Crossing Over
(M+/f+, best, size, rel)

by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.org

I wonder why it is, Jeannette Delray thought quizzically to herself, that nothing in life ever turns out quite the way you think it will? Take me, for instance, a born and bred New Englander - what am I doing in Magnolia, Arkansas? I'm not even sure I like the South (perhaps 'approve of' was more the term), yet here I am practically committed to spending the rest of my life here! Once Ray gets his partnership we'll be committed for sure.

Funny, how the expression had slipped into both their vocabularies so that one or the other of them seemed to use it several times a day. Once we get the partnership. Will our lives really change so radically, and for the better, when the magic day comes? As a matter of black and white practicality they would. We know what the drugstore grosses every year, and the net. Half that net will be ours, not just a salary. A salary that was far too low considering what pharmacists were making elsewhere, even taking into account that this apartment over the store was thrown in free of rent and utilities. Ray, of course, wouldn't see that he could be making twice as much in Camden or Hot Springs, or anywhere else in the country. And as Jeannette pointed out, that they could save the necessary capital twice as fast.

"But then I wouldn't get this chance, the option that I have by working here!"

"Do you mean an option in writing, like on a piece of property?" Jeannette's pretty brow wrinkled slightly.

"No, not an option in the literal sense. I meant the agreement between me and John Chandler that I can come in as a full partner."

"And you have only his word on that?" the tiny furrows creased deeper and her clear grey eyes were disturbed, "No witnesses or anything?"

"Honey, that's the way business is done in small Southern towns, just by sort of talking things over. When the time comes, we'll draw up some kind of agreement. You have to remember that things are slow-paced here."

She would grant that. Things were snail-paced in Magnolia, in fact, and if it wasn't for the appointments of her piano pupils she often would not know what day of the week it was. Yet to see Ray so happy and absorbed in his work was worth it all, she felt. Traditionally a wife was the helpmate of her husband and should make the sacrifices and endure the necessary hardships to give him his start.

When they had met on the campus, Ray had made his prospects clear from the very beginning. His parents were dirt-poor farmers from the mountain area of Arkansas and he was attending school through a scholarship and money he had saved while in the army. Jeannette was not wealthy by any means, but certainly better off financially and in family background. They had married during their senior year and moved to Magnolia right after graduation. Ray had been recruited with glowing promises by John Chandler, he needed a pharmacist immediately; the old man who had the job had died and the local residents had to go ten miles to the county seat to have prescriptions filled. In answer to Ray's questions about a share in the business he said he would be willing to take in a partner as soon as Ray could raise "a little cash to bind the deal" as he was occupied with other business interests and did not like to work in the store himself.

Jeannette never forgot her first look at Magnolia. It was little more than a crossroads, actually, with a square in the center of town where the roads met. The important stores and churches were located on the square, with a grassy park and the Confederate monument in the center. Stretching beyond that were a few blocks of houses in each direction along the shady quiet streets, and then the shabby, haphazardly-placed houses of the black people. A half-mile out of town was a new subdivision of rambling brick homes where the younger business and professional people lived and entertained each other with rounds of barbecues and cocktail parties.

The social position of the Delrays was not yet clearly defined. Ray had joined the Jaycees and Jeannette had been invited to some women's meetings, but they were not really "in," another fact which she found galling. It was difficult to accept invitations or to entertain because of the long hours Ray worked and their shabby old apartment. Jeannette had painted and done a lot of fixing, but it was still dreary and depressing with its old-fashioned high ceilings and antiquated plumbing fixtures.

When they got the partnership they would buy a lot in Hickory Acres - their credit would be good then for a home building loan from the local bank. And they could afford to have a baby.

If we're still sleeping together, she said to herself. Oh, God, what makes me think of things like that? We'll be sleeping together, we're husband and wife, and that's one of the most important things about marriage, isn't it? Yet after a year and a half together, the inexorable truth was that their sexual relationship was getting worse, not better. Since they had settled into the routine of their life in Magnolia, particularly, Ray initiated the sexual act less and less frequently. Jeannette never made advances to him, of course; she felt that was the man's prerogative and in any case her own sex drive seemed to be rather low, she could live with or without it, actually it was just a little bit distasteful to her, the whole messy thing. But she did worry about Ray's satisfaction and whether it was normal for him to so often be too tired or preoccupied.

