Skin-deep Scandal
(M+/F+, cheat, swap, size)

by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.org

Paul Maxwell felt relieved as he finally began to free himself from the clutches of the artificial redhead who chattered mindlessly at him in a secluded corner of the smoky, half-lit room. He sensed the girl making one last attempt to catch his attention, as she punctuated a particularly inane remark by leaning her empty head up against his shoulder in a tipsy parody of suggestiveness, smiling up at him with a naiveté as transparent as the watery drink she was holding in her hand. Paul pivoted expertly, caught her free arm in his, and maneuvered her effortlessly to a small sofa, where he'd spotted a small, quiet, mousy man sitting silently alone with a glass of untasted ginger ale clasped tightly in both hands Paul hurried through an informal introduction, not knowing either of their names, and then turned back to the party leaving them already engrossed in a vigorous smiling, one-sided conversation.

Moving his tall, handsomely built body through the strident jumble of cocktail conversation, Paul made his way once more to the bar, stopping along the way to pick up another odorless, tasteless cheese thing from a tray filled with unimaginative snacks. He was famished. There was nothing worse than coming to a party expecting dinner, only to find that there was none. It took a particular kind of host to invite people at 7p in the evening and ignore the fact that they just might possibly think the early hour indicated dinner, and Oliver Lewis was just such a host. Paul poured himself out another drink, passed a hand through his dark, styled hair, and wondered why the hell he'd come in the first place.

He spotted his wife, Marie, through the maze of lighted cigarettes and clinking glasses, standing across the room in conversation with a short, balding man. Paul could see her forcing her smiles, and nodding her head in response to his undoubtedly boring conversation, and he smiled to himself as he wondered just what purpose this kind of party had, except to allow a group of dull people to infect their friends with the emptiness of their own lives.

He noticed that Marie had caught him looking at her' and saw the plea to come and save her written all over her face. He smiled and waved teasingly at her, and then made his way through the crowded room to her. As he approached, he could hear the balding man saying something about what a wonderful time he and his wife had had the year before she'd died, touring the ancient Aztec ruins of central America.

"Oh darling," said Marie, interrupting her tormentor gratefully, "I'd like you to meet Mr.-?" She turned to the short man questioningly.

"Larsen is the name, Nils Larsen. I'm Norwegian." And he stuck out a small, pudgy hand.

"Well, I thought I saw: something of the Viking in you Mr. Larsen. I'm Paul Maxwell." Paul took the preferred hand, felt it rest limply in his grip for a moment, and then restored it to its owner.

"I was just telling your lovely wife about the magnificence of some of the old, pre-Columbian American Indian civilizations, Mr. Maxwell."

"That sounds fascinating, Mr. Larsen. In fact, I've always thought there were valuable lessons to be learned from old, pre-Columbian American Indian civilizations." Paul stumbled over the words. ", but I hope you don't mind if I spirit my wife away from you for a few moments, I've got an old friend over here she's just got to meet."

"Not at all, sir, not at all," the little man beamed. "I'm privileged to have been able to converse with the lovely lady for as long as I have."

"You're so right, Mr. Larsen," Paul said, guiding Marie around him towards the other end of the room. "I promise we'll get back together before the evening's over. How's that?"

"Splendid, sir, splendid! I shall look forward to it!"

"Thank you Mr. Larsen, for your little lecture," Marie tossed back over her shoulder at him.

The pudgy man said nothing, but beamed modestly, and then turned to seek the crowded room for his next victim.

"Oh God," Marie whispered as she made her way with Paul to a far corner of the room, "Torture me, stretch me on the rack, anything but that."

"You mean Mr. Larsen?" Paul teased. "A truly fascinating man, I think. And a Norwegian too. How exotic. You know, he's the first bald Viking I've ever met."

Marie giggled, and passed her smoothly exposed arm around her husband's lean waist. Her long blonde hair ran with carefree abandon down her neck, stretching itself out to the small of her sensuous, voluptuously formed back. She was a full head shorter than her husband, and as they crossed the crowded room, looked like a college cheerleader out on a date with the football team's star end. Her youthfully alive body belied her 28 years, and with her husband they made an exciting, beautifully exuberant couple. They loved each other with the same delightful abandon that had marked their earlier dating years, and it contrasted sharply with the tired, dull faces of the other couples at the party.

Just then, one of the couples they'd been introduced to at the beginning of the evening, Dick and Della Green, made their way over to them. Dick Green was of medium height, and fairly heavy set, but had the build of a former athlete who still managed to keep in shape. He had dark, intelligent eyes, and a broad, friendly, contagious smile that complemented his easy-going manner. He was carrying a half-finished glass of beer in one hand. His wife, Della, was tall and lithe with raven black hair and a pair of luminescent, green eyes. She wore a tightly clinging red dress which hugged and caressed her slender, high-breasted body, and accentuated the easy, sensual sway of her tightly mooned buttocks. As they approached, Paul's mind immediately and unconsciously pictured her as the archetypal seething seductress, the kind of woman who, at one time or another, manages to occupy the dreams of every man.

"Hello there, Maxwell," Dick Green said heartily as they came up. "Rotten party isn't it?"

"Do you want the truth?" Paul answered, returning Dick's smile.

"The whole truth, but keep it clean."

"Well, it's not only rotten, it's tortuous."

Dick laughed aloud, and hugged his beautiful wife closer to him, gazing at the same time at Marie Maxwell's curvaceous body with unabashed admiration.

"Della was just saying mat if this disaster was any duller, we'd have to send out for the morticians." He laughed with infectious amusement.

"Well, I wish we could send out for the caterers," Marie moaned. "We thought it was for dinner, and we're about to starve to death."

"Oh no, that's too much," Della Green said in a low, almost breathy voice, "Not you too!"

Paul and Marie looked at each other in surprise.

"You mean you two thought." Paul asked.

"Of course!" Della laughed. "Who gives a party at 7:00 without food. We've been hovering like vultures over the snack bar just trying to keep our stomachs from turning inside out. I don't think I ever want to see another, whatever they are, those awful cheese cracker olive things."

"Well, at least they're better than the green pepper cream cheese things!" Dick laughed out loud. And the four of them began to giggle uncontrollably with their private joke, trying to suppress their mirth unsuccessfully until a few other couples around them began staring and wondering what was so funny.

"Shhhh." Marie managed through the tears that were forming in her eyes, "People are looking."

"What the hell, honey' they're probably as hungry as we are," Paul whispered, and they all convulsed again.

Finally they quieted down, and after talking awhile longer, agreed to leave the party and go together to find something to still the growlings in their stomachs. It was only nine, but they could always say they were coming back. They agreed to meet out by their cars, and separately made their way across the room to find their host. Paul and Marie carefully avoided one corner where the bald Viking was entertaining some particularly ugly wallflowers with a description of Scandinavia as it must have been in the time of Eric the Red. The host was found, Paul and Marie thanked him warmly for the wonderful party, and then fled gratefully out into the cool summer night. They waited for a few moments, until Dick and Della Green joined them and then, giggling again, piled into their cars. Paul and Marie followed the Greens, and laughed as they pulled into the first diner they came to, a rather dirty looking greasy spoon.

"It may not look like much," yelled Dick Green as they climbed out of their cars, "but it's better than olives and cream cheese."

They made their way into the diner, which wasn't as bad inside as it had seemed outside, and ordered the ribeye steak all around. They settled down in their booth with four tall glasses of beer, and the men loosened their ties.

"Well," Dick said raising his glass of beer, "here's a toast. Let's all drink to, the S.T.E.D.A.B.P."

They all laughed, raised their glasses high in mock salute, and drank long and hard. Marie finished first, and turned her head to Dick.

"What's the S.T.D.P,. whatever it was," she asked innocently.

"Wait a minute, let me get it again its, the, S.T.E.D.A.B.P. The Society to Eradicate Dull And Boring Parties." Dick answered and they all laughed again. The beers were quickly finished, and they ordered another round.

"Tell me Paul," Della said, her smoldering eyes resting on him in a way that made his heart imperceptibly quicken its pace, "how did you get invited to this evening's abortion?"

"Ollie Lewis is one of my many bosses," Paul answered, putting his: arm around his wife's small waist. "I guess he just felt like being democratic."

"One of your many bosses?" Dick echoed. "What kind of work do you do, Paul?"

"Well, that's kind of hard to say," Paul chuckled. "I'm sort of a free-lance dabbler in the arts. I write a small syndicated column about artsy things in the area."

"Oh, darling, you make it sound so casual," Marie broke in, and went on to explain, "He writes for four or five newspapers and a couple of magazines, you know, art criticism and film reviews, that kind of think. He just got back today, as a matter of fact, from an assignment in Hollywood."

"Really?" breathed Della. "What were you doing down there, Paul?"

"Oh, nothing much really. Martin Epstein, the film director, had an interior set he had to make look like a l9th century art gallery, and he needed some help making it look authentic, you know, so that all the paintings and sculpture and things were in keeping with the times and the tastes of the people involved. It was much duller than it sounds, though."

"Well, it doesn't sound dull at all to me," Dick said. "It sure beats working in a bank."

"Dick's vice-president of the City National Bank," Della explained, straightening her delicious, high breasted body proudly.

"One of many vice-presidents," Dick added. "It's even duller than it sounds."

"Well, I don't think it sounds dull at all," Marie interjected. "Just think of working with all that money!" They all laughed.

"Della's something of an artist herself," Dick said.

"Oh, really? What kind of work do you do?" Paul asked her.

"Mainly oils," the dark-eyed woman answered. "But it's all strictly amateur. I don't really have much confidence in it."

"Well, you should," her husband asserted. "I think it's fine stuff, and she just goes around all the time bad-mouthing it. You ought to get Paul out to see it sometime, dear, I'm sure he'd be able to convince you it's pretty damn good." Paul and Marie didn't catch the look that passed between the Greens.

Their steaks arrived, and all four of them looked doubtfully at the dry, tough slices of meat. Paul asked for ketchup, and they began to bravely attack the leather-like slabs.

"I think it's fighting back," Dick chuckled as his knife finally managed to saw through his steak, and they all laughed.

After they'd finished, and paid their bill, they went outside into the freshness of the summer night, and stood by their parked cars saying goodnight.

"Well, I guess even the party was worth the chance to meet you folks," Dick said, again smiling his personal, contagious smile.

"We feel the same way," Marie answered, "Don't we, dear?"

Paul nodded his head, and turned to smile warmly at Dick's seductive wife.

"We'll have to get together again sometime," he said, "maybe under slightly more convivial circumstances."

"That's a deal," Della smiled invitingly. "Maybe I can talk you into coming over sometime and taking a look at some of my little scribblings, I mean my paintings."

"I'd love to," Dick smiled at her, "Why don't you call me sometime and arrange it."

"All right, but that's a promise. No backing out. And you've got to promise to say nice things."

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

They all laughed once more, said goodnight, and climbed into their cars. With a final wave, Dick and Della sped out of the parking lot, and disappeared down the unlighted street.

Paul turned to his wife, and kissed her warmly. "I like the Greens. They're good people."

"Mmmm, I think so too. But you're nicer."

"And you're a little tipsy."

"Well," Marie smiled into his face, "You're not mister cold sober yourself."

Now that she mentioned it, Paul did feel quite high from all the party drinks and the three beers they'd had with dinner. He turned to his wife and caressed her suggestively around the smoothly rounded mound of her breasts.

"I guess I'm not. What do you say we go on home and fall into a nice warm bed, mmmm?"

"I bet that's been on your mind all evening," Marie chided, almost properly.

"After a week by myself in Hollywood," Paul grinned, "You bet it has."

"Oh, you're just an animal," she said softly, teasingly, but there was a light trace of reproach in her voice.

"You bet I am, honey, you bet I am!" he said fervently.

"I'm going to fuck Marie Maxwell," Dick Green said, "And you, my dear, are going to help me do it."

Della smiled, stretching languorously on the front seat of the car, as they sped home through the darkened streets. "Of course, darling," she answered. "After all, Paul Maxwell is a handsome and desirable man, I'm going to enjoy getting laid by him just as much as you're going to enjoy fucking the lovely Mrs. Maxwell."

"Goddamn, but you're the hottest woman I ever knew," Dick said with some pride. "You just love cock, don't you, baby?"

"Just like you love pussy, sweetheart."

Dick reached out and put a hand on her firmly curved thigh, just at the point where the red dress rode high on her lap. He began to stroke the feathery surface lightly. She slid over next to him and, without a word, laid the palm of her slim hand on the crotch of his slacks. His penis, already aroused from the lewd conversation, began growing even harder as he felt her light touch through his trousers.

"Mmmmmmm, little Dickie's ready, isn't he?" she said in a seductive voice.

"He's always ready," he chuckled. "Just like his wife's sweet little cunt."

"How convenient, dear. How very convenient," Della murmured, beginning to lightly stroke his long hard cock with her palm while his hand moved higher along her smooth warm thigh. "But how do you plan to make the Flemings ready, darling? They don't strike me as swingers at all."

