cockhead against her tender hymen with a slow deliberation, wanting her to know that she was being fucked royally and that she belonged entirely to him. Trina gritted her teeth together from the agony, and groaned through them as she felt his erection straining at the vainly resisting membrane of her maidenhood. Her fists clenched and unclenched, and she kicked out her legs to try and ease her torture, to no avail. Brian held her tightly and jerked his hips wildly forward, ramming his relentless cock deeper into her protesting young belly until there was a sudden pop inside, and he slid unimpeded all the way up to her now quivering cervix.

"Arrgggggg!" Trina forced air into her lungs and gasped at the pain-filled shock of having lost her virginity so cruelly. She could feel him force his way along the sensitive walls of her now deflowered cunt, pushing her resilient flesh before its skewering hardness like a sword slicing through meat. She winced tearfully from the excruciating hurt, knowing full well that now there was no escape, no defense from the torment until her new husband had emptied his burgeoning testicles inside of her. Brian rammed forward again, feeling his throbbing scrotum slap resoundingly against her twitching, up-tilted buttocks. He could feel his innocent bride grinding her naked hips against the bed in a vain attempt to relieve some of his brutal pressure, her legs kicking out in the air on either side of his impaling loins.

"Arrrrggggg!" She screamed a second time. "Oh God, you're tearing me apart inside! You're hurting me so much! Stop! Stop, Brian, stop!"

But Brian only grinned obscenely as he heard the guttural wail of pain bursting from her constricted throat. He pumped his immense cock deeper and faster into her warmly yielding flesh, his stabbing thickness sinking with each demoniacal stroke all the way up into her quivering wet pussy, the warm tight sheath of her cunt wrapping painfully around it. In that crazed moment of lust and sensation, it almost seemed to the man to be more pleasurable with her squeals and protests, fitting retribution for all the months she'd made him suffer from denial.

"That's right, rosebud," Brian teased down at his bride. "Scream for your supper!" He flexed again, taunting: "You love fucking, don't you?"

"Uuugggg!" Trina yelled piteously. "You're killing me!"

"That isn't the right reply, Trina!" Brian snickered, thrusting even more savagely down inside her quivering pussy.

"Ohhhhhh!" the tortured young wife cried out. "Ohhhh, then yes! Yes!" Tears were running freely down her red-flushed cheeks, and she was afraid now of offending him and making him crueler and more brutal to her than he was already. "Yes, I love it! I love itttttt!"

Brian laughed harshly in response to her babbling entreaty, stroking more quickly in and out, pounding her tender, stretched pussy harder and faster than ever. He moved his clawing fingers back to grip her smoothly trembling buttocks, feeling the satiny skin moist from her cuntal secretions and the blood of her broken hymen. He pulled her tightly grinding pussy closer to his driving loins, his vicious thrusts filling the bedroom with lewd wet smacking sounds that blended obscenely with Trina's continuing moans of pain and torment. His own breath was becoming shorter and heavier, spewing out from his tight-lipped mouth in little gasping puffs, and his naked flesh gleamed wetly with beads of perspiration. He felt himself losing the last vestiges of his self-control, and he grunted down at her in frantic eagerness: "I, I'm cumming, rosebud! Fuck back! Fuck back!"

But even as he blurted out his climax, the first powerful streams of his hot cream-like semen were erupting from the suddenly expanding head of his pulsating cock. The liquid torrent seared deep up inside the fleshy well of his moaning bride's pussy, his cum surging forth with the rolling force of a tidal wave, burning Trina's inner belly with fire and drowning every fractional inch of her raw, sore pussy until it rivuleted back out between the clenching lips of her painfully filled cunt. Trina could feel the trickling sensation of his warm wet sperm as it flowed down the hair-fringed crevice of her thighs and pooled on the clean white sheets beneath her aching buttocks.

And then her husband collapsed over her, his once hard cock deflating rapidly with temporary satiation. Brian fell exhausted across his nakedly crying wife, one arm splayed wide across the bed and his legs like rubber limbs nestled between her open thighs. In the wake of his spent-out emotions, shame and revulsion filled Trina's mind, and tears fell like rain from her anguished eyes.

"Why?" she moaned softly to him. "Why, Brian, why did you treat me so badly?"

"I guess, I guess you'll never understand," he breathed huskily against one throbbing breast. "I guess it's been something building up all this time, and I guess, I guess I just got sick and tired of all your self-righteous virtue. I was out there having a snort, and it suddenly was too much for me, too much for any man to take, begging for a piece of ass on his wedding night."

"Don't speak to me so crudely!" Trina hissed. "You wouldn't do or say such things if you really loved me!"

"Oh, I love you plenty, rosebud," Brian responded, feeling a certain bitterness and anger welling up again in his stomach. "But I'm beginning to see that all your virtue was a disguise. A smoke-screen, hiding the fact that you can't love me. You can't love any man with your body. You're a statue, not a woman!"

"And you! You're nothing but an brute!"

"An brute?"

"A, a sex-maniac!"

"A sex-maniac?" Brian raised up over her, his face twisting with indignation. He felt his limp penis stirring with new life, rejuvenating into an erection more lusty than the last one. He heard his fearful bride stifle a cry as she felt him push his re-hardened cock against her semen-soaked pubic hair and along the moist pink slit of her lubricated-pussy. "A sex-maniac, am I? Well, I'll show you just what a sex-maniac - an brutal sex-maniac - does to prune-cunted iceboxes like you!"

Brian never even gave her a chance to adjust to his sudden presence deep in her pussy. He just began fucking her again, slamming in and out of her, his only thought that of flooding more hot cum deep up inside that cringing belly where it belonged. He vented his raging, drunken lust and disappointment time after time, spewing her womb again and again with the thick, swirling liquid of his sexual frustrations.


Meanwhile, in their own cabin, Mike and Verna Berman were beginning to learn the intimate secrets of married love and each other's eager bodies.

After Brian and Trina had left, Verna closed the door of the cottage and smiled at her new husband. "Is there any booze left, honey?"

"Not a drop," Mike replied, shaking the empty rum bottle. "Just what's in our glasses, and then we'll be dryer than Kansas."

"Then let's polish them off and go to bed, okay?"

Bed! Sex! Mike quivered as he put the bottle down on the sideboard and retrieved his half-full glass. He watched Verna sidle barefoot across the carpeting to the couch and sit down, feeling fuzzy from all the drinking he'd done and completely unnerved by his sultry bride's ripe, provocative charms. He stared entranced as she crossed her long tanned legs Indian-style beneath her lush buttocks, tightening the material of her shorts lewdly into the sharply defined slit up between her thighs, making the folds of her inviting pussy bulge out in lurid bas-relief. She leaned forward to pick up her glass from the table, and the firm mounds of her breasts were exposed to his gaze, with just the hint of the chocolate hardness of her vibrant nipples.

Mike felt a slight flush creeping along the base of his neck as he sat down beside her, unable to take his eyes off her sensual voluptuousness. His cock spasmed in his pants one time, and then - incredibly - again, and quickly, feeling ashamed, he took a long deep pull at his glass, letting the last of his rum cocktails relax his growing arousal. I can't let this happen, he cautioned himself. Remember what Dr. Erastus Shultz's Marriage Manual said about the wedding night, the groom must be gentle and understanding with his bride and not scare her with his masculine strength, a wife is to be tenderly cherished and treated with respect and patience, and never be allowed to think her husband regards her as anything but a decent and honorable woman,

That's what Dr. Shultz said. But God! That doctor had obviously never met Verna! Mike tried to deny his rising passion, but, in spite of his best efforts, he had to admit that his black-haired bride was enough to make an angel give up his halo. She exuded pure animal lust like some kind of mist encompassing her when she walked and talked and smiled. He was filled with the horrible desire to reach out and grab her, throw her down right where she sat and make love to her like a cave man! He felt his cock jerk into sudden, instant rigidity as if it were alive, as if it were straining to prove itself. He tried to will it limp again, to banish the barnyard thoughts swirling in his overheated mind. But it remained blood-swollen and aching in his pants. Think of how pure your love is for Verna, how you admire her personality, how you must control your male demands if you're going to start your marriage off properly! Think of what Dr. Shultz would do if he were here! But Mike had already had too much to drink, and the tantalizing Verna was proving to be too much of a woman.

Guiltily, he turned to her and asked, "W-Would you like me to turn on the radio?"

"If you want to, honey," she murmured, her eyes half-lidded and the tiny tip of her pink tongue slowly circling her lips.

"I thought, I thought we could dance."

"Wouldn't that be uncomfortable for you? I mean, with that big fat hard-on I can see in your pants?"

Mike almost dropped his drink in convulsive reaction to her lewd words. He had never heard a woman talk in such lascivious terms! "Verna, cut it out, for Pete's sake!"

She giggled, uncrossing her legs and stretching out on the couch until her face was close to his and her breath was a branding iron against his cheeks. "That wonderful hard-on that's all mine, Mike honey! That hard, hard prick of yours! You don't want to dance with me and have me rubbing my soft little pussy against it, do you?"