Just last Sunday afternoon there had been a peculiar episode. She had been washing the lunch dishes while Ray sat in the living room reading the paper. Jeannette had not heard him enter the kitchen until the moment when he seized her around the waist. Of course she screamed and then laughed and they stood there together for a moment. Then Ray's hands had slipped upward to cup her firmly rounded breasts and she felt his lips nuzzling the back of her neck as he squeezed and kneaded the pliant, resilient flesh under his fingers. It wasn't that she didn't like to be caressed in that way, but her hands were wet and soapy and she didn't want to ruin his clean shirt, they were going for a drive as soon as she finished the dishes.

So she had continued with her work and acknowledged his presence only with a brief affectionate smile tossed over her shoulder at her young husband. He had kept his hands on her breasts and pressed closer behind her until she was wedged firmly between his body and the sink and his loins were up tight against the ample spheres of her asscheeks. Suddenly she was uncomfortably aware that Ray had an erection and the hard throbbing bulk of his ten-inch penis was pressing into the crevice at the end of her spine. Perversely, her only reaction was annoyance.

Why on earth, at such an inappropriate time? A peaceful Sunday afternoon and they were almost ready to go out. She set the last saucepan in the drain and pulled the plug, still pretending not to notice Ray's obvious arousal although his penis was now digging into her to the point of widening the split between the two soft fleshy cheeks of her asscheeks. His hands slipped from her taut-stretched nipples and began to work up under her apron, massaging her flat little belly while from the rear he slowly rubbed his loins against her with insinuating pressure.

"Jeannette," his warm breath stirred in her left car, "let's go in the bedroom, honey!"

"Oh, Ray," she protested gently, "here I've been hurrying to get ready while you read the paper, and now you want to fool around."

"Who's fooling around? I mean business, I'm horny as hell!"

"Ray!" she hated that vulgar expression. "I just don't understand why - I mean, of all times," it was difficult to hold her voice steady when his fingers had reached her pubic mound and were moving over the sensitive area in a slowly rotating motion that despite her annoyance was making her feel curiously weak and warm up between her legs. At that moment the wall telephone rang.

"Damn it to hell!" her husband cursed with surprising ferocity.

Jeannette twisted in his grip, "A - aren't you going to answer it?"

He shook his head and resumed his lewd probing of his wife's trembling loins. "It's my day off."

"But it may be a customer needing a prescription."

The phone kept on ringing insistently as the young couple stood there locked in an obscene embrace with Ray's hand thrust up between his wife's legs. Then, abruptly - almost roughly - he released her and pushed her away as he moved to snatch the telephone receiver.

It was a customer, a heart patient, who had just discovered he was out of the digitalis pills he must take daily.

"All right," Ray said wearily, "Come down to the store in about fifteen minutes. No - no free delivery nights or Sundays, only during regular store hours. You can send a taxi if you don't feel like coming yourself, Mr. Pickett."

Jeannette was already busy drying her hands. "We could drop the pills off, we'll be out in the car anyway," she whispered to Ray, but he was already hanging up. She carefully avoided looking at the front of his slacks where she knew the tell-tale bulge still pushed out the fly in an incongruous manner. He was glaring coldly at her.

"Be damned if we will. If he took his last pill yesterday, why couldn't he come in then for a refill? Because he enjoys making a big emergency deal out of it!" He strode angrily out of the room and she heard him go noisily down the stairs to open the drug store.

Poor dear, he'd been working entirely too many hours, and should at least have one day of rest in the week. It seemed so unfair that John Chandler should reap all the profits of the drug store when he did nothing more than go over the books occasionally, while Ray was on his feet from nine to six with an additional three hours on Friday night. And nearly every evening there was a call for a rush prescription, usually a child suddenly taken sick. There was of course Minnie, the efficient spinster who clerked in the front of the store and supervised the moronic teenagers who came and went at the soda fountain. But the burden of the purchasing and inventory, as well as the busy pharmacy department, fell on Ray.

When they finally did set out in their old hardtop, however, his usual good humor seemed to have returned. They had long since explored every road leading out of Magnolia, for these rides were their chief recreational outlet, but still it was interesting to observe the countryside at different seasons of the year. The spring was Jeannette's favorite time, it was so much more lush than a New England spring and came a full two months earlier. Now, at the end of a dry summer, there seemed to be a dusty haze in the air and a sleepiness had settled over the scorching red-clay fields.

They drove first to Hickory Acres to inspect the newly- staked-out lots in the undeveloped portion of the subdivision.