"No, they're not. That's what makes them such attractive prospects," Dick answered her. "But I've got a plan I think might work."

"What's that, dear?"

"I'll tell you when we get home."

"Oh, but sweetheart, I want to know," Della said, and her fingers found the zipper of his fly and worked it down deftly. The throbbing length of his huge rod pushed the thin folds of his underpants out through the fly opening, straining for escape. But Della kept it imprisoned inside, stroking the rigidly pulsing flesh with knowledgeable fingers; she knew how to torment a man in many ways: by touch, by word, by manipulation of her own voluptuously ripened body. Dick was breathing faster under her tantalizing caresses, and Della shivered with anticipation. She could feel her impatiently twitching cunt begin to seep warm, moist fluid, soaking the thin silk of her panty briefs as she ground her smooth round buttocks down against the leather of the seat. "Tell me the plan, babe," she said softly, seductively.

"We're, ohhhh, almost home!" Dick panted. "Damn you!" Her expertly moving hand was rubbing in little circles over his heatedly straining cock now, using the material of his underpants to taunt and rub the blood-engorged glans into near-explosion. His own hand went higher along her sleek inner thigh, and his fingers found the warm dampness of her panties. He wormed his outstretched middle finger inside the elastic leg band, dipping the fingertip into the slippery juices of her hotly throbbing vagina, causing a low, soft moan of sheer animalistic pleasure to escape her throat. '`How do you like that, you little prick-teaser?" he hissed breathlessly.

"Ohhhhh babe!"

The bank vice-president's middle finger deep into the warmly clasping pussy while his forefinger found the quivering miniature phallus of her aroused little clit; he began thrusting and caressing with provocative slowness back and forth until she was grinding her hips faster and faster down against the seat, her loins hungrily surging upward against his fingers as if trying to beckon both of them deep inside her heatedly palpitating vaginal cavity. "You'll wait until we get home, won't you, baby?" Dick whispered.

"Aaaaaggghhh, hhmmmmmmmm!" she groaned. "Yesssss, I'll waitttttttttt! But drive faster!"

Dick grinned triumphantly, eased his finger away from her warmly perfumed cunt, and let his hand rest on her gently trembling thigh. She allowed her fingers to remain on his still-hardened cock, but they weren't moving now; her eyes were closed as she leaned against him, letting the exotically exciting sensations his probing finger had caused ripple deliciously through her entire body.

It wasn't long before the headlights of their car picked out their rambling ranch style home from the other luxurious houses along Oro Canyon Road. Dick pulled the car up in front of the double front doors, cut the engine, and shut off the lights. He got out of the car, managed to close his fly over the still pulsating hugeness of his erect penis, and walked stiffly around the car to help his wife out.

"How about a little drink, baby?"

"You're on," Della winked up at him, and eased her lushly seductive body out of the car. "And then you'll tell me how we're going to get the Flemings to pay ball, right?"

"I might, baby, if you're nice to me."

Della closed the car door behind her, and brazenly pressed her full ripe breasts up against her husband.

"Aren't I always nice to you, sweetheart?"

Dick smiled, and ran his lips teasingly over his wife's partially opened mouth. Then he led her into their sprawling home and switched on the lights in the expensively furnished living room, before making his way to the impressive, well-stocked bar at one end.

"Scotch all right?" he called to her as she disappeared down the hallway to their bedroom.

"And no ice," she called back, turning on the lights in the very large, almost palatial bedroom.

Dick finished making their drinks, and followed his wife down the hall where he discovered Della undoing the two buttons on the front of her dress. Then slowly, seductively, she used her palms and rhythmically undulated her ripe young body to slide the garment down along her body until it lay puddled at her feet. Her green eyes were heavily lidded, smoky, and she watched his face intently as she stripped. She stood there, dressed now only in brassiere and panties. Tantalizingly, like an exotic dancer practicing her art, she reached behind her and unhooked the brassiere fastenings, slowly pulling it away from her firm white breasts, making sure that the aroused, puffy nipples were the last to meet his hot, hungry eyes. She held the brassiere out at arm's length to cup her full, fleshy mounds, kneading them as a babe would. Finally, she dropped her fingers to her panties and slowly worked them down over her long, tapering legs until she was standing before him completely naked.

"Like it, babe?" she purred throatily.

"Christ, you're like a goddamned whore when you get in the bedroom!" Dick groaned, but he wasn't castigating her for it. Hell, he wouldn't have had it any other way. His eyes roamed over her sensual, well-tanned body, and came to rest on the fleecy down framing the wet, pink folds of her cunt. She was something else, all right; in all the time they had been married, he had never had a woman who pleased him any more than she did - a few had come close, but none had ever surpassed her. And that was one hell of a compliment, considering the number of women Dick Green had had in that time.

Della reveled in his lustful gaze for a long moment, then she stepped over to the king-sized, double bed and lay down on the satin spread, spreading her legs wide in a wanton invitation, exposing the naked, wetly palpitating opening of her cuntal passage. She rotated her hips lewdly against the satin spread, arching them up and lowering them again in a measured, intoxicating way. "Aren't you going to get naked, baby?" she asked in a husky voice.

"Goddamn right I am!" Dick said. Quickly, he undressed and yanked his underpants down. He stood there with his great, pulsating cock standing out from his groin, the unseeing eye in the glans oozing thin, clear droplets of arousal. Della stared hungrily at it, moistening her wetly parted lips with her tongue as if already tasting the seeping fluid in the warm sucking caverns of her mouth.

"Come on," she urged. "Lie down beside Mommy."

"And what's Mommy going to do then?"

"Mommy's going to take that big lovely old cock of yours and suck every last little drop of hot cum right out of it," Della whispered lewdly up at him.

Damn! Dick thought. She really knows how to get a guy heated up, talking that way, using words like she used her body, fucking you verbally if such a thing were possible. His rigidly thick cock quivered and throbbed in anticipation. But first, he owed her a little teasing for what she had done to him in the car on the way home, before he took her up on her offer to blow him. He sat on the edge of the bed, next to her, close enough to allow her hand to snake out and encircle his eagerly jerking penis. She immediately began to stroke and massage the turgid length, rubbing the skin back and forth, before slipping her hand underneath to cup and caress his sperm-laden balls, cradling their heavy softness in her palm.

He stifled a small groan of pleasure, and then reached down and removed her hand. "First things first," he said.

"What do you mean, babe?"

"You wanted to hear my plan, didn't you?"

"Oh, daddy! Tell me afterwards!"

"No, I'm going to tell you now. You were anxious enough to hear about it earlier."

She returned her hand to his massively throbbing cock and testicles, rubbing, caressing. "Please, baby," she crooned. "I'm hot now, and I want to suck you. Come on, let Mommy suck you now, and then you can tell me all about your plan."

"No," Dick said, mentally laughing at being able to play it cool at a time like this. He moved down to the foot of the bed, looking up at her, watching her impatiently undulating her hips, her tongue still flicking along her lips, her eyes resting hotly on the huge, granite-hard expanse of his penis and at the wrinkled sac of his sperm-bloated balls. "Now the way I figure it, Paul Maxwell is the one to work on first. He's a man, and therefore he's more susceptible than Marie."

"So you plan to get to her through him," Della said. She stretched out her leg full-length frowning a little petulantly, and began to stroke his naked thigh with her foot, wiggling her big toe upward to touch the rigid hot flesh of his cock until he reluctantly pushed her leg away and continued.

"That's right. Now I think we've got the answer on how to do it from what Paul promised you tonight about coming over and seeing some of your paintings."

Della lowered her hand and began to lightly stroke her belly with her fingertips, teasing the feathery softness of her pubic mound, then trailing lower down between her legs so that she was rubbing in a slow, even tempo the warm moistness of her cuntal mouth. She teased her erect little clit, knowing that Dick became even more aroused from watching her. She knew that he really enjoyed watching her play with herself, and she was so hot for his hard pulsating cock now that she was pulling out all stops to get him to stop talking.

Dick opened his mouth to continue and then swallowed hard at the sight of his wife boldly fingerfucking herself, thrusting her outstretched middle finger in and out of her wetly glistening vagina with deft strokes. As she did so, she pushed her gleaming white buttocks down farther on the bed, coming nearer to him, and this time he didn't pull away! Her hand seized his wildly throbbing cock again and began to stroke it; then, before he was able to fend her off, she rose up and pressed her nakedly ripe body against his, forcing him back into a prone position across the width of the satin bedspread.

"Damn it, Della, I'm trying to tell you about-" he began, but then he stopped as his wife began to trail her softly moist lips along the side of his neck, into the hollow of his throat, and down his hairy chest. She nuzzled the rigid buds of his nipples, rolling her tongue back and forth across one, and then let her mouth roam down across the girth of his well-muscled belly. He groaned at the stimulations her warmly wet lips were sending through his body and thrust his hips down hard against the bed. Her fingernails scratched lightly over his eagerly beating cock now, over his testicles, reached under his naked body to probe briefly at the tightly puckered ring of his ass, and then retraced their path back to his rigidly quivering penis.

"The plan..." Dick began weakly.

"Oh, come on, baby! I know what the plan is," Della whispered to him as she continued her expert caressing of his now fully aroused penile shaft. "Paul Maxwell comes out here to look at my paintings, only we don't look at my paintings, and then you get to Marie Maxwell while we're, uhh, preoccupied with discussion of art. Right?" Her full moistened lips brushed maddeningly against the lust-swollen head of his cock as if punctuating her statement.

"Yeah," Dick breathed heavily, hardly able to keep himself from ramming his massively pulsating shaft into Della's wickedly beckoning mouth. "But don't you want to know how I'm going to get to Marie Maxwell?"

"That's your problem, dear. I'm sure you'll think of something." And with that, Della put an end to all conversation for the time being, as she closed her wetly ovaled lips around the turgid length of her husband's quivering cock, forcing an intense sigh of pleasure from his lips, and causing his eyes to roll behind his half closed lids. With a sudden rush, Dick's thoughts left the plans he had been busy making all evening and centered now only on the desire to empty his sperm-filled, wildly throbbing balls into the soft warm cavern of his wife's eagerly sucking mouth.

"Weren't the Greens nice?" Marie said again, as she and Paul walked into the bedroom of their small, but tastefully furnished home. "I was certainly glad to meet them."

"Saved the night, that's for sure," Paul agreed. He sat down on the bed and removed his shoes, rubbing his feet. "If it hadn't been for them, I would have climbed the walls. There's simply no reason to put up with people you don't like, and I always feel like an absolute fool when I do anyway." Paul chided himself. "Why the hell do we go to these things? I never seem to learn." Paul felt the alcohol he had drunk that night rise in him along with his exasperation, making him slightly dizzy and off-balance.

"Undo me, will you dear?"

Paul reached over and unzipped his wife's dress unsteadily, and then watched lovingly as she shrugged her shoulders and the garment slowly slid down the long beautiful curve of her torso. He reached down the length of her shapely legs and playfully brought his hand up inside her half slip, pushing the hem up abruptly before she had time to resist.

"Ohhhhhh!" Marie exclaimed, jumping forward from the electric contact of his fingertips. She was ultra sensitive along the softness of her inner thighs, especially in that nakedly smooth place above the tops of her nylons. "Oh, stop it, Paul, that tickles."

Paul frowned slightly, and sat again on the bed. He detected a note of reproach in her voice, a note he had heard often in their married years. He knew his wife enjoyed sex and being aroused, but it was almost as though she didn't want to admit that fact to herself. He continued to stroke her long tapered legs, moving his hand up to tantalize the pubic mound so provocatively prominent under the silk crotch band of her panties. She wiggled her ripe flaring hips as if in protest, but didn't step away.

"Ohhhhhh, Paul. Oh darling! I love you so much!" Marie turned suddenly, almost as if to escape the maddening caress of his fingers, and flung herself at her husband, pinning him to the bed. She kissed him hard as they embraced passionately.

How lucky I am, Marie thought to herself. Landing Paul for a husband was a coup d'etat of the first order. She must have been courted by at least eleven other men, and he had been constantly surrounded by other women, yet somehow she had won him away from all the other girls. He was going to be a success, she had implicit faith in that. He was confident of his writing skill, and his art columns had been nationally recognized as the work of a talented writer and critic.

And she was important to him. He had told her so, many times, and she made herself reaffirm the promise to herself that she would do all in her power to help him and become a partner in his success. This key element to their marriage made her love him all the more. Of course, he was so wrapped up in his work that it seemed that they weren't as close as they used to be, and in the evenings, he was often so tired and frustrated that they hadn't made love as many times as before, and this worried her. Not that she needed it so very much, oh, she did, but not as often as a man does, but because Paul didn't seem to respond as much as he used to.