Mike's breath quickened at her obscenities.

"Kiss me!" she whispered throatily. "That's what you really want to do, isn't it? Well, I'm your wife now." She took both their glasses and set them on the table. "So kiss me!"

Mike kissed her, there on the couch where they lounged against the cushions. He might have kissed her in a dozen ways, but he kissed her with his tongue and spontaneously she sucked it down into her mouth with hungered eagerness. Shaken to the core, the twenty year old young man drew back and raised his head to stare at his hotly panting bride, then kissed her once more in the same manner. She didn't resist. The fire was mounting within her like a vortex, and she sucked his tongue into her mouth, probing and charging it with her own wet tongue.

He didn't raise up to stare into her eyes this time. His cock was jerking uncontrollably in his pants as she squirmed her loins hotly against his with the urgency of her sexual desire for him, her lightly covered breasts seeming to seek out the trembling cup of his hands. He pressed her right breast tentatively, caressing it with experimental tenderness, vaguely wondering if Dr. Shultz had been married when he'd written his manual. Then Verna's tongue wormed like a hot wedge of fire into his own mouth and he could taste the sweetness of her breath. Instinctively, he dropped his hand to her belly and stroked the satiny skin as her breath quickened in his mouth, then he let his finger trace down over the gentle rise of her pubic mound to her thighs, all the way to the pulsing crevice between her parting legs.

This was going to be one hot night, he could see that now! She wanted him, wanted him badly, and ol' Dr. Shultz could stuff that book up his ass! Then came the anguished thought - had Verna ever wanted another man this way? Was she all his, entirely his, or had she given herself like this to others before him...? Hell, what difference did that make now? His cock was a hammer now, and this moment, with her, now, that's all that mattered! Look at her, her breasts heaving and her buttocks squirming in those immodest shorts of hers.

Verna gazed up at him. She lay cradled in his arms across his lap, her eyes gleaming with love and adoration, and lust! Delicately, she moved her arm in a way as to press against his lower belly and pelvic region, feeling the rock-hard protuberance of his stiffened cock pulsing beneath his pants. She supposed it wasn't fair of her to act this way, but she didn't care. She wasn't trying to be fair, only fulfilling.

That was a lovely word, fulfilling. What would poor Mike do now if she reached down and squeezed his penis? Whimper? Squeal with joy? God, how she'd like to, but decorum was in order, even though she had no predicted end for what was to come. Ad lib. More irony perhaps. Poor, poor Mike and his silly, immature ideas about what was Right and what was Wrong. Good Girls and Bad Girls, everything so black and white, when, in truth, there were no such things as right and wrong when it came to sex, only fun, fun and fulfillment.

What would happen if he ever found out how unchaste his little sweet bride really was? Well, he wasn't going to find out, not if she had her way. Verna loved him - loved Mike as only an experienced woman can love a man who is basically good and noble at heart. Mike had integrity, and no man of integrity could accept being number thirteen - lucky thirteen! and a wife who'd not only had a full dozen lovers before him, but countless one-nighters and a few drunken blanks when she couldn't remember the next morning who'd stuck his cock in her the night before. No, she'd have to take it slower than usual, lead him gently along, the way you'd housebreak a young puppy and not act like some gutter-slut off the streets. Yet Lord! She wanted him, wanted his thick hard cock up inside her pussy right this instant! How could she hope to last out? Suddenly, he lifted her to him, kissing her and running his hand along the back of her halter, unfastening the snaps. The halter sagged open, and he clutched one of her naked breasts with a feverish need. Verna gasped aloud. Mike's hand squeezed her breast while his tongue played in her mouth and she nibbled on it. Then his thumb and forefinger found the nipple and rolled it tenderly between them, generating tiny shocks of lust throughout her squirming body.

"Oh, Oh Mike!" she moaned deliriously into his mouth.

"Verna, Verna, I love you."

She continued to suck his tongue, drawing it hotly into her throat as the fires went on building inside her heaving belly. She worked her way to her side in his lap, then placed her hand on his naked chest, gradually drawing it down over his stomach until it rested on the belt-loops of his pants. "I love you, I love you with all my heart, and all my body, Mike! Fuck me," she heard herself mewl unabashedly, shamed at the way she could not control even a little hesitancy to show she was a decent woman. "Fuck me with that wild hard prick of yours, before I go mad!"

She touched the front of his pants lightly, her fingers almost searing the cloth of his fly, and then she reached lower, lower, and touched the throbbing bulge down between his legs!

"Ohhhh God!" Mike managed to breathe, almost leaping off the couch in his spasming reaction. He could feel his bloated testicles aching with an abrupt pressure of sperm, and his loins seemed to arch toward her lewd massage with a will of their own. Her tongue trailed over his cheek, searching for his mouth again, and her hand continued to rub his uncomfortably swollen erection with practiced ease.

"Don't deny it, Mike," she droned on hypnotically. "You want to get your big prick into my wet little cunt, and I want it there too! Fuck me, Fuck me good." Her obscene words floated across his liquor-hazed, lust-exploded mind. "You know it, and I know it. Why pretend any different?"

On and on she intoned, and the gross words tumbling from her moist, pretty lips lashed Mike's mind into a swirling frenzy. As if he were somebody else, was spirit-free from his own inexperienced body, he watched himself objectively move forward and touch both her naked breasts again. In response, her hands dipped once more to his turgid penis, and then she was kissing his mouth, sucking and nibbling on his tongue. Mike's hands squeezed and kneaded the flesh of her exposed breasts, her dark brown nipples and her richly rounded areolas. He could feel the wetness of his seminal fluid seeping from the head of his pulsating cock as she continued to manipulate him with an experienced thoroughness until he was sure his balls were going to explode! What kind of wanton had he married?

"Get naked, honey," she whispered to him. "I want to see that huge cock of yours. I want to see how well hung the man I married is! Show me your prick, Mike, let me see it!"

Mutely, blindly, his mind and body afire with alcohol and lust, Mike stood up and undid his trousers. He stripped them down with numbed fingers, then slid off his moistly stained underwear to stand in front of the couch. He saw his bride's mouth widen in a rapturous smile and her eyes glisten with delight as she stared at his thick, blood-enraged shaft quivering out at a right angle from his loins.

"Oh Lord! It's lovely, just the way I hoped it would be!" she crooned very softly. "You want to put it inside of me, don't you? Don't you, Mike? Tell me you do!"

"Yesss," Mike groaned. "Yes, I want to!"

But, in spite of the overwhelming passion which she'd kindled in him, he still felt a certain amount of guilt and uneasiness over the unadulterated lust that was being generated on his wedding night. Shouldn't there be some bashfulness, some sense of modest shyness? This wasn't going at all as he'd expected! His face was crimson from both shame and intense arousal, and he averted his eyes, his breathing ragged, when Verna flung her open halter over the back of the couch and started peeling off her shorts. Yet, he couldn't keep his eyes off her voluptuous nakedness for long, and when the shorts and thin white panties landed beside his bare feet, he once more looked at his bride, and his breath stuck in his throat! She lay back on the couch with her legs spread wide apart, her hands knuckled provocatively on her proud, bronzed hips. She was smiling up at him with her lush red, slightly parted mouth, her teeth slightly bared, just the tip of her wet pink tongue showing. Her high, perfectly rounded breasts were a startling alabaster against her deep tan, jutting up like twin mountain peaks waiting to be climbed, asking to be conquered. The dark-haired softness of her pubic triangle gleamed invitingly and her tapered legs, so satiny smooth at her inner thighs, were moist with the already flowing juices of her passion-flowered cuntal slit.

"Well, honey?" she purred enticingly.

"Verna…" he managed, but nothing else.

"You want to fuck me?"

"Fuck you?" he panted mindlessly, "Damn right I want to fuck you, you bitch! You teasing wench!"

He fell across her on the couch, his whole being bursting with his now unleashed, uncontrollable passions. His hands roved and dipped, his fingers parting the soft, hair-lined lips of her pussy until he could teasingly worm his middle finger up into her feverishly clasping vaginal mouth.

"Oh! Oh, it's so good!" Verna gasped. She moved closer, grinding her thighs and pubic hair hungrily up against his hand. Her own fingers tightened around his pulsating cock. Lord! But it was gigantic! Mike's penis pressed hard against her belly, its blood-swollen head throbbing, causing the entire length of it to jerk spasmodically. She took one fingernail and stroked the urethral tube underneath, around the brown circumcision ring, and then she curled her smooth hand warmly around its thick hot base.

"Uuuuhhhhgggg," Mike sighed. "Christ!"

Verna threw herself full length up against her new husband, twisting and squirming, smashing her lips against his mouth and undulating her belly obscenely with his. She never stopped her stroking hand as she murmured in his ear how much she wanted him. "You're so nice and hard, Mike. I want you to fuck me. Fuck me now!"