"Someone's bought the corner one," she touched her husband's arm and pointed to the sign which was slashed diagonally by a bright yellow strip bearing the letters SOLD.

"Yeah, so I see. But that's the only one. They're not moving so fast, what with the recession," Ray was careful not to voice their unspoken fear that the lot of their choice might be purchased by someone else first. They got out of the car and went through the ritual of pacing off where the house would sit and where the front door would be.

The rest of the day Jeannette remembered had gone quite smoothly. They had a light supper and spent the evening watching TV. When the late news came on Jeannette had gone ahead and showered as she liked her shower or bath at night whereas Ray preferred one in the morning. When he came into the bedroom she was already in bed, with only the sheet pulled over her. In her fresh cotton baby- doll nightie she looked like a child, except for the outline of her high curving breasts that protruded provocatively over the fold of the sheet and faint dip of the "vee" between her legs where the light material bunched.

Ray stripped in a rapid, business-like way and stood naked beside her for a few seconds; he never wore pajamas, it was a habit she simply could not talk him out of. In the brief interval before his hand touched the light switch and plunged the room into darkness, Jeannette's wide grey eyes rested lovingly on his tall, lanky form. She did love every inch of him, from the black hair that had a habit of falling over his right eye, to his big-boned hands that could be so gentle, right down to his size twelve feet! (In her mental inventory, Jeannette passed hurriedly over her husband's genitals which now hung down flaccidly between his hairy legs but were still impressive in their proportions.)

She snuggled closer to him as he climbed into the bed and stretched out beside her, almost positive that they would make love tonight since he had been so eager for sex that afternoon. She was determined to try very hard to enjoy the act this time, yes, even the last of it when he filled her with his messy, sticky cum!

But Ray seemed to have entirely forgotten about the incident and apparently sex was not on his mind tonight. He lay on his back for a few moments, then rolled over with an affectionate pat delivered to her backside. "G'night, honey."

"G-goodnight, darling," she whispered back timidly. She felt surprised and oddly tense as she lay there beside his warm naked body and almost wanted to reach over and stroke him or somehow indicate her willingness. She didn't want to make any brazen announcement, however, and after a while she knew by his slow deep breathing that Ray had fallen asleep.

She really couldn't imagine why she was dwelling on the events of last Sunday, except it seemed to mark some kind of turning point in their deteriorating sexual relationship, as though her rejection that afternoon had really discouraged her husband. But that was absurd, they were still practically newlyweds and only needed time to make these adjustments and solve whatever problems had arisen. It wasn't a problem in as far as she was concerned, although she found sex disappointing and not very enjoyable at best, she would go through with it a reasonable amount of times for Ray's sake. She and Ray might have different temperaments, but each respected the other's desires and interests. For instance, Ray had not wanted her to give up her music and had bought an old upright piano for her to practice on and to instruct her half-dozen pupils. Why, Lord, she had a pupil coming for a lesson in twenty minutes, and here she was sitting around daydreaming! She began to move automatically around the living room, straightening up.

In the drugstore below, Ray Delray had for once caught up on the list of prescriptions to be filled and they sat along the counter in a neat row while he worked on the wholesale orders at the old-fashioned desk. Suddenly he heard a gravely southern accent from the front of the store and recognized it immediately as John Chandler's voice.

"How 'do, Miss Minnie! You doin' all right?" and then without waiting for her answer, "Good, good!"

Chandler breezed by the soda fountain with a lecherous wink at the clerk, "Honey, bring me and Mister Delray some cokes with lots of ice, child, lots of ice."

He eased his considerable bulk behind the prescription counter, "Hi there, Ray - you doin' all right?"

"Just fine, John," Ray said placidly, in the knowledge that business was good and getting steadily better. He pulled up a chair for the older man. Chandler was sweating, staining his immaculate light blue sports shirt, and he took out a handkerchief and passed it over his ruddy face and thick shock of graying hair. He was a handsome man of about fifty, beginning to show unmistakable signs of overindulgence in good food and drink but still fit and powerful looking.

"Another hot one," he sighed. "We sure do need some rain awful bad. All my sweet corn is just dryin' up, just parchin' under that sun."

"Is that what you raise out there, corn?" Ray asked, waiting for his boss to come around to the purpose of his visit.

"Oh, I raise a little bit of this and that. Main thing, course, is my beef cattle. I'm just a gentleman farmer, and I guess that's a good thing, because it's hard to make money at farming these days."