A slight spark of worry crossed Marie's mind as she hugged and kissed her husband. Was the magic going out of their marriage? Had the excitement of their sex life lost its luster, and Paul become bored with her? He didn't seem to be bored now, not with his heated lips pressed so tightly to hers, or his quiet moaning from deep within his throat as his arousal became stronger, or the hard throbbing lump of his rising penis as it stretched against her leg. She was being foolish, she concluded. He loved her more than ever.

Paul turned his head and smiled at his young wife. She returned his smile coyly, and his hands slid along her sides and then cupped the tightly clenched alabaster mounds of her buttocks. He moved his fingers higher, connecting with the tight elastic band of her panties, running his hands along the warm satiny skin. She squirmed beneath his touch, then let her loins ease timidly up into his hardening penis only for a moment.

Then, without warning, she stood up, almost businesslike, arched her back and unsnapped her brassiere. The white cups fell from her breasts like petals from ivory rose buds, and she stood for a moment with the ruby tips pointing at her panting husband. Then she hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband of her panties and half slip, and removed them in one easy, graceful motion, throwing them on the dresser beside her. Without a word she lay down beside him, stretching nakedly out along the king-sized bed, spreading her limbs.

Damn! Paul thought, turning to stare at her beauty, there's no other woman like hers and she looks just as beautiful now as yesterday or last week or last year. She was a seductive woman, no denying that, and his breath sucked in from the sudden excitement of the abandoned pose she had taken. And yet there was something that bothered him, a slight doubt in the back of his mind that made him wonder if her smoothly graceful movements were spontaneous or somehow performed almost dutifully.

He raised himself on one elbow and gazed with fascination at the wellrounded, almost sculpted curves of succulent flesh next to him. Marie lay back against the pillow, her long lithe legs moving up and down, her toes digging into the spread, lashes shadowing her cheeks as she closed her eyes. She squirmed her smoothly rounded buttocks down into the mattress, aware of the licentious effect her actions were having on her husband, enjoying the seductive exhibition of her body and the secret satisfaction of the power she held over him.

Paul didn't waste any more time but yanked at his clothes, not even bothering to get off the bed, tearing one of the buttons off his shirt in his haste to make himself naked with his deliciously inviting wife. It took him only a moment, and then he rolled to a kneeling position on the bed and looked down at Marie's nakedly enticing form. His thick, blood enriched penis throbbed and beat out in front of him like a second heart.

"I'm ready, baby, ready right now," he grinned down at her. He roamed his hands over her, playing with the soft warm firmness of her thighs and breasts, stopping once to tweak her rubied nipples into rock-hard firmness before running an outstretched finger down the shadowy valley between her full, high set white breasts. She squirmed slightly, her face round and cherubic, with an air of innocence about it. He felt his groin abruptly draw in with a hot hungry need. It was like making love to a virgin every time, like arousing the woman in a girl and seeing the passion overcome the natural reluctance of "the first time." Marie's long silken hair hung over her shoulders and curled across her ripe budded breasts. Between her widespread legs, which were shaped by a master craftsman, he could see clearly the soft pubic down which coffered her blushing pink vaginal slit. Her cunt glistened wetly in the light, her sexual excitement secreting droplets which formed like honeyed dew on the pubic hair up between her thighs. Paul chided himself for his doubts about her willingness to have sex with him. The warmly gleaming furrow between her legs showed without doubt that she wanted him and wanted him now!

He leaned forward, unable to control himself any longer, and he crushed his hungry mouth against her warmly pulsating vagina, trying to suck up every sweet flowing drop of her pussy juices, brushing his tongue against her wetly quivering cuntal lips with yearning heat. Marie moaned, but brought her thighs up sharply to stop him.

"No, no, not that, Paul! You know I don't like you to kiss me there. No, please stop, please stop, please!" Her arms encircled his head and pulled him upward along her naked young body toward her warm pliant mouth, opened wide with desire. "Kiss me on the lips, darling," she whispered, "Not down there."

Paul didn't resist. He allowed himself to be moved up the length of his wife's lushly ripened body and ground his lips onto hers. There it was again, the one flaw in an otherwise wonderful relationship! He had tried for all the time they had been sleeping together to show her the intense erotic arousal coming from his lips against her cunt, her mouth around his penis. He had been blown by other girls many times in the past, before Marie and he were married. He wanted her to do the same to him to see her head roll from side to side as he tongued the heated pulsating velvet-like insides of her cuntal lips. He could shut his eyes and imagine that butter soft mouth of hers as it sawed rhythmically around his wildly jerking cock, and the very thought made him tense his loins, even as he kissed his wife on her warm wet mouth. He wanted to cum inside her there, to spurt his white hot sperm into her throat as he had into other's throats, and hear her mewling and crooning with the desire of love as he did so.

And he wanted to make her reach a climax by taking her erect little clit between his teeth and holding it tightly as he ran his tongue tip around and around her vagina, until at last he plunged his tongue deep into the sweetly clasping cavern of her pussy, to soak up the secretions, to stab and dart in oral fucking just as he was now moving his tongue in and out of her mouth in similar simulation of intercourse.

He held her tight to him and felt her nakedly warm body as it undulated beneath him, her soft belly and pelvis grinding against his anxiously beating penis until it throbbed with a rock-like hardness.

"Oh, baby! Marie moaned. - "Darling, darling, I want you so badly."

"Yes, yes," he managed to reply. One of his legs fell snugly in between her open thighs, and she rubbed her hot, hair protected cunt against him in perfect harmony. He kissed her again, his mouth dry with barbaric thirstiness, and she raised her thigh to press gently in against the throbbing virility of his maleness. His head swam from the alcohol he'd drunk, and his long thick cock seeped with desire from her touch, its tip being massaged by the light brush of her smoothly warm skin. His massively rigid penis jerked, jumping as though it was ready to spew its churning white seminal fluid right now. Once more he drove his tongue into her mouth and she sucked it eagerly, even nibbling it with her sharp little teeth to send new shocks of rippling erotic excitement through him.

The thought of what lay before him, of what would happen when he entered her warmly clasping vagina and began to pound his cock to a fulfilling explosion and flooded his brain. He knew every action, every motion they would make, for it had become a ritual over the years. He was aroused and wanted her, but, but what? What was nagging at the back of his mind? What was wrong with their lovemaking? Was it the sameness? Had he gotten to take her for granted after all this time, and the original thrill he had experienced when she was new to him been replaced by a complacency of familiarity? He loved his wife, but the spice was gone. He lifted his head and lay his cheek against her soft hair.

"Is... there something wrong, Paul?" she whispered.

"What? Oh no, of course not. I was thinking how beautiful you are..." he lied.

His delicious wife began to shiver beneath him, her firm sleek thighs rubbing his loins in what appeared to be hunger. "You want to make love to me, don't you?" she breathed.

"Yes, yes I want to."

"How?" her question was unexpected, and sent an electrifying current through him. It was really something new to hear her ask for a good screwing, but then to want to know how! Yes, change was what was needed, for his eagerly pulsing cock leaped spontaneously with the added dimension.

"Hard!" he replied hoarsely. "Deep and hard, right up to the hilt!"

"Oh, Paul, do it now! I want you inside me, now!" she cried.

He drew her naked young body closer to him and moved one hand down to encase the smooth round buttocks, his hand over the softly yielding crevice which halved them. She glued her mouth to his as she wedged a hand between them and grasped his long fleshy hardness. Paul choked with the cool contact of her fingers around his cock, and he pressed his lips harder against hers to show his appreciation. She strained the full sensual length of her body against him grinding and pushing, and then she spread her legs and thighs wide, almost too casually, and his massively thick eleven-inch penis poised proudly against the snug mouth of her waiting wet cunt, the thin, hair lined archway to her innermost being dilated with the desire for him to enter. She kept firm hold of his bulbous, aching shaft and drew it closer, sliding its hot pulsating head up and down between her open legs, swirling it around her tender pink flesh until its lustexpanded knob rested against her wetly quivering cuntlips.

"There, Paul, right there."

He lunged forward as he drove into her widespread pussy and felt the hot, rubbery passage clasp tightly around his thickened shaft and absorb his naked surge like a hungry lion. The warmly clasping sensation along the length of his pulsating cock drove all thoughts from his mind except to lose his pent-up seed into the depths of her tight little cunt. It was warm and tight in there, as though he had been the first to enter that fevered domain, and the fluids helped her take him easily, wetting and lubricating his path. He thrust lustily until his blood swollen head hit her cervix and simultaneously his sperm bloated testicles crashed resoundingly against the firm, muscle taut cheeks of her ass. He moved harder, flexing his long hard penis as she moaned, embedded beneath his driving cudgel. He ground his pelvis into her savagely, feeling the pliant warm flesh beneath as she strained upward to meet his pounding jerks, until her nakedly writhing loins were inches off the bed. His alcohol-fuzzed mind began to play tricks on him, and he thought he sensed a pulling back on Marie's part, a vague hesitation that made him force his loins down on her with even greater violence. He angled his hips and drove into her brutally, trying to establish a rhythm.

"Ohhhh, darling, wait." Marie called to him, surprised by the force of his attack, "You're hurting me, please."

But Paul didn't hear her. Instead he renewed his vicious onslaught with even greater violence, almost lifting his surprised wife off the bed with each pounding stroke. The delicate tingle of desire deep in Marie's timidly aroused cunt began to fade, rubbed quickly raw by the sudden pile driving strokes of her seemingly transformed husband. Her eyes grew wide in disbelief, and then in pain as she watched him pound into her, not looking at her, his eyes almost glassy, hiding behind half-closed lids. This was a side of her husband she had never seen before, and it frightened her beyond measure.

"Paul, please, stop! It's no good, you're hurting me! Oh God! Please!"

But her pleas only served to increase the tempo of his brutally rampaging rhythm. His wildly throbbing shaft continued to surge like a wild beast until he was sure it was going to split down the seam, and the intoxicating pressure in his sperm bloated balls was enough to send him screaming. Jesus, surely he was going to reach his orgasm soon, for he couldn't hold back much longer! He increased his speed and stroke, drubbing into her savagely as his impatiently churning balls whacked against her upturned, defenseless thighs. His mind was blank, and through his intoxication he was aware only of what he thought were the squirming attempts of the woman under him to evade his powerful thrusts, to rob him of the imminent explosion that was building in his painfully throbbing loins. Each of her attempts to ease the pain of this crazed pounding was met with renewed force, and his hands were now gripping viselike into her frantically quivering buttocks, his body pressing her down cruelly onto the bed. All vestiges of desire had left his cruelly buffeted young wife. Marie lay unmoving, at first confused and then aghast at what she considered the almost Jekyll and Hyde transformation that had come over her loving young husband. Besides the searing pain his maddened thrusts were sending through her loins, a throbbing fear began to play itself through her mind. It was almost as if he were punishing her, but for what? What had she done to be treated so impersonally, like, like a common whore off the streets? Her brain reeled before this humiliation, and tears began to fill her eyes, even as she submitted to the animalistic, unconscious rutting of her husband.

"God, darling!, What's the matter? Please, stop!"

But Paul felt nothing except the mounting sensations of fiery release in his madly fucking penis as it rammed into his wife's helplessly splayed vagina. His brain was empty except for the need to rid his body of the incredible tightness that was threatening to tear him apart inside. Finally he could no longer even feel his hard slamming cock as a separate part of his body, but was only aware of the lustful tension that was straining his taut muscles to the breaking point, driving him wild with the desire to empty himself into the shuddering, unwilling cunt that sucked his painfully full cock deep up into its fiery depths. He slammed on, unaware of the cries of pain that were coming from his wife's tortured lips, not heeding her useless pleadings in his ears. He felt his long hardened shaft on fire as he rubbed too fast, too hard into the tightly clenched opening between his wife's futilely resisting legs. He raised himself up on his elbows to gain even more leverage, and lifted Marie's loins up against his own in mindless, brutal assault, straining his back muscles in an attempt to shove his thick invading cudgel into the farthest reaches of her small, elastic cuntal mouth.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming," he began to chant insanely, tossing his head violently from side to side in rhythm to the merciless beating he was inflicting on the beautiful woman beneath him. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming," his voice was strained and inhuman, his eyes clasped tight, his brain filled only with me insatiable demands of his impending climax.

And then it came, an almost paralytic tensing of his already straining muscles, a spasmodic jerking of his aching loins, and two, four, seven more powerfully punishing thrusts up into the softly waiting receptacle around his heavy raw cock, a deafness to his wife's cries of pain.

"OOOHH, GGGOOODD, I'm... AAAArrrrggghhhh."