Her nails trailed across his back and buttocks then, clutching him desperately tight between her wide-splayed legs. Her other hand was still wrapped around his huge penis and was rubbing it energetically between her pleading cunt lips, her pussy growing wetter and wider with each second, as if it were ready to leap upward and voraciously swallow his cock. Her firm white buttocks began a rotation of great proportion, snaking out wider still on either side of his thighs with her legs wide and her ankles locked tightly against his calves.

"Ohhhh!" Verna squealed, her eyes closed, but as Mike rose above her, ready to stab into the very depths of her lushly welcoming body, she opened them both wide. "Now, honey! Fuck meeee!"

Mike lunged, battering against her, and Verna's still-clasping hand guided his rock-hard erection between the desire-wet lips of her pulsating pussy. He eased downward, not wishing to hurt her with that initial thrust, but penetrating her with a rush, and the absence of the virginal resistance he'd expected was amazing to him. Well, Dr. Shultz had written that some perfectly innocent girls could lose their hymens horseback riding or walking picket fences, but the mouth of her cunt seemed to be clasping and sucking his blood-engorged shaft inward as if wanting to gobble it up!

His hardened cock drove up inside of her pussy tightly at first, but not that maiden tightness he had expected, yet it hurt him along the solid flesh of his rod until he had stroked several times and her inner cuntal walls seemed to slowly expand. She cried out beneath him, a little howl of mixed pleasure and pain. He thrust until their pelvic flesh slapped resoundingly together, and she strained back under him, arching her naked loins up to his now ramming penis, his testicles thwacking into the open crevice of her buttocks with every stroke. She moaned incessantly, her nails raking the flesh of his back and humping buttocks feverishly, and she bit at his lips, turning her face convulsively away, then came back to bite once again. God! He'd never in his life seen anything like this! Or felt it, either! He throbbed the muscles of his cock deep in her belly, out of his mind with his first taste of intercourse, vowing it would be far from his last time, too! He was learning, and learning fast, and he wasn't going to let this get away for long!

"Ohhhhh God! It's wonderful! It's so big, Mike, so big, so big and wonderfully filling!" She worked her legs back and forth, her flailing hips working in time up against him. She felt his hardness pistoning inside her warm cunt, sliding in the moisture of her secretions. A rivulet seeped its way between her thighs, collecting beneath her writhing buttocks on the cushion of the couch.

Mike felt his penis growing with arousal until he thought it would split in half with its excitement. He pumped harder, the battering of her quivering little pussy beginning to call the load of his hot sticky cum up from his swollen testicles. He was going to shoot her full in a minute, any minute, and the thought made him lash out like an infused satyr.

"Oh yes, darling! Oh yess, yes!" Verna wailed. "Ram it to me! Fuck me hard! Fuck me hard and cum, honey! Fill me up!"

Her obscene chantings only drove Mike on harder. He ground his pelvis into her soft, yielding flesh and reached down to grab the cheeks of her crazily undulating buttocks and pull her tighter until the resounding smacks of his naked belly against hers filled the air. His breathing became ragged and hot. I'm losing control, he thought. My God! I'm blowing my mind!

"Fuck deeper! Fuck deeper!" she screamed at him in a frenzy of near-distraction. He clutched her grinding asscheeks with maniacal force and drove his cock to the hilt. "More! More!" she wailed. "Fuck me more!"

He rammed his tongue deep into her wide open mouth, hoping to compensate, the saliva drooling down into her throat. Rabidly, Verna sucked at it, her body caught up in an insane hurricane of raw, naked lust that drove her on unsparingly. Cock! Prick! That was all! She had to have cock! She groaned in her frustration, splaying her legs beyond reason to allow her new husband greater access to her ravenous loins, but he could not take advantage, quivering as he was in the first throes of his orgasm. Verna heaved against his penis mercilessly, uncaring how whorishly she might appear to Mike now. Nothing mattered except the sperm-loaded scrotum which was viciously whacking against her buttocks and the magnificent cock pummeling up inside her milking cunt. She was almost ready to cum and could not stop, relentless devils dancing deep in her belly as she strove wildly for her end under the heaving young man, and end that was an infinitesimal second away.

But then, I, I'm going to do it!" Mike gasped unreasoningly, and threw his head back as if wounded, thrusting his cock's full expanse deep within the young bride's pussy. His mouth fell open and he clawed her buttocks convulsively, feeling torrents of hot sperm spilling from the tip of his insanely jerking penis, surging through the depths of her womb like lava from a volcano. Verna could feel it jet into her welcoming pussy in great virile ejaculations, his penis lurching with each body, tensing spurt. She was still just seconds away!

"Noooo! Nooo, honey! No! Wait for me! Wait!" she sobbed in mindless frustration, but it was too late. She squeezed her loins up against a softening cock which had lost its mastery over her unleashed passions, and her heels pounded despairingly into her husband's spent body. With an empty groan, Mike slipped from between her gyrating thighs to crawl exhaustedly on the floor. He looked up at her, dazed and bewildered in his satiation as he watched what she was doing.

Verna was beside herself now, the end was so near and yet so far. She kicked out her legs wide in the air, her own hands manipulating ineffectually at the hair-rimmed slit between her thighs. She dug into herself greedily, fingering her own cunt lewdly in her effort to reach the impossible depths of her vanquished husband's cock which had betrayed her to the demons of lust. Her face turned crimson, flushed by the passionate need for orgasm, and she continued to moan insatiably as her hand drove harder and faster between her open thighs, driving her fingers deep into the smooth, sperm-coated crevice of her pussy. Electric tingles of darting pleasure raced through her nerves as she felt her long-awaited climax approaching, rushing up through her with a massive roar, she hung for a moment, teetering on the edge of release, her whole naked body vibrating.

"I'm cumming now!" she cried out, her glazed eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling. With a sinking sensation in his heart, Mike realized that Verna was not calling to him in her passion, but to no man in particular and every man in general. She had forgotten who she was or where she was or whom she was with. His mother had been right. Verna's wild, uninhibited masturbation in front of him proved it, and she was enjoying her obscene exhibition so much she didn't even recognize her own husband. Small, glistening tears formed in the corners of his eyes as he stared in disbelief at his bride's total depravity and lewdness. Even as the tears swelled in his eyes from the perverted scene, white-hot juices gushed from around her hotly fucking fingers skewering up into her cunt, covering her hand and flowing down onto the cushions below. He could hear her screaming with a piercing cry of joy, then there was utter silence. Verna stayed the way she was, with her hands tightly pressed inside her cuntal slit. She couldn't bring herself to withdraw her fingers until the last dying throbs had stilled in her body. At last, her fingers slithered wetly from her liquid drenched pussy, and she rolled limply over on her side. Tears still trailed down Mike's cheeks as he staggered upright and stumbled naked for the bedroom. His spirit was humbled, his pride crushed, with the knowledge that he had not been man enough to satisfy her, as she'd so obviously been satisfied many times before he'd married her. He did not even look back at the couch where Verna was just beginning to stir again. He had never felt so lost, confused, and hurt in his entire life.


The morning dawned bright and clear, with the crisp nip of the mountain air which promised to invigorate the most slothful of humans. Yet young Trina Sandford lay transfixed under the bedcovers, quivering from anguish, rage, and shame. She glanced up as Brian padded naked into the bedroom from the bath, and stared momentarily at his heavy-chested, taut-muscled form before turning away, tears welling in her eyes. As she moved in the bed, she accidentally brushed against her breasts, and she winced in sudden pain. She touched the spongy surfaces again with her right hand, discovering the tenderness extended all along her chest and belly to the soft white skin of her inner thighs. Brian's rapacious attack had been more vicious than she'd assumed, and she looked once again at him, thinking he was handsome, but a beast. A course and vulgar jungle beast, bent solely on hurt and cruelty. Brian was, at the moment, more concerned with the pain over his left eye. He'd washed his face in cold water and taken three aspirin, but still he clutched the bureau with one hand and his forehead with the other, waiting for the elves with their pick-axes to stop drilling through his brain. "Oh shit," he muttered, closing his eyes. "Oh my fucking head. I need some coffee."

"I would imagine so," his bride said in a quiet, prim tone of voice. "Is that all you need?" she added, tight-lipped.

"No, I could go for a nice piece of ass," Brian replied with halfhearted lightness, "but that'll have to wait until after the coffee. Come on and join me down at the cafeteria."

"I'd rather rest awhile longer, if you don't mind."

Brian laughed at this, despite the pain it caused. He reached for his clothes, donning a striped polo shirt and trousers as he said: "Really wore you out last night, eh? Well, you'll get used to it, don't worry."

"I sincerely doubt that," she whimpered abjectly.

Brian frowned slightly, then walked slowly over and sat down on the side of the bed. He gently began to stroke his quivering wife as she huddled forlornly under the sheets, and he tried to think of some way to comfort her, to tell her how much he loved her, but his mind was thick as cotton from his hangover. Faltering, he said: "Rosebud, listen to me."