The girl appeared with two large cokes and Chandler nudged Ray's elbow. "Look at that," he said in a husky undertone, "Just look at that sweet little ass on that child!" It was true that the girl's nylon mini uniform barely cleared her tender, youthful asscheeks. Ray had actually been too busy to notice her nubile figure before. Chandler opened the lower desk drawer and brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey he kept there. He added a generous slug of the amber liquid to each coke.

"Course you got yourself something a lot nicer than that right upstairs," he continued in an aggrieved tone, "Why, man, you're practically still on your honeymoon. But when you get to be my age you sure will appreciate those cute, raunchy little teenagers, let me tell you!" he pushed one of the drinks toward Ray.

"I don't like to drink in the store," Ray said doubtfully as he picked it up. "You know - old ladies come in and smell it on your breath, they spread it all over town that you've taken to drink."

"You're a smart man, Ray," John Chandler said admiringly. "Yes sir, always lookin' ahead, a damn smart man. You know, I just got the bad news the other day that I'm gonna have to cut down on the brew myself. Yep, just found out that my blood pressure's gone sky-high. Old Doc wasn't one bit encouraging, said I'm headed straight for a heart attack if I don't slow down and take things easy. Fact is, that's why I stopped by."

Ray Delray had a sudden premonition that something might be wrong, just from the way Chandler's guileless blue eyes were roving over the shelves of pharmaceuticals and avoiding his face.

"It looks like I have to think about retiring long before I'm sixty-five," the older man continued, "or sort of semi-retiring, I'm only going to keep hold of the properties that'll work for me without me working on them, see what I mean?"

Ray shook his head and waited to hear what was coming next.

"No, I reckon you don't. Well, take this store, for instance. Since you took over it runs pretty smooth, I certainly got to admit that, but there's still the bookkeeping and figuring the taxes. I want to get shut of it. Instead of taking in a partner, I've decided to sell out, Ray - the whole works."

There was a moment of absolute silence. Then Ray took a hefty swallow of the sweet, whiskey-laced cola. "T-the building, too?" Chandler's stunning announcement had caught him so suddenly that it was taking him several seconds to assimilate the knowledge and what it would mean for him.

"Oh, not the building. You won't catch me selling a piece of prime real estate that's right on the square. No, I mean the inventory, all the fixtures, the good will, everything that's inside these four walls. Then I'll give the buyer a long-term lease," he smiled at Ray, "You know, I was really lookin' forward to us working as partners, carrying out your ideas for remodeling, but when I got the word from Doc I knew I just had to think of my health first. And there's Laura - I don't want to up and die and leave her a widow."

"Yes, sure," Ray said, his mind going inevitably to Jeannette's worried questions, nothing in writing? You only have his word for it? He felt curiously light and hollow, as if the support had been knocked out of him. How could he tell her? How could he ever tell Jeannette?

"Have you, uh," he cleared his throat, "Have you set a price?"

Chandler settled himself firmly in the wooden chair and tilted the creaking piece of furniture back on two legs. "Well," he crunched the ice from his drink loudly between his teeth, "I'm thinking in the neighborhood of fifty thousand, Ray."

"F-fifty?"

"Think about the inventory. You know yourself what's sitting here in the inventory."

Ray knew. He also knew that much of it, including the last big drug order, was not paid for yet. Still - perhaps it was a fair price. Although it seemed an astronomical sum, especially since Chandler had promised to make him a partner as soon as he had $5000. By putting $200 in the bank every month, he had already saved $2800, he was more than halfway there, but now he wondered whether Chandler would have held to the bargain, after all? "B-but, John, over the next few years your profits from the store will be much more than that. I can run everything - you wouldn't have to spend any time here at all unless you wanted to."

"There's something in what you say," the big man admitted, "Only the thing is, Ray, that I'll be spending my winters in Florida from now on, buyin' myself one of these condominium apartments right on the beach, and me and Laura are fixin' to go down there just as soon as I get everything straightened out here. Now those apartments cost a heap of money and I got to raise some cash, ever'body thinks I'm a real rich son of a bitch, I don't complain, but the fact is it's all tied up in real estate. Naturally we couldn't sell the farm - it's the old Sanderson place, belonged to Laura's folks since God knows when - and we'll live there summers or whenever we take a notion to come back to town. And like I already said, I don't want to part with any property in the business district. 'Bout the only thing left is this drugstore."