Paul almost doubled up with the incredible violence of his release and squeezed his wife's slender frame tight up against his wildly jerking cock as it spewed its full load of scalding white sperm up from the depths of his tortured balls, and sent it coursing through his spasming penis into the cavernous darkness of her hotly. shuddering vagina. He raised his knees up under her buttocks as his climax roared on, lifting her like a warm living doll off the bed, and then pressing down on her again as the violent jerking in his body slowed, only to return with renewed force as his spine felt unimaginable chills moving along them for what seemed an eternity. His emptying balls ached with painful persistency, and he was conscious only of the feeling that he had been sucked completely dry, had nothing more to give, and yet was being sucked even deeper. Gradually, the trembling in his body stilled, and his mind returned from the fireworks world of unconsciousness, where it had been blasted into mindlessness by the brilliance of his all consuming passion, and he rolled off Marie's nakedly limp body and felt the cool air rush over his sweat streaked body.

At first he simply stared at the ceiling, trying to get his bearings, trying to sort out what had happened to him, but he couldn't, so he lay back and closed his eyes. Gradually the outside world began to force its way into his fogged mind, and he suddenly shuddered with the realization of what he'd done. Oh God, he must have been out of his mind! He must have been drunk! Jesus! He had raped his own wife. And she had been screaming for him to stop!

"God, Marie... I'm sorry... I don't know what."

But she wasn't there. Paul turned on the bed to find her gone, and sat bolt upright, guilt twisting his insides in a merciless self-flagellation. What had he done?

He jumped up from the bed, tripped over the sheets that had been tossed wildly onto the floor by the ferocity of his love-making, and made his way to the bathroom that adjoined the bedroom. He tried the door, found that it was locked, and then stood with his head leaning on the door in utter selfrecrimination.

"Marie?"

There was no answer, but from the other side of the door he could hear the muffled sobbing of his humiliated young wife.

"Marie, Christ, I'm sorry, baby. I don't know what came over me, Marie?"

Paul heard the sobs catch in his wife's throat as she attempted to bring herself under control, only to break out anew with heart-rending force.

"Marie?" he called again.

"Go away. Leave me alone."

"Marie, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened. I must have been drunk."

"You're, you're an animal," the sobbing young woman said through the door, "I've never felt so, so humiliated, so filthy, so used in my life."

"Oh baby, please, I'm sorry. Please. I didn't mean to do anything."

He was intercepted by a fresh outburst of pitiful crying from inside the bathroom, and sank to his knees outside the door, his head in his hands. He heard Marie choking on her words as she tried to speak.

"Maybe you didn't mean to, but you did," she cried, "and you did it like I was just some, some prostitute you picked up off the streets somewhere."

"Marie, baby, I love you, you know that."

"Not after tonight I don't, I don't know anything."

Paul noticed a touch of anger coming into his wife's voice now, and it irked him slightly. Maybe if he didn't have to fight all the time to bring a little variety to their sex life, maybe if he wasn't always so frustrated by her goddamn refusal to make love any other way but with the same straight dullness,

"I don't know baby," he said, trying to explain himself, "I just went wild. I guess I thought you were pulling away from me, that you didn't want me, and I guess I just got mad and."

"Didn't want you?" Marie sobbed harshly from the bathroom. "How could you think that? It was beautiful before you started, started pushing into me like some kind of stud bull!"

Paul cringed. She was absolutely right. How could he have been so crazy! He got up from the floor, and went over to the bed and sat down on it, his face a contorted mask of self loathing. He stayed that way for a long while, until he was raised from his reverie by Marie's voice.

"Paul?"

He looked up slowly, and saw his wife's naked young body standing in the open door of the bathroom, her cheeks stained by dried tears, her thighs smeared with the drying waste of his spilled seed. On her face was painted an almost angelic concern. without answering her, he dropped his head once more in his hands, feeling his chest knot up with an unbearable tightness.

"Paul, I'm sorry. I know you didn't mean it. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Paul winced under the soothing gentleness of her words, and wished instead for her voice to lash into him with the punishing effect of a whip.

"Don't, don't apologize to me, baby, I can't take that."

Marie came slowly over to where he sat on the bed, gazed down on his nakedly powerful body with love and compassion, and took his head in her hands. He suddenly threw his arms around her, pressed his face into the smooth cool flesh of her exposed little belly, and tried to squeeze his love into her. She didn't move.

"I think I understand, darling," she said quietly, with infinite forgiveness, "it wasn't you doing it, it was the alcohol, and you were tired from your trip to L.A. We'll just forget about it, like it never happened."

"But it did happen."

"Well, maybe it did," Marie smiled, with almost motherly affection. "But it wasn't on purpose. And I do forgive you." She leaned down and grazed the nape of his neck with her lips, letting her full dangling breasts caress his bowed head.

"Marie, please, don't forgive me too quickly."

For even as his wife's soothing voice calmed him down, reassured him, Paul knew that the passions, the frustrations, that had caused his unforgivable loss of control had not disappeared in the least. Rather, they had grown even stronger, as weeds will when exposed to sunlight and Paul was worried. He knew he would have to talk to his wife one day, one day soon. He would have to make her see that it was her own coolness towards anything but straightforward sex that frustrated him, and that he felt that even then she was sometimes performing in bed rather than enjoying. He would have to tell her that he needed more than a dutiful wife, he needed someone who enjoyed sex for its own sake, he needed a seductress. He would have to tell her soon, but not now, not tonight. Tonight he had to apologize.


Paul Maxwell woke the next morning to the familiar sound of dishes clattering and the smell of cooked bacon. He opened his eyes slowly, saw the late morning sun patterned on the wall opposite the bed, and stretched his sleep stiffened limbs under the rumpled sheets. He yawned his body awake, and then lay still, listening to Marie's movements in the kitchen.

The memories of the night before grated in his mind along with the pain of a slight hangover, and he groaned. What had possessed him? He had tried to make it up to his upset young wife, but nothing had seemed to work, and Marie had steadfastly refused his attempts to make love any further. She had said he was forgiven, but somehow he doubted it. They had fallen asleep on opposite sides of their large double bed, with an uncomfortable silence separating them like a wall.

Paul got up and made his way to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, frowned, and reached for the aspirin in the medicine cabinet. He took two, pulled his bathrobe from the hook behind the door, and wrapped it around his powerful body. With a look at himself he then made his way out of the bathroom towards the kitchen, determined to talk to his wife about the night before, and about the reasons he had acted the way he had. It was time she knew how he felt about what he considered her coolness toward love making, otherwise he knew that, sometime in the future, last night's scene would undoubtedly repeat itself.

Marie turned her lush, fully clothed body to him as he came into the kitchen, and then moved quickly over to the stove where two large eggs were popping and crackling in a hot frying pan.

"Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?" she asked with her back to him.

"Yeah, like a log. I must have been more tired than I thought," he answered her, moving to the small breakfast table.

"Well, it was silly to go out to a party right after you'd stepped off the plane. We should have told the Lewis' we couldn't make it." She scooped up the fried eggs on two inexpensive china plates, added the bacon from where it lay drying on the double folds of paper towel, and brought it to the table with a forced smile on her face. "Like some coffee?"

"Please, no cream."

"Head bothering you?', Marie asked solicitously. Paul nodded, passing a hand in front of his bloodshot eyes, then looked up to where his wife was busying herself pouring coffee and orange juice. Her face was scrubbed and shining, her dress neat and freshly ironed.

"You got dressed early this morning," he said simply.

"Yes, I did. I've got a lot of things to do this morning, and I thought I'd get an early start." She smiled again as she brought the tray with the glasses and set it on the table, seating herself like she was in some restaurant rather than at home. Paul noticed she wasn't letting her eyes rest on his for very long at a time.

"I want to talk about last night, Marie. I think we both ought to."

"Oh, darling, not now. I've really got to gobble this and run. I made an appointment at the hairdressers for 9:30. It was the only time he could fit me in."

Paul remained silent momentarily, watching his beautiful young wife eat her eggs and bacon with studied precision, using her napkin and sipping her coffee as though she were on stage.

"Aren't you hungry, dear? Would you like something else?" she asked him, obviously a little uncomfortable under his gaze.

"I'd like us to talk about last night, Marie. I think it's important, for both of us."

"I think so too. I really do! But it's happened now, and it's over and done with, and it's useless."

"But it's not over and done with just an apology, you know that."

"It is for me. Really." She smiled at him momentarily, and returned to her rapidly disappearing eggs.

Paul paused, then picked up a piece of bacon between two fingers, and bit off one end listlessly. This was no good! She was just trying to cover up, pretend it never happened hoping it might go away. But it wouldn't go away, he knew that.

"Marie, you've got to listen. It's no good being an ostrich about this and sticking our heads in the sand, we've got to find out why last night happened, what the reasons were, so that it won't happen again."

"Oh, dear, we know what the reasons were," she smiled, still maintaining her casual, carefree front, "You were tired from your trip, and we both probably had too much to drink, and it happened, that's all. And it won't happen again because, I love you and you love me, and we won't let it happen again."

"Marie."

"And there is nothing to apologize for. Really and truly. I've forgotten about it already and if you insist on talking about it you'll only make it worse. There's no sense making a mountain out of a molehill."

"What happened last night was no molehill!"

"I've got to run! It's already 9:00. I've got to stop by the cleaners on my way." Marie jumped up from the table, and reached for her purse on the drain board by the refrigerator. Then she came back to where her dejected husband was slumped in his chair, his fork playing frustrated games with his uneaten egg. She leaned down and kissed him long and hard.

"Now look, great big beautiful husband of mine, I love you. You made a mistake, and it wasn't such a big one, and I've already forgotten it." She reached down to cup his unshaven face in her softly cool hands. "Why don't you clean up the breakfast things, and then go back to bed for the morning and rest, and see if you can't forget it. Truly! I am not upset with you."

She pressed her lips against his a second time, ran one hand soothingly along his cheek as she turned and then stepped toward the door.

"Marie?"

"Yes, darling?" she answered, stopping.

"When did you make your hair appointment?"

"This morning. Why?"

"Oh, no reason, I just wondered. I'll see you this afternoon?"

"Yes, about 3p." She paused. "Why did you ask about the hair appointment?"

Paul didn't look up from his plate. "I was just curious, that's all," he said.

Dick and Della Green got up late that morning. They were in good spirits, as they always were after a night as orgiastic as the one before, and as they ate breakfast they solidified their plans for enticing Paul and Marie Maxwell into the trap they had laid for them. Dick didn't leave for the bank until almost 10:30, but that was his prerogative as vice-president, and he made use of it liberally.

After he'd gone, Della cleared up the breakfast dishes, and moved lazily around the house, straightening up, putting fresh sheets on their oversized double bed, gathering flowers from the garden outside and placing them around the house at strategic points. When the scene finally met her approval, she went into the kitchen, lit herself a cigarette, found Paul Maxwell's name in the telephone book, and dialed his number carefully. The phone rang only twice.

"Hello."

"Hello. Is this Paul Maxwell?" Della's voice was even more sultry than usual.

"Yes, it is. Who's this?"

"Della Green. We shared a very bad steak last night after the Lewis' very bad party."

There was no hesitation on the other end of the line.

"Of course! How are you? Say, I was going to call and thank you for making something out of an otherwise disastrous evening."

"Dick and I felt the same way, Paul. I'm not keeping you from working or anything, am I?"

"No, no, not at all. I'm taking the day off."

"Well, lucky you." Della smiled to herself. This was going to be easy. "You're a man after my own heart."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Dick laughed at his end.

Della laughed as well, and then breathed into the phone, "Well, we'll leave that up in the air for now, what do you say?"

"Agreed. How's the painting coming?"

"Oh, it comes and goes, you know. I get discouraged fairly easily, though, and it's hard to keep my mind on it."

"From what Dick said last night, you don't have any reason to be discouraged. Sounds to me like you're suffering from a case of the artist's dumps." Paul laughed.

"Well, that may be. By the way, are you really going to come over and say comforting things about my paintings? You did promise to say nothing but good things last night, didn't you?"

"I did indeed. And I will, nothing but sweetness and honey."

"Well listen, Paul, if you've got the day off, I mean I don't want to be pushy or anything, but what about today? I'll be home all afternoon, and if you don't have anything else to do, I'd like to hear what you think of me."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"I don't know, Della."

"Well, if you've got something else cooking we'll plan it another time."

"No, I don't have anything planned, it's just that Marie is out, and." There was another pause, and Della waited with excitement.

"Oh well." she said, gilding her voice with just the right amount of disappointment.

"I'm sorry, it's just that, oh, what the hell! Of course, I'll come over. My wife won't be back for a while anyway, I'm sure."

"I don't want to pressure you, now, Paul." Della licked her full, luscious lips in anticipation.

"No, you're not, believe me. I'd love to come. Really! What time would be best for you?"

"That's great! Let's see, well as soon as you can is all right with me. I can even feed you a sandwich if you'd like."

"How can I turn down an offer like that? How do I get to your place?"

Della breathed a triumphant sigh, gave Paul the instructions on how to find their home, said good-bye, and hung up the receiver. She finished one last pull on her cigarette, put it out in the ashtray beside her, and sat staring at the phone with a cool, almost calculating smile on her seductive face. She'd thought it would be harder!

She picked up the phone again and dialed another number. There was a pause as she waited for the other end to be picked up.