"Go have your coffee, Brian Sandford. Leave me alone."

"I will, but, but listen to me. What you experienced last night is typical."

"Is it? I thought all the girls were supposed to love your sexy ways, and be ready to fling themselves at you."

Brian blushed slightly at the mention of his previous conquests. "I, didn't mean them, Trina. I meant that it was a typical wedding night for a straitlaced girl around the turn of the century. My mother told me so, told me how even when she married Dad during the World War, it took some getting used to. She said it was worse for her mother; that she - my grandmother - cried all night and threw up twice. But after awhile, she became enthusiastic for sex. You will too."

He got up then, kissing Trina lightly on the cheek, and deciding he'd said enough and really did need that cup of coffee, he quietly walked out of the bedroom. After she heard the front door of the cabin close, Trina began to weep in small, shuddering sobs. She'd wanted to reply to Brian, to call him back and tell him it was her fault that things had gone badly the night before, but she'd been speechless. It frightened her too much, the realization she understood what Brian had explained to her and that she was indeed a Victorian girl shackled by prudery and myth. It frightened her to know that from such gruesome beginnings, sexual enthusiasm could grow and grow.


Verna Berman woke up with a start. She sucked in her breath as if she'd just come out of a nightmare, a feeling of icy apprehension creeping over her naked flesh. She looked over at her husband of one day, and feeling safer with his presence, smiled fondly at his smooth torso as he lay on his back, his breath short and fetid from all the liquor he'd consumed last night. She caressed him with her fingers for a moment, and then not wishing to wake him, she slid out silently from under the covers. She didn't want to face him just yet, to see the crumpled expression in his eyes and be forced to verbally relive the happenings on the couch. Later she'd have to talk things over and suffer the shame and anguish she knew he'd heap upon her, but later she could probably handle it. Now it was simply too much to bear.

Shaking her head sadly, Verna began rummaging through her suitcase for some clean clothes. She found a pink velour sweater and wriggled into it without the benefit of a brassiere. She was proud of how her firm, full breasts still did not need any aid to remain high and wide, and she enjoyed the soft caress of the stretchy fabric over her sensitive mounds. The sweater was not a see-through, and covered the full view of her breasts as well as if she had the additional covering of a brassiere, but there was something erotically stimulating in the way she gently jiggled whenever she moved, the distended tips of her nipples bobbing like undulating pointers under the tight fabric.

Then she slipped on a pair of very light pink panties that had rosebuds sewn at the corners, and a darker, rose-colored miniskirt which was so short that its hem was almost halfway up her tanned thighs, showing off the creases in the front where her legs joined her hips. With sudden awareness she realized that she, or anybody, could see her panties, which in turn gave a rather lewd view of the tightly pressed lips of her pussy. A small forbidden thrill tingled through her loins, and she knew that if she had any sense, she'd quickly change into something more covering and modest. This was too daring and suggestive, and Mike would never approve! She was courting a worse scene than ever, once he took a gander at how she was displaying herself! With a small, disheartened sigh, she crossed her arms to remove the sweater, then paused and dropped her hands. Her impulsiveness with Mike last night had probably set back their marriage adjustment a goodly time, and she should act the meek and repentant wife today for both their sakes. But Verna was a strong-willed and prideful girl, and as dangerous and flaunting as keeping these clothes on might be, there rose in her a strange and quixotic rebellion which she could not deny. They would stay on, at least until her point was made! I've got a good body, she thought as she turned toward the door. A damned fine body, and Mike is simply going to have to appreciate it, as I and my lovers before him have.

But how?

She didn't know. She had vowed to control her carnally amorous nature long enough to gradually teach Mike all the tricks she'd come to adore. She wasn't ashamed of the way she was, and certainly her slender, lovable, handsome young husband had shown his own desires to the best of his limited ability. There, that was the problem in a nutshell: limited. Mike was limited not only in technique, but in his very outlook toward sex and bodily satisfaction. She'd scared him last night, she knew that, scared him as a lover; demoralized him as a man; and lowered his esteem and affection for her. And it was this which she felt acutely mortified over, and the humiliating fact that she could no longer trust herself. It was obvious that she couldn't stop from following her lewd desires once the evil urges were started. Her promises had not been able to endure for longer than a few short minutes when faced with the obscene temptations last night, and Lord! What would happen the next time with Mike? And the time after that? Would she end up killing his love and their marriage before it had a chance to begin?

She started down the path to Rockhurst Retreat, her head hanging low and her spirits dragging. But with the crisp morning air and the faint caroling of the birds around her, her hopes and dreams soon became invigorated. A brightness and warmth lifted her morbid thoughts, and the recollection of her prurient actions faded from her consciousness. It was useless to chastise herself for last night's weaknesses, she couldn't go back and erase her obscene wantonness, and surely her love for Mike was strong enough for her to become the good wife he desired. Take things as they come, she told herself, the problems would certainly sort themselves out! They had to!

Fifteen minutes later, Verna arrived at the Retreat, and taking a deep breath, she entered the door to the restaurant. The restaurant was separate from the dining room - which wasn't open until noon - but it was a part of the dimly lit cocktail lounge with its warm, real fire forever crackling in the large hearth. She took a far booth, away from the bright morning sunlight streaming in through the large plate-glass windows, and close to the flames which leapt up from the pitch-heavy logs. As she ate a light breakfast of bacon and eggs, she constantly glanced at it as if the fire somehow comforted and reassured her that all would be well. Just as she was about to wipe up the last of the yolk on her plate with a crust of toast, she heard a familiar voice.

"Mind if I join you, Sis?"

Verna glanced up then, and saw her twin brother Brian grinning down at her. "Oh, good morning," she said, smiling in return. "I didn't see you were here."

"I know. You had your face buried in your breakfast as if your mind were a million miles from here. Where's Mike?"

"Asleep," Verna said, her smile fading.

"Uh-huh." Brian slid into the booth across from hers. "Trina is still in bed, too. A casualty, recuperating."

"A what?"

"Never mind," Brian sighed. "I've been down here awhile, but over in the lounge part. Damned good thing the booze never stops flowing around here. I needed some hair of the dog that bit me last night."

"Don't tell me you're drunk already today!"

"Not by a long shot, but I'm not feeling any pain."

The waitress came over, and Brian ordered a cup of coffee. Neither he nor Verna said anything until the girl returned, and even then there was a long pause, only the sound of stirring spoons cutting the silence. At last Brian asked: "Well? How'd it go?"

"How did what go?"

"Last night! How was it?"

Verna blushed slightly at his blunt question, and said uneasily, "Oh, fine, just fine."

Brian caught the lack of heart in her response, and knew she was avoiding the issue. His early-morning cocktails had loosened his tongue enough to pursue the subject. "Come on, Sis, this is me asking. Ol' brother Brian, who knows all about your wild times. Remember that weekend in Monterey when we had motel rooms next to each other? The walls were so thin we could hear every move everybody made, and I don't know who was screaming the loudest - Maybelle with me, or you with what's-his-name."

"Shannon. Steve Shannon," Verna said tartly.

"Yeah, Steve Shannon. Never figured out why you didn't marry him. He was bonkers over you, as I recall."

"I didn't love him, that's why."

"Uh-huh. Sex is sex, but love is love."

"Brian, please."

"I know, I know," he said, taking a sip of coffee. "You're married now and a regular straight-arrow."

"No, it isn't that, Brian. We're too close to have silly secrets between us, especially over things like that. It's just..." She lapsed into a weak silence, unable to voice the sadness dwelling in her heart.

"Let me guess," Brian said quietly. "It was a bust."

"What Brian?"

"A bust, Verna, like mine was last night. A damned disaster."

"Was it?" Verna leaned forward, her breath hitching in her throat. "Was it really?"

"Might as well have fucked a Barbie doll," he explained morosely.

"Trina'll learn in time, Brian. I was scared the first time, scared shitless, and must've been the world's all-time worst lay."

"Yeah, you're right. She'll learn in time, I hope!"

"But if you're a little rough with her now, that's to be expected, Brian. I mean, you're a man, but with a woman it's different." Unable to contain herself, the dam of her emotions having been cracked by her brother's candid remarks, Verna blurted out: "It's inexcusable for me to have acted like you probably did. I, I really blew it last night."

"Blew it? Well, what's wrong with that?"

"I don't mean it that way, Brian! I mean, well, I got carried away by things, only Mike, didn't. He wouldn't even speak to me afterwards, and I'm not sure I'll be able to take what he does say when he finally gets around to it. I feel like, like some old whore who's seduced an innocent high school kid!"

Brian, seeing the tears welling in his sister's eyes and the trembling of her breasts beneath her thin sweater, reached across the table and fondly patted her hand. "Easy, Verna. It's not all that bad."