"I see," Ray nodded, trying to control his wildly spiraling doubts and thoughts, "How much - how much time will I have, in case I could maybe make some kind of deal to buy the place?"

"That would please me very much, if you see yourself in a position to buy. Well, I hope to get down there to Florida around the first of November, so that leaves about two months. I, uh, I already had one offer, Ray, and they agreed to meet that price I mentioned. I won't say who the offer was from, but it's a big chain of discount drugstores."

As Chandler sipped his drink and continued to unfold the story, Ray Delray felt a rising anger that blotted out caution and made calm speech impossible. "Look here, John," he pointed out, "You know I graduated at the top of my class. I had my choice of jobs and this was the lowest-paid of all, but I took it, for just one reason. I wanted to own my own business, and that's what you promised me - and I thought you'd be as good as your word!"

"Now hold on, son," Chandler tried to protest, but Ray plunged wildly on, raising his voice so that he could be heard throughout the store.

"Now you tell me that you've been dealing behind my back to sell the business right out from under me! Why, I don't think you ever had any intention of keeping our agreement; you just wanted to hire a cheap pharmacist!"

"That's enough, Ray," Chandler's voice was still mild, but his pale blue eyes glittered with a cold light and his florid face had reddened to a deeper shade. He stood up. "You better simmer down before you say something you're going to regret later on. I know you're disappointed and I'm not sayin' you don't have maybe some right to be. But I had no way of knowing my health was going to fold up on me, so to speak. Why, when I brought you down here I was lookin' forward to us running the store for years to come, and I'll be very happy if you can raise the money to buy me out. You're well thought of here in Magnolia, you and your little wife, and if I was you I wouldn't want to spoil that reputation by gettin' all hotheaded. I'll be talking to you later."

He turned on his heel and strolled through the store in a leisurely manner as if they had discussed nothing more important than the weather. Ray stared after the retreating figure, his fists clenched unconsciously, until Chandler passed through the front door. Then he reached for the bottle of whiskey, poured a double shot into his coke, tilted his head back and drank.

He was thankful for the sound of the faltering piano notes that could be faintly heard from upstairs, Jeannette had a pupil, he could postpone giving her the news at least for a little while. He didn't have to tell her at all today, of course, but he knew that he would. As much as he loved Jeannette, he wondered if it would have been better to wait a few years before marrying. A man had no business getting married before he was making a good income and could provide the things girls had come to expect. Why should Jeannette be penalized, not able to have a modern house with nice furniture and the latest appliances, or pretty new clothes? They'd never even had a real honeymoon, a thing which Ray bitterly regretted most of all. Because maybe their sex life would have gotten off to a better start if he had been able to take his inexperienced young bride to some romantic, relaxing spot for the first few nights. Instead of staying in some plush hotel or motel with a pool, they'd moved directly into a grubby little campus apartment that was as bad as the one they lived in now. Her folks had been very upset, they'd wanted the couple to wait at least until graduation, they hadn't given Jeannette any presents or any financial help at all except paying her college fees for the rest of the year. No, they hadn't wanted their daughter to throw herself away on some no-account southerner!

It seemed ironic now that the quality about Jeannette which had first attracted him to her was a sort of coolness about her, something that said "don't touch me." He was sure that Jeannette was one of the very few virgins on the campus, which had indeed proved to be the case. Fiercely proud as he was, it was important to Ray that his wife should be a woman whom no other man besides himself had ever possessed, or ever would possess!

Once they were married, though, he had looked for a change in her standoffish attitude. He knew she loved him and had been eager to marry as soon as possible. He had mistakenly believed she was just as eager for the physical side of marriage, but from the first night, sex had been a fiasco, his bride seemed to turn into a lump of ice under him. Maybe it took more time than he'd realized, especially for a girl brought up in a very conventional manner as Jeannette had been.

Absently, he carried the empty cola cups out to the soda fountain. The girl reached out to take them, tossing the paper liners into the trash can and stacking the gleaming metal bases expertly on a shelf. "Something else for you, Mr. Delray?" she inquired solicitously, her made-up dark eyes bright with curiosity. No doubt she'd overheard the row with John Chandler.

"Uh, no, thanks," he stared at her. God, he couldn't even remember the little tart's name; she was new, long black hair fixed into an elaborately artificial set and a long slender body that seemed far too mature for her sixteen or so years. Ray ran his suddenly dry tongue around his mouth, it must be the whiskey, sweet little ass, Chandler had said, Christ, it was a beautiful ass, perfectly outlined by the electrically clinging nylon fabric, and all at once he found himself wondering what it would be like to rip the skimpy uniform off the girl, spread her legs out.