"Hello, Dick?, It's your lovely, irresistible wife, Ummm, you're sweet too, babe. I just called Paul Maxwell, Ummm? Of course, dear, who could turn down such a delectable creature as yours truly? It's set for this afternoon,. Yes, well I move fast, dear. Do you think you'll be able to put your part of the plan into action?, Sweetheart, do you doubt me? I'll keep him busy 'til next week if I have to, and you know I can, All right, I'll expect you about cocktail hour. But don't interrupt if it looks like we're enjoying ourselves, all right dear, Righto, see you then, babe."

Della hung up the phone and quickly went into her bedroom, changed clothes, put on the kind of perfume she knew from experience turned men wild with its musky scent, checked herself in the mirror, and then went around the house checking out all the little details one last time. She was smoking a cigarette in the living room, with a drink in her hand, when she heard the doorbell ring thirty minutes later. She got up, composed her voluptuously ripe body into its most languid, enticing posture, and glided towards the front door.

"Hi!" she greeted Paul cheerily as she opened the door, "Come on into the artist's lair."

"Sounds very inviting, Della. How are you?" He took her proffered hand, and felt a tingle race up his arm at its delicious coolness. He allowed himself to be led into the living room.

Christ, but she was a beautiful woman! Paul's eyes were glued to his hostess' sensually built body as he followed her, not even trying to remove his hand from hers. She had been provocative last night at the party, but now, this way, she was even sexier. She wore short-shorts of bright orange so tight they clearly outlined her protruding pubic mound and its wide cleft through the fabric between her soft, ivory thighs. Her long tapering legs, bronzed even more than Marie's, were bare and beautiful, and her naked belly was just as tanned between the tight shorts and the orange halter, which barely concealed the nipples of her deliciously mounded breasts from his gaze. Her dark hair fell invitingly over her shoulders, adding to the vivacious effect her sparkling green eyes gave forth. Suddenly, he became aware of the fact that she was looking at him as he devoured her with his eyes, and he smiled weakly. She took a slow sip from her drink.

"What's the matter, Paul? You look, scared." her voice was coy. "I'm not going to eat you."

She laughed, and didn't add the word she was thinking: "Yet."

The young art critic grinned, a little self-consciously, at her as she stood looking up at him with a sultry smile on her face. He could smell a faint, musky perfume, and the heady of the odor made him slightly lightheaded; images of candlelight and soft music flashed briefly through his mind, but he shook them off. Hell, next thing I know I'll be getting romantic notions and a hardon, which won't do me any good since Marie was fifteen miles away and probably unwilling, anyway, and this hot raffle number is strictly out of bounds. Still, he couldn't help entertaining a few lewd thoughts about the beautifully seductive Mrs. Green. Christ, she would probably be a holy terror in bed, the way she walked, and smiled, that husky voice, everything about her was irrefutable proof that she was a woman unfettered by most of the sexual restraints that plagued his own wife.

"Did you have any trouble finding the place?" Her sensual voice snapped him out of his erotic reverie.

"What?, oh no, not at all. Your instructions were right on the dot."

"Good. Well, would you like the tour now, or later?"

"Right now! I can't wait to get a peek at the work of the greatest new talent this side of the Mississippi."

"Oh, you're a tease," Della said breathily, and reached out to take his arm and guide him towards her workroom in the back of the house. Her cool, scantilyclad body brushed against him repeatedly as she did so, and he was having difficulty keeping his mind on the reason he'd come.

They spent almost a half hour in the studio looking at the paintings, Paul clearly impressed by the quality of Della's work. It all had a common color, a thread of excitement and, yes, undeniable overtones of sensuality that ran like a thread through every picture. She painted mostly people, and every study contained in it the hints of an unquenchable passion, a thirst that was almost sexual in nature, which burst forth from the eyes and bodies of every subject. Paul saw Della clearly in her work, and knew, without a doubt, that the same passion expressed in her paintings gave the dark, fiery woman standing so close beside him the incredibly sensual nature that was exciting him at that very moment. He realized instinctively that that passion, in the artist as well as the painting, was a hungry, and yet insatiable sexuality. That intuitive thought made Della's every touch, every sultry word as she led him around her studio, arouse in him his own sexual frustrations, until they almost begged for release. Paul felt a hard knot slowly forming in his chest, and sensed the early stirrings of his warmly tingling cock underneath his smooth slacks.

"Well, that's it," Della said as they came to her last painting. "What do you think?"

"I think it's good. It's very good," Paul managed to say, without too much of a catch in his throat.

"Oh, you're just saying that," Della teased, leaning against him. "But I'll give you a drink anyway, if you like."

Paul felt the maddening caress of her full, luscious breasts as they brushed against his thin short-sleeve shirt. His rapidly awakening penis gave another undeniable jerk, and he turned his body from her so that she wouldn't see it.

"That sounds like the best idea I've heard all morning," he said gratefully.

"Follow me." She reached out and took his hand once again.

He allowed her to lead him back into the living room. The touch of her fingers had further erotic effect on his already semi-aroused state; it was as if there were tiny, hidden electrodes beneath her skin, vibrating through to his flesh. He felt a certain dryness in his throat, and his eyes were on the seductively undulating rhythm of her smooth rounded buttocks through the tight shorts. Damn, but she was one hell of a sensual woman! If he wasn't married, and she wasn't married, well, there was no use stinking about it, getting himself all worked up over nothing.

"What can I get you?"

"I'll put myself in your capable hands."

"That's what I like to hear," Della laughed, a teasing and inscrutable smile playing tag with him behind her eyes. "I've got a special treat for you. Ever had any Pastis?"

"No, what is it? Sounds oily."

"Well, it does seem to oil the parts that need oiling, that's true enough," Della laughed again. "I think you'll like it. It tastes like licorice."

"Well." Paul said dubiously. "How do you mix it?"

"With water," Della answered. "Serve it over ice. I'll get some from the refrigerator."

She moved away, returning moments later with a tray of ice. Paul had put two glasses on the bar face, and she dropped two cubes into each one. He uncapped the bottle and poured some of the clear liquid into a glass and added a bit of water; almost immediately, its consistency changed to an opaque, almost milky one. "Hey I" said. "I thought only Pernod did that."

"No, Pastis does too." she lifted her glass, waited until he followed suit and then said, "A toast. To my brilliant work, and its ultimate success."

"Hear, hear." Paul sipped the drink, found that it did taste a little like licorice and that it wasn't at all bad; in fact, it went down quite smoothly.

"Like?"

"Hmmmmm!"

"Shall we sit down on the couch?"

"All right."

They sat down. It seemed to Paul that she sat rather close to him. She crossed one slim, tanned leg over the other, which tightened the material of her shorts into the sharply-defined slit up between her long legs, making the outline folds of her vagina bulge out the brilliant orange of the material. She leaned forward slightly, holding her drink in one hand, so that a good deal of the creamy white mounds of her full, globular breasts were exposed to him and just a hint of the ruby hardness of her nipples. He felt a slight flush start on the base of his neck, but he wasn't able to take his eyes from her provocative lushness. His quickly thickening penis spasmed beneath his trousers and, feeling a little ashamed, he took a long pull at his glass, draining the contents.

"I'll make us another one," Della said, taking a healthy sip of her own drink. Before he could protest, she slid off the settee, took his glass, and went to the bar. She was smiling quietly to herself as she refilled their glasses from the green bottle of Pastis. She'd been drinking it for a number of years, and knew the effect it had on the masculine libido after only three or four ounces. It increased her own sexual fervor, too, though she could control herself if she felt like it; not that she was going to feel like it, of course. Yes, Paul Maxwell was hers now, no mistake. She felt initial droplets of lustheated fluid begin to flow from the softly sensitive walls of her vagina, as she thought about what would be taking place within the next hour.

She carried the filled glasses back to the unsuspecting art critic and handed him one. She was aware of his hot eyes locked hungrily on her, and she glanced every now and then at the front of his pants. She could see his long, erected cock pulsing there, jumping spasmodically from time to time, pushing his trouser material out briefly, and her wetly throbbing cunt began to flow faster with increased anticipation. The second drink disappeared even more rapidly than the first, as she knew it would, and she quickly poured him another one. He didn't protest at all but drank thirstily from it when she gave him the glass.

Paul felt a warm, relaxed lethargy begin to flow over him. The Pastis was beginning to have an effect on him, he knew that, but the feeling was so pleasant that he really didn't care. It wasn't every day that a man had the opportunity of getting mildly looped with a woman as beautiful, as wildly provocative, as Della Green.

She was really something, he thought admiringly. She exuded pure animal sex, like a kind of aura encompassing her invisibly as she walked, moved, spoke. What I'd like to do, really like to do, would be to reach out and take her In my arms, kiss her, love her up a little. Oh, not anything more than that, I wouldn't try to fuck her or anything, but Lord it would be nice to kiss those warm red lips and caress those big pillow soft tits and tweak those nipples into rock hardness, to take each one in my mouth and roll it around and around my tongue while I sucked a little,

Paul felt his angrily pulsating cock jerk into instant rigidity, as if it were alive or as if it were a tightly coiled spring held down by a fragile safety latch, straining to whip out with a sudden "twang".

He tried to will it limp again, to banish the obscene thoughts swirling in his mind, but it remained throbbingly blood swollen. Guiltily, his eyes went to Della's face.

She was looking at the bulge in his pants.

And she was smiling with wetly parted lips and fervid eyes.

"Why, Paul!" she said in mock surprise, mock reproof. "Whatever were you thinking about to have that happen now?"

"I, well, I." he stuttered, his face a flaming red.

She laughed deep in her throat.

"Della, I... I'm sorry... it's just that I..." he faltered.

"I know what it is," she whispered. "I know why you have a hard on."

His breath quickened at her lewd words. "You... you do?"

"You have a hard-on because you want to fuck me," she said. "That's right, isn't it, Paul? You do want to fuck me, don't you? You want to stick your nice hard prick into me?"

"Oh God!" he managed to breathe. His massively pulsing pelvis seemed to be about to explode in his pants now, and his brain reeled. Had he heard correctly? Yes, yes, of course he had. But why was she talking to him like that? What was the matter with her? Oh Christ, he could feel his suddenly churning balls begin to ache from the pressure of his gathering sperm; he really needed it, he really did, and Della talking to him like that wasn't helping matters any. Didn't she know what might happen, mouthing obscene words like that to a man? Didn't she know? He took another long swallow of his Pastis and found that his hand was trembling slightly.

The seductive brunette leaned close to him, and he could feel her breath on his cheek, like the scorching heat of a white hot firebrand. She touched his knee, lightly, but her fingers seemed to sear right through the cloth.

"Well?" she asked. "Wouldn't you like to fuck me? Wouldn't you really?"

"Della, Christ, Della, cut it out! I'm, only human!"

"And so am I, babe, so am I," she purred on. "My cunt is on fire right now. And the only thing that can put out that fire is a big, hard cock. You have a big, hard cock, Paul. I can tell you do."

And she reached out and lightly stroked her fingers across the throbbing bulge.

He almost leapt off the couch in a convulsive reaction to the electrical shock of her touch on his painfully throbbing penis, encased within his pants though it was. Della stroked it gently, tantalizingly, sliding closer to him as he tried to pull back, increasing the rhythm of her caresses. Her firmly ripe breasts pressed softly against his arm, and her moist warm lips found his jaw line, traced a pattern upward along his cheek and then over to search for his open mouth. Her tongue trailed a path of fire along the skin Of his face as her hand continued to rub the massively swollen hardness between his legs.

"Della, please, for Christ's sake!"

"You want to fuck me, don't you?" the undulating seductress repeated, droning the words in an almost mesmeric voice, like a hypnotist practicing her art on an unwilling, but nonetheless hypnotizable, subject. "You want to fuck me, Paul, you want to fuck me."

"No, I, no! Oh Jesus, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"

He couldn't help himself. The words tore from his throat, in a strangled kind of whisper that he scarcely recognized, and then his mouth was bending hungrily down against hers, his tongue flailing deep into her moistly heated mouth. Her hand began to move faster over that long bulge in his trousers, and she eagerly sucked and nibbled at his wet quivering tongue, swirling her own tongue around and around his, darting it into his mouth and then drawing it back to accept the onslaught of his probing member. As if with a will of its own, Paul's left hand came up and found her warmly upthrust breast, squeezed and kneaded the flesh momentarily, then dipped inside the orange halter to draw the garment down and away, exposing her nakedly ripe breast with its fiery nipple and dark brown areola. He could feel the seeping hot wetness of the seminal fluid oozing from the pulsating tip of his cock as she continued to massage him with such a practiced thoroughness that he thought the head would surely erupt.

And then, suddenly, with his finger kneading the warmly resilient flesh of her magnificent large breasts, and his long hard cock jerking almost out of control, the full impact of what he was doing struck Paul's mind like a mailed fist.