"I don't know what to do about it, Brian. He knows, Brian, he knows all about what I was and still am. Maybe not the facts, dates, and names, but the general idea. I'm not sure I can act the sweet and naive girl around him any longer, or if I can, that it will patch up the mess I made of it last night."

"Sweet and naive? Why can't you just be yourself?"

Verna couldn't help laughing at that, though the laugh came out mirthless and bitter. "Don't you understand? I was myself, and that's what caused the trouble!"

Brian shook his head. "Don't you believe it, Sis. Take it from me - and I should know, a man may want his woman to be a lady in the living room and put up a big front about her decency and propriety, but he wants a slut in the bedroom."

"No, not Mike."

"Yes, including Mike." Brian leaned forward, looking earnestly into his twin sister's eyes. "Listen, I'll tell you a story. When I was at that nudist beach summer before last, I was talking to this married chick - hell, she was about our age now - and she told me her sex life had improved greatly since she and her husband had become naturists. She said she had a good figure, and he was glad everyone knew it belonged to him! Men are funny that way, and Mike's no different. He just doesn't know it yet."

"All right, assuming you're correct, what do I do about it?"

"Same kind of thing I'm going to do about Sue. I'm not going to say I'm sorry, and I'm not going to reverse myself and suddenly become humble and contrite. It's up to me, and to you, to show Trina and Mike, that they're the ones who're all bent out of shape! In other words, don't try to be sweet and naive, but be even a wilder lover than you were last night! Bowl him over with sex! Do it with him the way you want to, and do it and do it and do it, until you've shown to him how much fun it is, and how much you love him for it! Fuck your way to happiness!"

Verna laughed again, this time with genuine pleasure. "Well, if it doesn't work, it'll be great while it lasts!"

"That's the idea!"

For a moment, he and Verna lapsed into silence again, and he studied her voluptuous beauty over the rim of his cup while he drank the coffee. The first inkling of a wickedly lewd idea came to him then, and as he sat, he mulled over the plan to see how it might be worked. Thoughtfully he shaped and molded the details, for if he were successful, it would be one of the wildest afternoons he could have ever dreamed of! He'd always harbored a secret desire to watch his twin sister being fucked, to see her writhing and moaning beneath a lustful man, and her conversation about last night with Mike had sparked the obscene and perverted wish into a full-grown demand., And if Trina were along with him, as she more than likely would be, the sight would blow her prudish mind! Of course, Trina might object to the point of ruining everything, but Brian believed the advice he'd been giving Verna, and he had the notion that spying on another couple having intercourse might be just the ticket to set his bride on fire with passion! The more he thought about it, the more he was eager to try his scheme. He knew that there was a good chance it would not happen, there being too much coincidence and luck attached to it for any guarantees, but he was determined to give it a try. What the hell, there was nothing to lose, and a lot to gain! His penis throbbed with depraved excitement, his mouth twisting in a smile of sheer lechery.

"Tell you what, Sis," he said smoothly to Verna. "I'll host a party tonight over at our cabin. You know, turnabout for the celebration you and Mike gave last night. Only you see to it that hubby drinks like a fish, until all of his stupid resistance is flooded away."

Thinking about how Mike had acted while inebriated with the brandy and champagne, Verna saw that her brother had a good idea. Liquor short-circuited inhibitions better than anything she knew about - as well she should know from the times she'd gotten boiled and then been fucked by her dates! "But," she told her brother sagely, "you better be the one who feeds the sauce to Mike, not I. He'll be on his guard with me, and you're a man he'll go along with."

"And maybe listen to," Brian added. "If it comes around to the subject, I'll try and set him straight." Then, leaning forward more intently, he said: "Don't rest on your laurels until tonight, though. Get him to bang the crap out of you as soon as you go back to your cabin!"

"Not a chance, Brian," Verna sighed unhappily. "That bed is strictly off-limits for sex, at least until he cools down."

"Then take him out in the woods."

"Up in the hills?" Verna's mouth opened wide with surprise. "You mean get him to lay me right out in the open?"

"Sure! A little picnic, maybe, nice and innocent. Once his guard is down, sock it to him! He loves you, Sis; he won't be able to say no, not once his juices start flowing. And Christ, I know how you operate! You could get a corpse stiff if you put your mind to it!"

"How the hell do you know so much about me, anyway?" Verna snapped, nettled by her brother's obvious education in her sexual affairs. "I wasn't that open about my men, was I?"

"No," Brian answered, winking good-naturedly. "No, but your men liked to talk to me, since I'm your brother. Or didn't you know you were called The Well?"

"Brian! If you ever told Mike that, I think I'd kill you!"

"Don't worry, I won't! But just between you and me, Sis, I like you wild and woolly! Face it, you're better than all the girl's I've known, and if they like getting screwed, why shouldn't you? Isn't that what love's all about - seeing that the one you love is happy? And Verna, I love you more than anybody else, except Trina, of course."

"Thanks, Brian," Verna said softly, smiling tenderly at her brother. "That's sweet of you to say. And, I think you're the greatest, too - outside of Mike. Maybe, maybe I will try and get him to go on a picnic with me like you suggest; I think he needs a little outdoor recreation!"


Young Mike Berman studied his black-haired bride, and despite his mixed and seething emotions, he couldn't help admiring Verna's magnificently proportioned body. She was sitting in a relaxed position on a striped blanket, their picnic lunch spread around her like an offering, and her hand was slightly stroking the stem of her wine glass. Golden noon sunlight filtered through the surrounding pines and gilded her already tanned form like an admiring spotlight from the Gods. From where Mike stood at the other side of the mossy clearing, the twenty-two year old girl was the ultimate he had ever desired in a woman, and his leanly muscular thighs throbbed with a defiant desire to once again possess all of her ripe curvaceous flesh.

But as much as he wanted to touch her, kiss her, make love to her - as much as he knew she wanted him to - he couldn't seem to make that first move. Not after last night. One half of him cried out that he was a man, her man, her husband, and should therefore enjoy all of the sweet taste of her, but the other half shouted that he was also a man of pride and integrity, and should have nothing to do with a warm sweetness that was like poisoned honey. He didn't know what to do any longer. He had hoped that coming up in the hills as she'd suggested would somehow provide the direction he should take, for having spent the morning alone in the cabin had only left him confused and wretched.

She'd tried - oh God, how Verna had tried to be nice and cheery and wifey to him! but he was still stymied, unable to fathom the situation, much less how to handle it. The whole affair was so damned alien to him, so utterly foreign to anything he'd ever had to encounter before in his life! He'd stare at Verna and know he loved her with all his heart, and then his whirling mind would envision his lovely bride in the arms and bed of another man, and he would grow cold and sick in his soul.

Mike's inexperienced mind continually swirled with lewd pictures of Verna and her previous, unknown lovers, her curvaceous naked body displayed in abandon for them; her svelte, tapered legs spread and her warm, moist thighs pulsing; the hairy lips of her pink pussy quivering with fires of unrefined lust, Her premarital lovers were faceless in his mind, for all that Mike imagined were their hard, erect, cocks standing out from their loins, their sacs of sperm-bloated testicles swinging down between his wife's welcoming thighs as she reached out to grasp their great throbbing penises and lead them in toward her soft, urgently demanding cunt, and then the wet sluicing sounds as the no-name men wormed their virile cocks inside the spasming hair-fringed mouth between her wide-splayed legs, her pussy clasping around their meaty shafts with its own volition, the deep throbbing, the incoherent babblings as their desire-convulsing bodies reached for the magical apex of climax, and then the lewd cascade of cumming, with white-hot semen pooling in his bride's belly with her own sexual juices.

God! Mike clenched his eyes tightly together, unable to look at Verna alone and expectant on the blanket. Trembling with his nightmarish imaginings, he swiftly turned and crouched down beside the murmuring stream again, slowly revolving a bottle of red wine that was in the cold water, placed there when they'd first arrived in order to chill it. He wished that the brook could somehow cool the jealousy and shame which raged in his heart, and wash away the hurt which burdened his thoughts. His lovely wife found that she was near crying, and she felt warm tears beginning to form in her eyes as she watched her husband at the stream. She compressed her lips tightly, remembering her twin brother's advice and determined that Mike would not see her anguish. When at last Mike took the bottle out and came toward her with it in his hands, she consciously ignored the obvious agitation in his manner, and managed to smile weakly up at him as if nothing was wrong.

"Having a good time, honey?" she half-whispered.

"Yeah." His voice sounded strangely hoarse. "Yeah, a great time, a real great time."

"I, I'm glad." She slid nearer to him as he sat down on the blanket. "You want me to help you with the wine?"

"No. I don't need your help." He grabbed the bottle opener with its corkscrew attachment and started jabbing it into the cork. The inside of his mouth was terribly dry. He wished she wouldn't sit so close to him, so close that he could smell the feminine heat of her body. Jesus, it was all building up inside him like an atomic explosion, building up until he wasn't sure he could control it. He coughed reflexively, as if to swallow the words of anger and pain that were forming in his throat, trembling as Verna slid very close to him now, the twin mounds of her near-naked breasts touching his arm. No brassiere - shit, she didn't even have the modesty to cover her breasts decently. But what for? he thought cynically. How many men has she been naked for already, thrusting out those magnificent breasts to be kissed and sucked and squeezed?

Verna reached out hesitantly and stroked his bare arm, plucking at the short sleeve of his T-shirt. Mike didn't look at her, his eyes remaining on the stubborn bottle of wine, his lips still tightly pressed while he tried to pry the cork out. He needed a drink the worst way. Why didn't the cork come out? It was like it was glued in there! He battled the bottle some more, shaking her fingers off of him, as if they were annoying insects, and then the top portion of the cork broke, dislodging the cheap corkscrew. Now he'd have to start over!

But it was too late for that. It was too late for everything, and his bitterness and self-pity welled up in his mouth till he thought he'd choke. He turned savagely to Verna, his eyes smoldering, and said in a shaky voice:

"How many, Verna?"

The tone of his voice caused her heart to pound violently. "What, honey?"

"Don't honey me," Mike snarled. "How many were there?"

"Mike, Mike, please."

"Goddamn it!" he snapped. "How many were there before me?"

"We, we better change the subject," she said haplessly.

"I'd hate to ruin your day with my maudlin feelings," he replied, his words abruptly clipped. "I must seem like an idiot to you, asking that."

"N-No, Mike," she moaned weakly. "No, you don't. It's just that I love you, I love you very much, and, ate seeing you hurt this way. Please, can't you just forget about it?"

"Fine, just fine," he said sarcastically. He yanked viciously at the cork in the bottle. "My tender bride turns out to have laid everything but the Atlantic Cable, but I'm suppose to forget it. Forgive and forget it. Well, you're right, I will forget that question; I doubt you've got fingers and toes enough to count up all the men you've had before me. But answer me this: did you like it?"

In spite of herself, Verna found her mind returning to some of her boyfriends she'd known and been intimate with, to the vision of spreading her legs to them and the feel of their blood-rigid penises sawing mercilessly into her smoothly responding cunt. Had she liked it? Yes, yes, she had. She had enough to achieve her own climax, to cum in blinding, crashing waves and to cry out her own fulfillment and send their flood of milky semen deep into her belly.

"Well?" Mike asked, flinging the bottle from him in frustration. "I asked you a question, bitch!"

"Oh Lord, Mike, honey, don't torture me this way!"

"You did like it, didn't you?"

"Yes!" she blurted. "Yes, yes!"

"You fuckin' whore!"

"Yes! I'm a whore!" The words were like a whip to her brain, a well-deserved verbal chastisement, and she felt the masochistic need to hear more. "Yes, I'm a slut, a tramp!"

She sobbed uncontrollably against his chest now, but he refused to touch her. "You act like you're proud of the fact," he said.

"Noooooo," she walled miserably. "No, I'm not proud. I love you, and I've hurt you deeply, but, but this all happened before we met, Mike, believe me, before we met. I didn't know, How could I know it would make this difference?"

"It's the idea you let a man fuck you at all that hurts, Verna," he said contemptuously, and goaded with righteous indignation, he added: "And so I wasn't good enough for you last night. Me, who hasn't been around and cracked my nuts on other girls, I couldn't please you last night, could I?"

"No, Mike, no, I love you, I want only you."

"I was a reject!"

Her fingers were kneading the front of his T-shirt spasmodically now, and Verna felt a curious tingling sensation beginning in the pit of her stomach. "You were fine, you were wonderful, Mike."

"Don't lie to me!" he barked scornfully.

"You, you're everything I want in a man, Mike!"

"Oh, you like to ma-masturbate better than fucking, is that it? Your finger instead of my cock, right?"

"No! No, it, it happens that way sometimes, that's all, honey. You set me on fire last night, made me ready to crawl the walls with passion!" The tingling was spreading, inflaming her loins, and she knew it was the beginning of intense arousal. For some perverted reason, her husband's derisiveness was having a sexual effect on her body. She was being slowly consumed with lust, with a desire for Mike, for his flesh, for his, his cock inside of her. I want him to fuck me, she thought suddenly. I'm a whore, aren't I, nothing but a whore, and that's what whores want, isn't it? To be fucked, fucked, fucked!

"It was our first time, Mike," she said, faltering. "A, a couple learns together, from each other, about each other's needs and moods and delights." Her hand began to make tiny circular motions on his stomach, rubbing gently, teasingly, dipping lower until it was just about to the waistband of his Bermuda shorts. "I've had other men, it's true. But no man like you, Mike, and we'll be wonderful together, you'll see. We'll learn from each other, if you'll give me, give us, the chance..."

He wanted to throw her away as he had the wine bottle. He didn't want another thing to do with her, but he was unable to take his eyes off her provocative lushness as she squirmed her thinly clad body eagerly against him. Involuntarily, his penis gave a tentative spasm against his underwear, and his testicles contracted with a lewd spark of arousal.

God, if he only didn't love her so much! Oh, how he'd like to give in to his physical cravings right this minute, sweep her in his arms and kiss her and tell her yes, he'd forgive and forget. She was so damnably desirable, so, so damned hot! He moistened his lips, already mentally kissing her soft-coral lips, caressing her vibrating white breasts and tweaking the dark-rimmed nipples he could almost see. Mike's excited cock lurched with new hunger and strained for release against his pants. He sucked in his breath, trying to stiffen his resolve and reaffirm his anger, and banish the lecherous thoughts which were betraying his mind, but in spite of his best intentions, his hardened penis remained throbbing and blood-swollen. He looked down at Verna's wandering hand, remembering how she'd touched his cock the night before and wondering if his fury and wrath were making her attempt the same thing again. He couldn't comprehend what was happening to either of them now; couldn't understand at all.

"What, what the hell do you think you're up to, Verna?"

"Mike," she moaned soulfully. "Oh God, Mike,, . I want you so badly!"

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"I want you to, to fuck me! Fuck me right here and now!"

"What?" he said again, not believing his ears. "Here? Out here in the open like a couple of, of rutting animals?"

"Yes! Oh Mike, yes!"

Her hand moved to the waistband of his Bermudas now, sliding under it and the elastic top of his shorts. She could feel the wiry bristles of his pubic hair, and the touch of him sent ripples of desire coursing through her veins. Her hand dipped still lower, contacting the head of his erection, and she ran her fingernail over it tantalizingly. Blood pounded through Mike's loins, causing his cock to tremble with its hardness and palpitate achingly under her probing caress. Jesus! She was stark staring mad! This was a hundred times more sinful and debauched than before, where at least they'd been in the privacy of their own cabin! His brain reeled, her fingers on him like broiling hot irons, inflaming his genitals until arousal consumed his desire to resist. His eyes flew guiltily around the small clearing, afraid that her abandoned groping would be seen. But nobody was around, they were alone, as alone as if they were in bed.

"Mike," his bride mewled pleadingly, completely caught up in her excitement, knowing that she was awakening her husband's love for her. It was as her twin brother had prophesied - that by being more blatantly prurient than she'd been before, she was awakening both Mike and herself to a passion which even she hadn't realized existed until now! She had to have him! "Mike, Mike, don't you want to fuck me?"

"Holy Jesus!" he gasped. His hips began to squirm and rotate on the blanket from her lewd ministrations under his shorts, and he was breathing as if he'd run the hundred-yard dash in record time. "I, I can't believe this!"

"Don't you, Mike? Don't you?"

Verna's nimble hands continued to caress his rigid shaft, sliding down across his swelling testicles as she ground her soft, brassiere-less breasts against his t-shirted chest. Her other hand was beginning to dexterously unsnap the front of his Bermudas, widening the zippered fly so she could clasp his aching penis more firmly. Her lips were parted and she kept running her pink tongue wetly back and forth across them; her breath was fervid and sweet against his face, her eyes lidded with her own sensual appetites.

Mike knew he should pull away from her, end this impossible scene before it reached the point of no return. But the prurient pleasure of her expert manipulations rendered him frozen, incapable of motion. She's crazy! he thought with gathering panic. I married a nymphomaniac! Playing with a man's penis right out in the open this way! Has she no shame?

"Tell me you do, Mike, Tell me you want to fuck me before I explode!"

"I can't!" he groaned, shaking his head with confusion. "This is sinful, this is wrong! You're a slut, a whore, you've slept with dozens of other men."

"No, Mike, you're the one who's wrong," the unhappy brunette blurted out from the pressure of her needs. "You've been raised to think sex is fundamentally dirty and degrading, and it's not! It's fun and natural, and a nice way of getting closer to somebody else!"

"Is that all it is? Is that all I am to you?"

"No! Sex is not wrong by itself - but it's not as good as with the one you love! All right, so I've had sex with other men, but don't you understand? It makes me appreciate the love I have for you, Mike! Ohhhhhh, love me, fuck me, love meeee!"

"God, Verna!"