My God! he thought wildly. No, this is wrong, all wrong, I'm a married man, this is wrong, she's married, too! Jesus... what would Dick Green say? What would Marie say? What would she say if she saw what was happening right now, my hand on another woman's naked tit and that woman 's hand stroking and rubbing my cock, I can't go through with it, I just can't!

The guilt was so strong within him that he wrenched violently away from Della, pulling his mouth from hers, turning his body so that her hand left his bulging lap. His face was flushed a brilliant crimson - partially from shame and partially from his intense arousal. He averted his eyes, looking at the far wall, breathing deeply, raggedly.

"What's the matter, babe?" Della asked casually beside him, and then, with full feminine perception: "You're having an attack of conscience, aren't you? You're thinking about your wife."

"Y-Yes," he managed to answer. "What, what are we doing, what we were leading up to, Christ, Della, it was crazy, it was all wrong."

"Was it?" she asked.

"Yes, of course."

"I don't think so," she said.

"Yes, yes."

"You want to fuck me as much as I want you to fuck me," she teased in that droning, sultry voice of hers. "You know it and I know it. So why pretend any different?"

"Jesus, Della!"

"It's purely a physical matter," she continued. "You want to get into my soft warm pussy, and I want your big old cock inside me. That's all," her lewd words floated across to his mind.

"I, I love my wife!"

"Sure you do. And I love my husband. But that doesn't have anything to do with us, with here and now, with fucking."

No, no, I don't want to hear any more! Paul thought with gathering panic. It's wrong, it's wrong, but what she says is true in some ways, you don't have to love a woman to want to fuck her, but no, damn it, no, I can't do it!

He jumped up from the couch, standing with his back to the dark-haired artist, staring at the wall again. His heart hammered violently in his chest, and he was aware that his wildly pulsating cock was still granite-hard in his pants, that it was still seeping hot droplets of lubrication. But he had to compose himself, find a way to get far, far away from her and to hell with,

Her voice whispered huskily behind him, "Paul, babe."

He turned, gathering his courage to say what had to be said, but when he saw her the words died in his throat. His mouth hinged open, and his eyes froze.

Della Green stood before him completely naked!

She had unhooked the halter and stepped out of the brief shorts; the articles of clothing made a puddle of brilliant color on the bare floor at her feet. She stood with her long tanned legs spread apart, her head and shoulders pulled back, her hands knuckled provocatively on her proud, flaring hips. She was smiling at him with her mouth parted, her teeth slightly bared, the tip of her quivering pink tongue showing. Her wet, petal-like, hair-lined lips of her vagina were presented to his eyes like an Aztec virgin on a sacrificial altar, waiting for a huge, plunging weapon to stab into her. The black triangular bush of her sparse pubic triangle glistened lewdly in the pale afternoon light. Her high, perfectly rounded breasts, startling alabaster white against the deep tan of her other parts, jutted out like two ruby encrusted, snow-capped mountain peaks, waiting to be climbed, asking to be conquered. Her legs, so slender, so satiny smooth-looking at their inner thighs, were moist with the warm flowing juices of her passion-flowered cuntal mouth.

"Well, babe?" she asked. "Do you like what you see?"

"Della," her name choked past his swollen throat, but that was all. He couldn't say anything else. He could only stare at her, at her loveliness, at her completely lewd, wanton pose. His maddeningly hammering cock began to assert its mastery over the mind and take control of his body.

Slowly, slowly, the voluptuously naked brunette lifted her hands, her eyes fastened on his, and began to slide her palms up and down, up and down, along her silky sides from the outer swells of her ripe straining breasts to her flanks. Brazenly, she cupped the firm white mounds of her breasts, kneading them lightly, pushing them out toward him as if presenting him with two forbidden but delicious gifts of flesh. Then her hands were stroking her taut little belly, moving down ever so slowly until the tips of her pink tinted nails were just touching the fleece of her darkly inviting pubic triangle. She held that pose for a long moment, thumbs pressing against her slender, sculptured sides, fingers splayed obscenely across her naked belly.

The young art critic stood as if transfixed, unable to move, unable to speak, captured totally and completely by the strange fascinating allure of this wildly seductive woman before him and the absolute lustful sexuality of the scene he was witnessing. His frantically jerking penis seemed to be screaming with his ever increasing arousal.

Slowly, Della's hands began to move again, the fingertips dipping lower through her softly curling pubic hair, blazing a path toward the narrow pink slit up between her outspread legs. When she reached it, she placed the thumb and forefinger of her left hand on either side of the wetly glistening pussy lips and spread them slowly apart, revealing the trembling oily red bud of her erect little clit to Paul's lustful gaze. With her outstretched right forefinger, then, she traced down, down, until the tip came in contact with the miniature phallus. She began to stroke it, titillating it back and forth, round and round, sending more rivulets of her lubrication trailing down her inner thighs. And while she stroked her clit, rubbing her finger in a maddening cadence along the gaping crevice of her wet, visibly throbbing cunt, she began to talk to him in her droning, mesmeric voice.

"I want to fuck you, babe. I want to fuck you like you've never been fucked before. I want to put my finger in your ass while you're fucking me, and I want you to do the same for me. And afterward, I want to suck your big, throbbing cock, suck it until I milk you dry, and then I'll lick your ass, I'll put my tongue in it until I make you so hard again. I want you to eat my pussy, I want your tongue where my finger is now, licking and biting and kissing my clit, I want."

On and on she intoned, and the words, the absolute perverted obscenity of what he was hearing - lashed Paul's mind into a swirling frenzy of wild, implacable lust. Oh Christ, I've got to have her! I don't care about anything now, the only thing that matters is Della's lewd invitation to fuck her. The sight of that hot little bitch fingerfucking herself is driving me nuts. Jesus! I've got to fuck her!

As if he was somehow spirit free from his body, he watched himself objectively as his legs worked, moving his body forward, bringing him closer to her nakedly undulating body. He watched her finger cease its rhythmic motion on her clit as he approached, and her smile turn to one of triumph as she claimed her victory beyond any doubt. His hand went out to her, touched her warmly rounded shoulders, but then she was moving back away from him, saying softly, "Not here, babe. In the bedroom."

He followed her mutely, blindly, like a faithful dog after its master, his shamelessly aroused body and his mind afire with his consuming passion. She led him into the bedroom and then lay back on the King-sized bed with her legs spread as wide as she was able to splay them. "Get naked babe," she whispered up to him. "I want to see that big prick of yours. I want to see how well hung you are. Show me your cock, babe. Let me see it."

With numbed fingers, mindless with desire, Paul undid his belt, took off his trousers, his shirt, out of his shorts. He stood there before her, as if waiting for queenly approval, his thick, eleven-inch shaft standing out at right angle from his loins, throbbing like powerful machinery.

"OHMYGOD... it's HUGE! What can I say? It's lovely, just beautiful. As big as I knew it would be." She laughed very softly. "You do want to put it inside me, don't you? Tell me you want to put it inside me... and hurt me with it?"

"Yes, yes, I want to put it inside you and leave it there for quite a long hard time!" The words rasped from his throat hoarsely, in a voice he had never heard before.

"You want to fuck me, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, I want to fuck you!"

"How? How do you want to fuck me, babe?"

"Deep!" he cried. "Deep and hard! I want to jam my cock up to your throat! I want to make you scream for me! I want to fuck you like you've never been fucked before!"

"Yes, babe, that's the way! That's the way I want it!" Her voice had lost some of its earlier mastery and it seemed now that there was an element of hot impatience in it.

A small, tortured cry came from the very core of Paul's being and he flung himself onto the bed beside her. He dragged her into the enveloping fold of his arm not caring about anything but this soft, warm, musky smelling woman pressed nakedly to him. He was dimly aware that later, when it was over, there would be remorse, self loathing, but at that moment he didn't care; he just didn't care!

He showered moist hot kisses all over her face, her throat, into the warm soft valley of her breasts, his hands moving over the smooth hills of her buttocks, cupping them, squeezing the flesh. She was breathing into his ear, hot and sweet, and her tongue flicked out to dance inside the orifice, racing along the soft skin of his sensitive inner ear. Her hand searched down between their tightly clasped naked bodies and located the rock hardness of his pulsating penis. He gasped as the hot, searing tips of her fingers closed over his sensitive penile flesh, and then his mouth closed hungrily down over hers as their tongues lashed and twirled against one another, trying to blend into one. She crushed the full length of her sensually writhing body against his and ground her pelvis hard into him, and then she twisted suddenly, pulling him over astride her, opening her lithe tapered legs as wide as they had been before, her wetly palpitating cunt flared open, dripping and waiting.

Della's hands were running wildly up and down along his body, tracing the hard muscles of his shoulders, the cleft of his back, the hirsute cheeks of his ass, exploring all of him as if he were an uncharted island and she an explorer. His long, massively throbbing cock rested hard, trailing dribbles of liquid, against her thighs and pressed into the narrow, hair lined slit of her eagerly undulating cunt. She arched for a moment, levering their nakedly entwined bodies up with the strength of her back then reached under her buttocks, and, with both hands, pulled her wetly glistering vaginal lips slowly apart, giving his thick, lust hardened shaft greater contact with her moistly sensitive cuntal flesh. His long hard penis lay softly cradled and throbbing in the full length of her warm wet crevice. She relaxed, dropping her body back to the bed, his massively rigid flesh trapped hotly between her soft inner thighs.

The young art critic forced his hands between her shoulders and the bed and ran them down the soft curves of her back and hips, as he made little inarticulate sounds of animal desire deep in his throat. The raised ridges of her spine felt hot, white hot, to him as she undulated her ripe lush body against him in a slow teasing rhythm. The sinews of her muscles rippled lightly just under the tanned skin giving testimony to the secret, predatory power she possessed. The tenseness of the muscle cords in her thighs pressed quivering against the outside of his hips, and he wondered vaguely how they would grip around him moments from now, when he sent his hot pistoning cock burrowing deep into her tight little pussy.

"You feel good, babe," she breathed. "All of you feels good, but your cock feels the best of all." Her nails trailed across his back, leaving small red welts in their sharp path. Paul pushed his hands farther down beneath her, cupping the fullness of her smoothly rounded ass in the palms of his sweat slick hands, pulling her loins hard against him. He moved his thick long hardness up and down the fiery slit, feeling her grow warmer and wetter as passion seethed out of her. Now her nakedly grinding buttocks began a more desperate rotation up against his loins until her legs, without warning, snaked out wide on either side of him, her sleek warm calves locking against the back of his thighs, pulling him tighter to her.

"Ooooohhhhh, fuck me!" she wailed. "Fuck me now, babe, fuck me, fuck me, fuckkkkkkk meeeeeeee!"

He began to thrust forward, but her pelvis was already grinding forward and her hands were already between their bodies, circling around his wildly palpitating cock to guide it between the blood filled lips of her surging young cunt. Paul groaned loudly as he felt her knowledgeable hands move his hard shaft of hot flesh up and down between her legs, running it the length of her hair lined slit, parting the soft, fleecy hair covering her vagina with the lustswollen cock head. The pressure in his sperm-bloated balls was excruciating now, and he knew he couldn't hold back another second. Now! He had to fuck her now!

He flexed his hips with a sudden cruel, driving thrust that drove his huge, rock-hard penis deep up into the hot, wetly gaping mouth of her pussy, drove it home with a flesh-splitting crash.

"Aaaaaarrggggghhhh!" she screamed beneath him.

He felt the elastic sheath slip wetly, hotly, around his long fleshy rod, consuming it as it raced to the full length of her belly, her seeping vaginal walls lubricating the way. Suddenly, he hit bottom, his balls slapping up against the softly mooned cheeks of her ass.

"Oooooooohhhhhhh!" she screamed again. "Ohhhh, that's it, babe, that's the way to fuck me, that's ittttttt!"

Paul ground his pelvis into the squirming, moistly pliant flesh beneath him, fucking into her with deep, powerful strokes. She strained back under him, arching her nakedly writhing loins up at him, lifting them both a few inches off the squeaking, already sweat soaked bedspread. She moaned and mewled wildly under his pounding, driving body now, opening and closing her beautiful long legs around his ass as she worked up and down on his massive pole of hot flesh in a pagan rhythm. Her mouth gaped open wide, her head flailed from side to side in wild, insane abandon.

"Ohhh, it's, good, babe, good like I knew it would be, ooooohhhh yessssssss! That's the way, that's it. Now shove your finger in my ass! Do it now, Paul, do it now! Shove your finger in my ass, and make me scream for you!"

In slave-like obedience, Paul reached between her frantically rotating buttocks as he drove his long pistoning cock into the hot moistness of her pussy. He stretched her ass cheeks wide with his hands, and then dipped his extended middle finger toward her ass. A small stream of warm slippery moisture was running down the widespread crevice from where he was fucking into her wetly seeping cunt. It lubricated the tightly puckered little anal ring, and he probed experimentally for a moment. Then he thrust forward with his outstretched finger, ramming hard and feeling the rubbery opening yield slightly; suddenly, the nether ring gave way completely, and his finger slid in up to the first knuckle in, the tight elasticity of her hotly clenched anal passage. Her body convulsed upward to crash into his with a loud slapping sound at the sudden, lancing pain and she screamed, "Aaaaaahhhh, it hurts, it hurts, but I like it, I like it!"