"It's okay, honey! Enjoy me, enjoy what I have to give!"

"But, but what if somebody comes along and sees us?"

"Nobody will," she moaned, not caring at that moment if they were spotted. "We're all by ourselves way up in the hills. Just let yourself go, honey, and tell me you love me. Love me and want me."

"I..." His voice choked in his swollen throat. He stared at his bride transfixed, his cock pulsing maddeningly in his opened Bermudas from her lewd and wanton fondling, her lurid arguments battling with his own well-taught concepts of morality. It was wrong, it had to be! Or was it? So much had happened in so short a time. "No,, no!, Ohhhhhhh, shit, yes! Yes, yes, yes!"

Mike couldn't help himself any longer! His admission tore from his chest in a strangled cry he barely recognized as his own, and then she was pressing her warm moist lips down hard against his mouth. Verna's fingers were moving faster and faster on his turgid penis as their tongues curled around together burning and flicking back and forth in the rhythmic attitude of copulation. And then she drew hers out and whispered wetly in his ear: "Make me naked, Mike! Rip my clothes off! Mike, rip them off as if I were a slut! As if I were your own, personal whore!"

His hand bunched over the thin fabric of her sweater, then savagely he tore it up and over her head. There was a whispering, whooshing sound as it came loose from her arms, and, her taut hard-nippled breasts were suddenly nodding free in the cool mountain air of the summer day. He gropingly closed over her miniskirt next, clutching it desperately as he fumbled with the zipper, and when he yanked it down over her undulating buttocks and hips, he curled his fingers so as to grab her panties as well. She helped him remove the skirt and panties by twisting her hips and squeezing her thighs together, and viciously he drew them down over her straining legs, wet now from the flowing secretions of her secret pussy. And then she was entirely naked and splayed upon the blanket, and his hands were on her breasts, kneading and manipulating her pebble-like nipples until she mewled with pleasure deep in her throat. Then one hand was moving down, down over her rippling belly, through the soft dark curls of her pubic hair, finally sliding into the moist, trembling slit of her expectant pussy. She whimpered in unrestrained excitement as he massaged the tiny pulsing bud of her clitoris between his thumb and forefinger. Her naked loins began to grind down into the blanket in wild uncontrolled counterpoint to his lewd fingering movements between her widespread legs. Her head flailed from side to side, the sensations so intense within her that fresh new moans of passion and arousal erupted from her throat one after another. Verna continued to enfold her husband's granite-hard cock, drawing the shaft back and forth, ticking the blood-swollen vein on its underside. She felt every ridge, every muscle, every vein in its immense expanse, but she wanted to know it better, to learn each and every inch of it. She was totally lost now in the building passions which she had allowed to ferment in both their bodies, and which their caressing hands were now further enhancing.

I want to suck it, she thought then as she stroked his penis. I want to suck his big hard prick before he fucks me with it. I want to feel it in my mouth. I want to know what my husband tastes like and really enjoy it.

"Let me teach you, Mike," she sighed up at him. "Let me teach you things you never knew existed before!"

Mike ran his tongue across his lips again, finding them drier than before. He felt a tremor course through his loins. Christ, why not? He loved her, he insanely reasoned; he'd always love her, no matter what she was or did! If she could show him some things she'd learned from other men, he'd be a fool to turn it down! Christ he loved her!

"Yes," he groaned in answer. "Yes, teach me everything, you little bitch!"

He felt his bride stir then, and suddenly she was on all fours beside him, hovering over his belly, staring down at him with love and devotion in her eyes. She brushed the tips of her naked breasts across his loins as he lay on his back on the blanket, and whispered enticingly down at him: "I want to kiss your prick, honey. I want to kiss your lovely prick and then I want to suck it! Would you like that?"

Tremors of lewd desire ran rampant through his flesh. He'd never dreamed of such degeneracy! Oh, sure, there'd been the locker-room talks his friends always indulged in, but he always considered that to be wild imagination or something you paid a whore to do if you were hard up! But his own wife! His own ever-loving wife begging to suck his cock, right out in the middle of nowhere! And she wanted to, wanted his cock, wanted his body, wanted him!

"Yes!" he crooned. "Oh Jesus, yes, baby, yes!"

Grinning licentiously, Verna began to slide his Bermuda shorts and underwear down off his thighs and legs, until his blood-raging penis burst out and into the warm palm of her hand. When his clothes were entirely off and he was naked from his t-shirt down, she held his hardened cock clasping for a moment, making little animal sounds of abandoned joy deep in her chest. She cupped his testicles in her other hand, rubbing them gently back and forth, squeezing them very softly, making the cum build hot and explosive in his scrotum. Mike felt the exquisite thrill of her ministrations searing through his body, and suddenly he didn't care anymore, he didn't care where she'd learned to suck cock or how many other men she'd done it to; he didn't care if they were watched or not, or if CBS was filming it for their evening news broadcast! The only thing that mattered was that Verna, luscious, desirable Verna, was playing with his cock and balls and wanted to suck him off!

Verna poised herself above the rigid shaft of her new husband's penis. Her eyes were wide open and she stared down at the thin sheen of lubricating fluid which dribbled from the small opening in his cockhead and flowed down along the crown to shine moistly in the brilliant light of the afternoon sun. She kept staring at it as if hypnotized by that unseeing eye, and like a charmed cobra, it seemed to sway before her face and urge her mutely to come closer, draw nearer. She obeyed. Her lips were only a scant inch from the purplish, blunt cockhead, half an inch, and then her tongue came out with an agonizing slowness and touched the rubbery flesh. She began to swirl her tongue around the opening, lapping up all the delicious liquids, her brain surging from the electric sensation of his penis and the salty, ambrosial tang of his seminal emission. It was good, good, good! She oval her lips wider and took the huge bulbous head inside her butter-soft mouth, swirling her tongue faster and faster now over his quivering erection, causing Mike to cry out in pure delight.

"Ohhhh, Jesus, Verna! Ohhhhh, I never knew!" With a spontaneity born of inexperience, he wrapped his hands in her hair and pushed her face down on him, making her take more of his lust-swollen prick into her gently nibbling mouth.

She massaged the soft resilient skin of his testicles with one hand, while the thumb and forefinger of her other hand were stroking the thick base of his cock at the same time. She was sucking rhythmically up and down, twirling the softness of her tongue maddeningly around it at the apex of the withdrawal, the tip flicking across the tiny split in the cockhead. Mike flexed his buttocks on the blanket, moaning, looking down at the cascade of her darkly falling hair as her head bobbed up and down above his naked loins. He imagined her pink fleshy lips being pulled out grotesquely, clinging to his hardened cock as she sucked voraciously, his feverish mind churning with the lewdness of her act. He could feel her naked breasts dancing warmly against his belly, and he knew that he was going to cum before very much longer. He could feel the surging, boiling activity in his scrotum, and the impending eruption of his churning sperm which his bride was threatening to milk right out of him. God, she was he was incredible! He had never believed it could be like this!

There was nothing else in the world, in the universe for Mike Berman at that very instant. He didn't see his sister or Verna's brother stand together in the shadows of the surrounding brush; he didn't see Trina waver unsteadily or Brian take her arm with a gentle tug against his body. Even if he had seen, he wouldn't have bothered to do anything about it. The only thing that existed for the twenty year old bridegroom then was the surging cauldron of hot cum which was only seconds away from ejaculating from his ballooning testicles.

Blonde Trina Sandford walked slowly through the forest, her gaze wandering from Brian by her side to the jumble of ridges marching off in the distance in their various shades of green and gray. She'd been a little sorry that Mike and Verna hadn't been at their cottage when they'd stopped by a few moments ago, for she loved her brother and liked his bride, and it would've been nice to see them again after last night. But then again, she wasn't too sorry, for when Brian had returned from his extended breakfast with a carton of groceries and assorted liquor, he'd told her about the plans for a party that evening, and so she knew everybody would get together then. Besides, it was extremely pleasant just being alone with Brian, hiking through the wooded and rock-strewn wilderness. It seemed strange to her that Brian acted intent on following a particular route, one without a defined path but which meandered through the shrubs and trees. One that required him to pause occasionally and look around, listening closely, as if he were on the track of some stealthy forest animal. But this was only a fleeting thought to her, for her young heart was beating rapidly with other more important matters.

The sordid and painful events of her wedding night still preyed heavily on her mind. The more she considered them and her prissy behavior with Brian this morning, the more she became flushed and angry with herself. Brian had conquered her out of passion and lust, not love and tenderness, but she could not blame him, not really. Perhaps she had made a mistake by abiding by her mother's puritan lessons when Brian had been overtly persistent about having her before their marriage. She had been too prudish in their sexual relationship, she now realized, and his brutal attack on her had been brought about by her lack of understanding of his frustration. But it was going to be different from now on, she pledged. She was still too inexperienced to know exactly how to do it, but she was firmly resolved to try and become the lover he desired and needed. Good Lord! She was a grown-up married woman now, and it was high time she discarded at least some of her Victorian hang-ups! Possibly if she had done so a long time ago, as Brian had urged, none of last night would have happened, and at this very moment they would be in each other's arms making beautiful love.

She trod softly over the thickly grassed earth, smiling slightly with the dream of her new resolutions, plucking off an occasional burr that stuck to her thin blouse and short, pleated skirt, glad she'd decided not to wear stockings or panty-hose on the walk. Brian, a step ahead of her, spread a tree branch aside that was in their way, and then, waiting for her to pass, said, "I wanted to apologize for last night, Trina. It must've been pretty rough on you."

She smiled at him wistfully, shaking her head. She couldn't seem to find the proper words to answer him, so she remained silent for a moment, and Brian, evidently taking this as a rebuff, tried to comfort her some more.

"You were so breathtakingly beautiful, standing there, nude," he said contritely, feeling his penis throbbing between his legs. God! How he wanted to fuck her again! But he knew his chances of hauling her down on the ground where they were and ramming it to her was out of the question. Mental victory would have to come before physical victory, and the time was not yet ripe for that. He continued to look sad-faced at his bride, his true emotions so lacking remorsefulness that he feared she'd see right through him. "I, I don't know what got into me," he added lamely, "maybe the devil. The devil made me do it."

"No, darling," Trina whispered, awkward with her own feelings of guilt and embarrassment. "It was me. I'm more to blame than you are, and what you told me this morning is right. You're a man, while..." she ended the sentence in a woeful sigh.

"And you're a woman," Brian murmured softly. "One hell of a woman."

"Am I?" she questioned despondently. "I wasn't, I wasn't when you needed one, Brian, but I promise you this. From now on, I'm going to do everything I can to be a woman. All the woman you can handle!"

"You will be," he promised her. "You'll see, you will be!"

I hope so, for the sake of our marriage and love, I hope so! She turned away from him to hide the sudden surge of tears that were blurring her eyes. "L-Let's rest here a moment and then go back to the cabin, darling."

Brian hesitated, looking around as if earnestly seeking something, frowning slightly. "No, not just yet, if you don't mind, Trina., eel sort of fidgety today, and you know how much I like to hike in the country. Let's go on a bit further."

Trina nodded mutely, a small twinge of despondency coming over her. He doesn't want me again yet, she thought miserably. He's afraid to take me back to bed and fail, and that's why we're wandering through the hills this way, She walked after him without question, figuring that it was she who would now have to show patience and understanding, and again promising she'd try harder when the next chance arose. She caught up with him as they strolled through the thickly aromatic pines, and, pressing her hand into his, she brushed her nubile body against his often in the cool, dim woods. The gentle caress of knee-high grass and wildflowers against her bare legs felt comforting to her, though, and the bright songs of the birds clustered in the trees overhead added to her naturally buoyant spirits. Every few minutes, she would catch the rustle of some darting small animal, or the scratching of a chipmunk as it clawed up the bark of a fir. It was as if she were entirely alone with Brian in a world of peace and tranquility, and, as she continued walking, the distraught young bride began feeling a little more relaxed and calm. Soon they neared a small, secluded glade, sheltered by tall trees and thick, lush foliage. The ground was covered with spongy moss, and she could hear the trickling of a stream off to one side. They worked their way a little closer through the shadows of the trees, and, just before they were going to step out into the clearing, they heard another sound. With Brian's hand holding her back, Trina leaned forward, puzzled. They were the oddest noises she'd ever heard in her life! They didn't sound like they were from a large, wild beast, for they were sighs and groans that seemed more human than animal!

Then, "Oooohhh shit! You suck like Aphrodite!"

Trina froze, her mind, so full of happiness, torn asunder by the crude obscenities she'd just heard. Her face contorted with confusion, and she turned to her husband, her breath choking in her throat as she asked him, "Wha-What was that?"

"I don't know!" Brian lied, knowing full well what it was. He hadn't tracked Verna and Mike halfway to Nevada for nothing! "It sounded like a man," he continued, trying to act perplexed. "It sounded almost like, like Mike!"

"My brother? No, it can't be!"

Her protests were cut short by the sounds of more lewd words, this time muffled and from a woman's lips. Trina couldn't believe it, but the voice sounded exactly like Verna's!

"I love it! Yes, yes, I love the taste of your prick! Mmmmm!"

Trina was almost pulled off her feet by the prodding Brian Sandford. She wanted to run, to flee from what her senses told her was an impossibility - but yet an all too real reality. She felt like the heroine in a cheap Hollywood horror movie, about to open the squeaky attic door and let the monster loose. She tried to stall, to dig her heels into the ground, but the earth was too soft and her husband's strength too much. They rounded a few more trees and slipped quietly through a growth of tall brush, the moans of passion becoming more distinct.

"You like having a blow job, don't you, Mike?"

"God Almighty, yes! I love it! So sweet, so sweet!"

There was silence for a moment, and Trina heard the rustlings of bodies upon a sheet or blanket as the man - no longer just a man, but her brother Mike! - moaned and sighed with his burgeoning delight.

"Look!" Brian suddenly hissed in her shocked ear. "Look over there, by the creek!"

Trina took one quick glimpse, and abruptly she felt as if she would scream. Instead, she raised the back of her hand to her lips in convulsive horror and swallowed heavily. "Oh, no!" she gasped behind her covering hand. "I don't believe it!"

What she had seen was her twin brother Mike lying spread-eagled on a large blanket, completely naked, rolling his blond head in ecstasy while Verna knelt between his legs. The curvaceous black-haired bride was as unclothed as he, and she was moistly running her oval mouth up and down over Mike's thick, jutting penis, her expression that of a woman possessed.

Trina leaned against a tree trunk, unable to move. "I, I simply can't believe it!" she gasped again.

Brian chuckled quietly and folded his arms across his chest. "Christ, Trina, it's plain to see. They're making love!"

The young girl tried to blot out the perverted scene in front of her. Dear Lord! That wasn't making love - what they were doing was unnatural, sinful and depraved act! Mike knew that, he'd been raised properly, but there he was, how could he be, how could her twin brother be, be? She couldn't even find the words to express the horrid view! Then Trina realized that Brian was speaking again. She wrenched her mind to what he was saying, asking, "What? What was that?"

"I said, isn't it a wild thing to watch?"

She twisted her head to stare at her husband, not sure she could believe what she'd heard him utter, or the grinning, hot-eyed expression she now saw on his face. "You don't mean that you approve of what Mike and Verna are doing, do you?" she blurted out incredulously. "They're, like animals!"

"Don't be too sure about that, rosebud!"

"It's awful! They've gone crazy!"

"Who can tell what should or shouldn't be done in passion? It's a very strong emotion. Everybody needs passion to make themselves happy, don't they? Isn't that what you've been telling me today? To make the person you love happy?"

"Y-Yes," she agreed hesitantly. "But doing, doing such a wicked act can't be a part of such happiness!"

"No? Take a good look at my sister and your brother. I think our twins are making each other very happy!"

Trina felt confused and bewildered, and, even though she felt that she was right, she wasn't in any condition to be arguing morality. She blinked heavily, trying to clear her mind of blurred thoughts, thoughts of the previous night and her unwilling initiation into sexual practices, and of her promises today that she'd learn how to be a woman. Did it take such evil acts to please a man? No, it couldn't! It was sinful just to consider such perversions, much besides lower oneself to perform them. Or as it? Trina seriously began questioning her frozen values, wondering if she was incapable of ever knowing what a man wanted or required. What was sex? Brian had taken her in the normal way last night, but it had left her cold and frightened. Where was the fire she assumed should come! Was it really the brutal coupling she'd experienced and it would never get better for her - or was it this untamed lust that drove people mad like she was witnessing now? The thought raced through her shattered mind - what would it feel like to be so passionate - what should it be like?

"We can make love that way," Brian said softly, dropping his hand gently on her quivering shoulder. "I can teach you."

"No, no, never!" she moaned, squirming from the touch of his brushing fingers. "I won't, I can't! It's wrong!"

She could sense a strange, light-fingered tingling beginning between her thighs, one which she could not understand and instinctively felt guilty about feeling now. They were lewd stirrings like she'd never felt before, and they scared her as they grew stronger and more persistent. She involuntarily pressed her buttocks together, squeezing her thighs tight in an effort to quiet the mysterious sensations.

"Look at them," Brian said, pulling her closer to him. "Verna's enjoying it, and so is your brother. Aren't they?"

"Yes, yes they are," she breathed, her eyes locking against her will on Mike with his legs wide apart and his enormous cock sunk all the way up into Brian's sister's clasping mouth. She could see clearly his glistening thick shaft disappearing into the softly rounded lips of Verna's face. It was almost swallowed to the hilt, only a tiny stretch of it left showing, wet and quivering. His bride's expression was contorted into the most depraved portrait of ecstasy Trina could ever have imagined. God, how Verna