His teeth tightly gritted, he thrust again, sinking his finger to the second knuckle.

"Ohhhhhhh! Yessss, that's it, hurt me, hurt me - fuck me... rape me like the whore I am, baby... teach me a lesson with your big cock, hurt me, make me remember your big cock!"

Despite her cries, Paul felt Della suddenly begin to screw her softly fleshed buttocks back down on his long worming finger until it was sunk to the palm of his hand. He waggled it inside her fleshy passage, eliciting more cries of pain and passion from her. He could feel through the thin wall of flesh separating her two passages, the underside of his driving cock sliding in and out of her wet pulsating cunt; he timed the thrusts of his finger with the forward stabs of his eagerly pistoning shaft, impaling her on two strong, hard, immovable objects. The voluptuous brunette groaned wildly under him and he could feel his massively swollen cock growing and expanding inside her until it felt as though it were going to burst from the pleasure and pressure building in his balls. He had to cum soon, he had to, he had to! If he didn't cum, he was going to go out of his goddamned mind! Oh Jesus, he had never known fucking could be like this, this good, never, never."

He wanted her to cum too, to mingle her bursting juices with his simultaneously, and he began ramming his massively rigid thickness into her still harder, in time with his burgeoning finger skewering into the rubbery depths of her ass. She gripped him tight between her imprisoning thighs, opening and closing them around him in time to his long, hard thrusts, and he knew that she was approaching her orgasm. He continued the dual merciless thrusting of his cock and his finger with all the strength he possessed in his muscled body.

"Aaaaaaggghhhh, fuck it, fuck it, that's it, babe, fuck it hard! Fuuuuuucccccekkkkkkiiiitttttt!"

She continued to chant the words, over and over, drawing each syllable out, spurring him on to greater heights with her obscene mumbling, pounding her heels with rhythmic tempo on his back as she jack-knifed her legs up to mash them against her firmly rounded breasts, offering him the full expanse of her upturned loins. Her eyes rolled like a hopeless drunk, her face contorted with animal lust as she sought to achieve her imminent release.

And then"I'm, there, oh God I'm there! I'm, ccccuunummmmminiiinnnnnnngggggg!"

The words burst from her throat in a low, banshee wail, piercing his eardrums, and she pulled her frantically trembling thighs back tighter until the whole of her widespread pussy was presented to his heaving pelvis. Her ankles locked over his shoulders, and she squirmed her hips beneath him in a wild, uninhibited dance of ecstasy, screaming out the joyousness of her orgasm to him.

Paul felt the warm, gushing juices of her climax seethe and flow around his hot thundering cock as he battered his body brutally against hers, as she locked herself up on his virile young penis with all the power in her thighs, as her fire and honey loins spasmed convulsively against his belly. And then the great swirl of heat which was building, building in his sperm-churning testicles became unbearable, and he gasped again and again, and finally the hot sticky load began its frenzied rush from his bloated scrotum along the tube of his wildly jerking cock. He began to spew thickly heated streams of cum into her madly sucking cunt in seemingly never ending bursts, emptying his very soul deep, deep up into the warm inner depths of her insatiably lusting pussy. He moaned as the last of his sperm flung itself outward an eternity later, and then he slowly withdrew his rapidly deflating penis. It came out with a soft popping sound, trailing thin gossamer like threads of semen along her rounded little belly and matted pubic hair as he rolled over beside her, his mouth open and his breath rasping out of his lungs.

A long moment passed, and Della said quietly, "That was lovely, Paul. It really was lovely. I don't know when I've been fucked so good."

He didn't answer. He just lay there, satiated, completely fulfilled. He knew he should feel guilty now, feel the first stirring wave of remorse, shame, and self-deprecation. But they weren't forthcoming. He felt only like a fullblooded, virile man, a man who had satisfied a true, sensual woman and in turn been satisfied himself. He felt a certain power, a certain complacency, a much needed bolstering of his masculine ego. With Marie, he had never known that feeling, had known only a vague veiled sense of inadequacy and frustration, as if there were something the matter with his lovemaking which prevented him from really arousing her deepest, hidden emotions.

Marie. His wife's name echoed again and again in his mind, and a small part of him tried to make the guilt, the shame, come; but the virile man that was growing inside him simply shrugged the thoughts away, and he lay there, feeling the warm heat of the stunningly voluptuous woman next to him, smelling the musk of her perfume and the permeating odor of their consumed lust.

He felt Della stir, then, and suddenly she was on all fours beside him, hovering over his belly, staring hungrily down at his now limp cock glistening with the coagulating juices of her recent orgasm. She said, "I'm going to teach you things you never knew existed. Would you like that?"

He ran his tongue across his lips, found them to be dry again. He felt a tremor of excitement suddenly course through his loins. Could he get another hard on so soon? Was that really possible? "Yes," he answered. "Yes, teach me, teach me!"

Her head dropped slowly, toward his groin, and abruptly her little pink tongue flicked out, the tip boring teasingly into the glans opening, causing a thin oozing, the final stage of his cum, to flow forth and disappear into her eagerly lapping mouth. She ran her tongue along the flaccid expanse of his wetly glistening penis, down over his soft, wrinkled scrotum, wiping away her own orgasm juices before they could fully coagulate on his genitals. She smiled as she bent to her task, for Paul's still inexperienced cock was beginning to show signs of hardening again, was stirring beneath her expert oral manipulations. She drew her head back and let him see her smile, and then she said, "I'm going to kiss your lovely cock until it gets hard again, babe. Then I'll suck you for a while. Would you like that?"

"Yes, oh, yes!"

"But not here,we'll go out in the rear yard. I'll suck you under the open sky. Have you ever done that before, Paul?"

"No, God, it sounds wonderful!"

"It will be," she promised. "It will be, babe."


Dick Green rested one arm lightly across the back of the seat as he eased his car onto Oro Canyon Road. He gazed briefly across to the passenger seat, where Marie Maxwell stared out the window at the magnificence of the plush homes lining her side of the street, and smiled lewdly to himself. It had been easier than he'd expected!

He'd called up Marie in the middle of the afternoon, as he and his wife had planned the night before, and found that she didn't know where her husband had disappeared to. Dick had told her that Paul had gone to offer Della some critique of her paintings, and then proposed that they go to his home to join the two "artists" for some drinks. Marie had hesitated, but then accepted gratefully, and Dick had picked her up at her house not 20 minutes later, barely able to keep his excitement in check when she greeted him at the door dressed in the shortest of mini dresses. Her smoothly creamy thighs had raised in him an almost unbearable anticipation, and it was all he could do now to keep from reaching out and caressing her as she sat so unsuspectingly beside him.

"We're almost there," he said to her, smiling warmly.

"What a beautiful neighborhood," Marie returned, without turning her head from the window. She hadn't imagined that the Green's were so well off But then again, he was the vice-president of a bank,

She'd been hesitant at first about accepting his invitation for drinks, partly at any rate because of the strained atmosphere between Paul and herself that morning. Although she hadn't wanted to admit it to her husband, Marie had been deeply hurt by his almost animalistic behavior the night before. But then she'd decided that perhaps a few drinks with a gregarious couple like the Greens were perhaps just what the doctor ordered, that this was the perfect chance to ease the tension between them. She was in good spirits now, as the car made its way up the broad avenue of Oro Canyon Road, and she turned to her host gaily.

"Are Paul and Della expecting us?" she asked him.

"No, we're going to surprise them," Dick whispered back conspiratorially.

"I hope Paul is still there. He might have left by now."

"I somehow doubt that," Dick chuckled. He turned the car into his driveway, and pulled quietly up in front of their rambling home. He got out and shut his door as noiselessly as he could, and then watched Marie close her door almost soundlessly with feminine grace. Perfect! Now if everything was as planned,

"Well, Paul is still here anyway." Marie said to him. "At least his car is." Marie impulsively linked her arm in Dick Green's as they made their way around the Maxwell's car and up into the house Dick opened the door without a sound, and ushered Marie inside. The living room was empty.

"Now, where could they be?" Dick asked himself aloud, barely able to keep a smile from his lips. "Maybe they're back in Della's studio."

Suddenly, the sounds of giggling and girlish twittering reached Dick and Marie's ears. It seemed to be coming from the opened sliding doom that apparently led into the backyard.

"Oh God, Della, that's it! Suck me! Suck my cock, you beautiful, loveable whore!"

Marie froze, her mind joggled by the crude, lascivious sentence she had heard. Her face contorted with confused horror, and she turned to Dick. Her breath seemed choked in her throat like a lump of molten steel. "What, what was that?" she managed.

"I don't know. It sounded like a man. Like, Paul!" he whispered. The picture of indignation and anger, he grabbed Marie's tender hand. "C'mon, let's see what the hell is going on!"

"But, I."

Marie was almost pulled off her feet by the prodding Dick Green. She wanted to run, to flee from what her brain told her was an impossibility, but yet an all too real reality. But the banker's strength was too much. Still confused, still unready to accept the fact of her husband's infidelity so callously at hand, Marie let him take her to the sliding doors, and there, hidden by some hanging drapes, she peered onto the grassy stretch of back yard. She took one quick glance and her whole, wonderful world shattered like crystal glass. She tried to scream, to die, to blot out the scene she was witnessing, but the horror, the outrageous defilement of her soul, was too great! Abjectly, she turned and buried her now tear-streamed face into the comforting broadness of Dick's chest.

"Oh, no, no, no, it can't be! Not Paul!" she moaned, her sounds of anguish muffled by Dick's body. "I don't believe it!"

What she had so briefly seen was her husband and Della Green locked in the age old embrace of mutual oral manipulation. They were lying on a fluffy beach towel, completely naked, their hands coursing over each other's bodies, their mouths and tongues bobbing hungrily up and down between each other's legs. They squirmed and writhed as though demon possessed, the lewd wet sounds of their mutual sucking resounding through the air.

Dick Green maintained his shocked, indignant expression as he saw his wife moaning with abandon while she voraciously sucked the large, wetly glistening cock sawing between her lips, and as he saw Paul's wildly bobbing head licking the pink, tender flesh of Della's pussy. Inwardly, he glowed with satisfaction and sadistic pleasure, and he felt his always eager cock begin to harden in his pants. He brushed against the sobbing Marie, feeling her softly ripened curves mold themselves to his body, and he had a sudden, almost overwhelming desire to grab her, violently strip the few wisps of clothes off between them and join the shamelessly fucking couple on the large towel. But he knew women well enough to be certain this was not the proper time. He would have to wait until the horrified and helpless shock in Marie fumed into anger and revenge. A scorned or wronged woman would do anything against her errant mate and stupidly abandon the morals of a lifetime doing so. He would bide his time and slowly work her into the temper he needed.

"I don't believe it!" she gasped again.

Dick tried to look pained as he folded his arms about her protectively. "It's true, Marie. I'm afraid it's true."

She shuddered. "They're acting like, animals!" She tried to blank out the horrid, disgusting scene, but her mind's eye kept focusing on the picture of Paul and Della in their perverted pose. How could he do such a things She remembered the previous night, when he had acted so bestially. And now he was doing this unbelievably obscene thing to another woman,

Almost hypnotically, Marie fumed and saw again the salacious sight before her. All she saw or cared about was the horrible lewdness being performed on the towel, and she gaped in disbelief, her eyes absorbed by the passionate writhing. Della was at a fever pitch, her tightly ovaled mouth straining to swallow the whole rigid penis pumping in and out between her lips. Even as Marie watched, Della devoured the moistly shining cock all the way up to Paul's pubic hair, so that none of the thick fleshy shaft was left to view. She continued to stare, frozen by shock, stunned by the blatantly lewd scene. Della's free hand was pumping up and down on the long hard shaft in lewd rhythm with her licking, and as she inhaled the sweet masculine odor of him, a wild thrill of excitement rippled through her. Expertly, she ceased her wild tongue washing, and then, with infinite slowness, closed her lips warmly and moistly around the hard rubbery head, pressuring it just below the mushroomed cap, holding it tight like a rubber band.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm, Christ, your hot little mouth feels good on my cock." Paul moaned into her warm perfumed pussy as he pushed his thick throbbing cock into her lust contorted face. He felt her teeth nibbling gently at the spongy flesh, and her tongue tripping eagerly around his long sensitive hardness, as she slowly began to move her soft warm mouth up and down its full length.

She continued to suck and lick more hungrily on the distended organ, goading it into an even greater rigidity and width, her palm kneading softly and teasingly at the roiling heavy sac of his testicles. Her wetly sucking lips ovaled even more tightly around the throbbing circumference as she strove to enclose more and more of it in her warm buttery mouth, taking it far back inside her until the tip of it was brushing against her tonsils. Her cheeks were puffed with the hotly pulsating flesh inside as her fingers held the vein-marbled shaft around the base, guiding it into her wildly salivating mouth, and she felt the pulse beat of his turbulent hot blood as it coursed through the virile young cock she had excited to the supreme heights of arousal by her wanton, unabashed sucking ,

Marie drew in her breath as she watched her husband take his hands and spread Della Green's fleshy inner thighs even further apart to reveal the moist, blood engorged vaginal slit and its wetly throbbing pink surface matted with his saliva. Then Paul dropped his head again, and Della's shamelessly writhing cunt was once more lost from sight. Out there, on the towel, Dick's wife moaned deep in her throat and locked her legs around his head, her nakedly sculptured hips moving with the rhythm of his burrowing tongue.

Involuntarily, subconsciously, Marie found herself beginning to thaw with Della's lewd undulations as Paul continued to gluttonously lick the woman's vaginal area. "I can't stand it!" she gasped, steeling herself to cease the sympathetic movements of her body. "Stop them, please! We have to go out there and stop them!"

"No," Dick said."

"But you can't, that's your wife, and, we must stop them!"

Her words were a jumble of incoherence, an idiot's babbling. Dick knew that she was almost ready to crack, and that it was time to take her away. Her mind was filled with wretchedness, and to make her view more might jeopardize his plan. The last thing he wanted to do was make a scene now. Later, but not now. He turned her head away from the couple and looked deeply, concernedly into her shock-dazed eyes.

"No, honey. Let them be. I'm as hurt and angry as you, but to stop them now would only make matters worse. We saw them, and we'll confront them, but later when everybody has calmed down. Let's be level headed about this."

"Then let's leave. Now! Take me home, Dick please!"

Nodding agreement, he led her out the way they'd come and back toward the car. "That's probably the wisest thing to do at the moment. We'll talk this over on the way back, like full-grown adults."

Marie managed to stem her tears, and taking a deep breath to help gain control, she let Dick hand her into the car.

He reached in across her lap, brushing against her firmly curved thighs, opened the glove compartment, and brought out a large flask.

"Here. Drink this. It's scotch. It'll help."

She did, willingly, taking a long swallow. Gratefully she handed the flask back, but he indicated she keep it. Getting in, he started the car and backed quietly down the driveway.

They didn't talk for awhile, and the bewildered young wife's head swam with the damning sight she had just witnessed. She had never seen Paul so lust provoked, so wicked. His hardened penis had never seemed so huge, certainly it hadn't been in all their married life, she was sure of that! And then there was Della, with her long tanned legs flaying obscenely around his head, sucking his, sucking, Marie took yet another drink of the flask she clasped tightly in her anguished hands.

Paul's cock, thought Della as she sucked it joyously, was almost as large and gifted as her husband's. Yes, Dick had been right: the Flemings had been an excellent choice, and his idea of her seducing Paul first was marvelous! All the more time to enjoy the strange and exciting thrill a whole new prick, and the wonderment of new wrinkles to the same tricks. She felt the extra tingle of sexual passion at knowing that she and Paul might at his very moment be under observation spied upon in the act of love by her husband and Marie Maxwell, and that thought sent new shivers of pleasure through her lust perverted senses. She loved that! She adored to have her sensually perfect body displayed and paraded in front of voyeurs and if she could have, she would have loved to be gang fucked on a stage in front of an audience. How lucky she had been to find such an understanding and cooperative husband as Dick, and she returned to her task with renewed gusto, her mind filled with the exciting warmth of Paul's magnificently pulsating cock.

She tasted his masculine piquancy, the tang of his sweet genitals, smeared as they were with her own vaginal lubricating juices, and the thought of what she was doing sent wild tremors of delight coursing through her. Her warm wet tongue brushed along the thick base of the hot pole of flesh and grazed the wide underside to its coronal ridge, sticky and protruding from the thick foreskin, washing and playing with it with caressing, lapping strokes. And then she returned to its base and the hair covered sac of his testicles, the wiry hairs tickling her chin and cheeks and lips, as her warm saliva dribbled freely down his testicles to be soaked up by the towel beneath them. She removed his wildly pulsating cock for a moment, the cool rush of afternoon air making Paul moan with tingling pleasure, and she took hold of it with one hand and stroked it hard up and down, up and down, as she coated his balls with sweeps of her hot hungry mouth, her full red lips bending to catch as much of his fragrant flesh as possible. Paul moaned again and raised his leg, making Della move over him more fully; and then she squatted over him, her legs on either side of his head, her nakedly widespread cunt mashed down against his face, while she trailed her tongue along his foreskin. She continued to stroke him, to squeeze and jerk his massively hardened shaft with her hand, the tantalizing beat making him squirm and lift his legs to expose the crinkled little brown star of his ass.

Della licked along the cord like ridge between his widespread buttocks, circling tauntingly around his tightly puckered anal opening, painting his inner thighs with the saliva of her love, then stiffening her tongue and ramming it into the crinkled sphincter of his ass. All the while her own pubic area was burning with the fire like lashes of his tongue and flaming sweep of his heatedly eager mouth upon her erect clitoral bud and cunt. She was wild with a mindless erotic frenzy, the sensations jolting her belly and loins with almost high voltage intensity and driving her with breakneck speed to a crashing orgasm. God! She had to cum with his beautiful giant cock in her mouth, with her cheeks bloating to the sudden spewing of his mighty cum. She had to taste his warm semen, to suck him dry to the balls! Quickly she trailed her tongue back over his sperm churning scrotum and along his heavy, sheering, blood-infused shaft at its pulsating head, before wetly slipping her tightly ovaled lips down over it again.

Paul groveled in her cunt, her spasmodic up and down fucking rhythm in finely honed tune to his hard thrusting tongue. The abandonment, the complete capitulation to this wonderfully hot bitch overwhelmed him; and the excitement of it all still blotted out any thoughts except the delicious sexual encounter of which he was a willing partner. It had been like a scene from some stag movie or an all too vivid wet dream, it was unbelievable, just to lazily rise from a still-moist bed and move nakedly to the out-of-doors. Dick Green's wife had shown neither remorse nor the slightest hesitation, unlike the still modest wife of his. Della strutted around the house completely naked, her full ripe breasts jiggling proudly, her firmly tanned thighs and cum soaked pubic hair enticing him. The fleeting idea of covering himself seemed like a theory of the Dark Ages, and he, too, found a strange, magical excitement at parading in front of her, his semi hard, still blood engorged cock dangling and swaying pendulously between the lumps of his spent balls.

Then stretching nakedly out under the warm sun,

The free and easy play of hands upon each other in broad daylight, entirely in the open,

These had all been new to Paul, and tremendously arousing! Within seconds, she had made him fully erect again, and then climbed over him, taking his huge pulsating hardness with her hand to lead it into her dilated, wetly gaping pussy. She had fucked him, leaning over him in such a way to enable him to suck the rubbery hard nipples of her softly dangling breasts. Wild . . absolutely, mind blowing wild! And then, just as he was about to shoot yet another stream of sticky cum into her, she had asked him to kiss her cunt and he had happily acquiesced. He was kissing her moistly perfumed pussy now, while she in turn licked and teased his eagerly throbbing penis. How long had he wanted to feel the soft fleece of a woman's pubic area and smell the tangy musk of a hot desire ridden pussy as it blossomed to his mouth, and here, now, with this vibrant sensual female, he was doing just that! If only Marie, his own wife, wanted his kisses, his tongue in her cunt; his cock in her mouth, Oh God! He could feel his lust swollen member flow along the inner roof of the strange mouth, and a moan began to build deep, deep within his chest.

He breathed hard and blew into her, the proud cheeks of her smoothly rounded ass clenching, then relaxing in front of his excited face. He pried her spread loins wider, pushing his mouth hard up against the sweet wetness of her vaginal slit, and she squirmed in ecstasy. He drew her over him so that her wetly palpitating, soft pussy was sunk deep upon his nose and lips. Then holding her tight around the hips, so she couldn't slip away, he thrust his thick, wet tongue forward between the warm fleshy vaginal as far as it would go. He heard her gasp excitedly and renew her nibbling with frenzied motion. She jerked forward with his hot teasing contact, quickly screwing herself down upon him harder. Her heated palpitating vaginal passage contracted, opening and closing around his tongue like a tight rubber band, until he had a difficult time breathing. His breath exploded into her with tiny, mewling grunts, that muffled themselves into oblivion, and then he spread her still wider with his palms and began to eagerly curl and flick his tongue at the expanse of her pearl white backside. He sucked and licked while she wantonly ground her ass around his face, almost out of control.

Her wildly twitching cunt flowered open wider, her secretions cascading down her sleek inner thighs and his chin while he ran his tongue around and around her stretched vaginal opening. He could feel her muscles hollow and contract around his head and sides of his cheeks, and he plunged slave like, his tongue making wet sluicing sounds as it burrowed deeper into her excited young cunt with each wicked thrust. The tantalizing odor which assailed his sex flared nostrils was a bubbling mixture of her pussy and its deepest lubrications, her thin sweat filmed skin, and the orifice of her ass. He lifted his lashing tongue from the oral fucking he was giving her warm, slick pussy and he moved along to the little brown anal ring, rimming the crinkled edge and darting inside with stabbing thrusts that brought shrieks of wild delight from her suddenly insane body. Then he returned, licking the softly throbbing cuntal lips and plunged into the wet pink layers to discover her tremblingly erect clit. He began to suck and tease it unmercifully, his teeth biting tenderly, his tongue reaming the little button of love, while she churned and writhed above him in the lewd dance of unholy desire. She was almost ready to cum!

He rammed his tongue deep down around her writhing hole, rounding and covering her viscous opening to bring yet further guttural moans from her cock filled mouth. Her soft warm thighs clenched him viciously, and he could feel her wet flesh slip moistly around his tongue as if the nibbling, hair lined mouth was trying to snap and rip out his tongue by the roots, devouring it completely with all its might. She snaked her heels against his shoulders and rubbed her hotly palpitating pussy against his face as he licked the tormented, flame seared vagina. The cords of her muscles stood out all along her nakedly writhing body and she sucked savagely, almost painfully, on his penis with an everincreasing vacuum and strokes.

Then suddenly she stiffened, and Paul heard her mumble, "AAAAAAGGGGGGH! "I'm... I'm going to... going to cum!"

Her whole being seemed to explode over him, and he could no longer hold his climax. My God! he thought crazily as the rush of sperm threatened to burst along its narrow tube, my God, its never, been this good, before! And he knew, with a great jolt of lewd excitement, that he was about to cum in her mouth!

"I'm... I'm cuuuummmmmniiinnnnnggg!"

Paul knew she was straining to climax, and then she began to wantonly twist and wrench herself, her teeth biting his cock like a dog chewing a bone as he continued to pillage her loins. The juices of her milking cunt flowed, and she arched her back and bucked wildly, her body quaking uncontrollably. Torrents of lubricating fluid spread its sticky warmth over his face and down his cheeks, as she grunted out her mind shattering orgasm. In spite of her sawing movement as she suddenly thrust deep over his cock, absorbing it to its hilt in her mouth as the first hot rain of his molten sperm volcanoed into her throat.

Della's head bobbed furiously over his thick erupting shaft as she hungrily sucked the hot shooting jets of his semen, her tightly ovaled mouth salivating as though his cum was the very essence of existence, and she felt him jerk and groan in forbidden delight beneath her as he rammed his wildly jerking penis yet deeper in her throat. His heatedly pulsating cock continued its wild ejaculation, the vengeance of his seething hot semen drenching her gullet. Della groaned as she sucked and her Adam's apple bobbed rapidly in its fevered attempt to control the gushing stream which squirted so hotly and without let up into her. She clenched her lips in a tight elastic ring around the long jumping penis so as not to lose one precious drop, and she twirled her tongue around the throbbing head to make room for the seemingly unending torrent, until she thought his balls were bottomless wells. His groans of pleasure incited her to greater effort, and then, with one final spewing, his cock began to slowly deflate in her soft warm mouth. She waited a moment, hoping for more, then lifted her head, his penis sliding from her cum glistening lips with a wet sucking sound. She turned and smiled at Paul, who grinned contentedly in return. A trail of semen dribbled down her lips and chin, dropping like a thick white spider web to his belly. And the lewd sight was so exciting that he felt the first tentative stirrups of a resurrection and, miraculously knew he could go again, anytime she was ready.

"What are we going to do about, them?" Dick Green asked as he and Marie sat in the living room of the Maxwell's home. His voice was calm and low, but held a hint of menace. The real, inner emotion of high elation was well hidden.

"Oh, my God, I just don't know!" Marie dropped her head into her hands, tears streaming down her burning cheeks, her eyes dim with agony. She sobbed like a small child. "I never thought Paul would, do, such a thing!"

"Your husband is quite the stud," Dick said caustically.