Drops of sweat beaded on Ray's brow. Yes, how would it feel to ram his cock into that soft little belly? Christ, he groaned inwardly, how could he think of such things when he had a beautiful young wife upstairs at this very moment? He hadn't so much as looked at another girl since he married Jeannette.

Yet as he stood there in confusion, he was uncomfortably aware that his cock had in mere seconds responded to his lewd thoughts about the soda fountain waitress and it was now lying heavily against his stomach, fully erect. Turning hastily, he retreated to the prescription department. God, what would happen to his "good name" in this town if he started making passes at his clerks? As he sat there staring blankly at the forgotten list for the wholesale house, Miss Minnie suddenly entered the little cubicle, her face flushed with excitement. "Mr. Delray!" she blurted, "He's going to sell the store, isn't he?"

"I..." obviously she knew something was up, so why evade her question? "That's what he's talking about, yes."

"I knew it! I knew the other day that something was wrong. Mr. Chandler brought some men from Memphis in, they was going all over everything, asking questions."

"When was that?" Ray inquired.

"Well, you wasn't here. Must have been the day you were in the city. See, he made sure to bring 'em when you wouldn't be around!"

"Look," Ray said, "I'm sure it's as much of a shock to you as it is to me, Miss Minnie. More, because you've worked here a lot longer than I have. But I don't think you have anything to worry about. Whoever the - the new owner is, he'll need employees, and there's no one who knows the store like you do."

"Mmmhmm, and what about you, Mr. Delray?"

He shrugged unhappily. "I don't know. We'll just have to see. If I can't get at least part ownership, then I don't want to work for someone else. I can do that anywhere, for a hell of a lot more money!"

When Ray came upstairs that night, a half hour after closing time, Jeannette sensed immediately that something was wrong. It was in the defeated slump of his shoulders and the bleak gloominess of his face. But she said nothing, waiting for him to tell her about it. She had fixed him a good dinner for the hot weather, cold sliced ham, snap beans, macaroni salad and cornbread. Jeannette was proud that she was learning to cook in the southern way.

But her husband only picked at the tempting food she loaded on his plate, and halfway through the tense meal he suddenly laid his fork down and announced to her, "Chandler's selling the drugstore - to a discount chain."

"W-what?" Jeannette stammered, her heart plummeting, "But he can't do that, Ray! Where did you hear it?"

When he told her she kept on shaking her head in disbelief, "I just can't understand how he could do such a thing." She pushed her chair back abruptly and came around to her husband's side, taking him in her arms and holding him protectively against her warm body as if she were comforting a child, "Don't you care, Ray!" she said fiercely, "Don't you worry about it for one minute. Oooh, I never trusted him - that smooth-talking old hypocrite!"

She meant to soften the blow, to bolster his crushed feelings. Unfortunately, her action and choice of words only brought home to Ray more strongly his feeling of failure. The husband should be the one to comfort the wife and shield her from life's harsh realities - not the other way around. And then to rub salt in his wounds she had to say that she had seen through John Chandler all the time whereas he had been taken in by the glowing promises.

In fact, Jeannette's thoughts were racing rapidly into the future, her only sorrow was for Ray. Why, it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened, after all. They had money in the bank, now they could leave Magnolia and make a whole new start somewhere else, somewhere more lively and stimulating. But one glimpse at the desperately unhappy face of her husband sent these hopeful thoughts crashing into limbo. Ray had to make it here, he had to prove himself in exactly the way that he had set out to do.

"Darling," she said gently, "maybe we can buy the store. I mean how do we know unless we try? It is a lot of money, but everyone here knows you, Mr. Sanderson at the bank is John Chandler's brother-in-law, you know. I'm sure he'd consider loaning you the money, Mr. Chandler could talk to him, why, everyone in town likes you!"

"That isn't exactly security for fifty thousand bucks," he pointed out grimly, "But, you're right, I guess. It won't do any harm to ask - we've got to know where we stand."

Ray did not fall asleep easily that night, but Jeannette lay awake long after he finally dropped off. It seemed that the crisis had awakened all her instincts, she was prepared to fight for her man, to do anything to insure that he got what he wanted. She believed she had an idea, although she'd never been able to bring herself to completely trust Mr. Chandler, she must admit that his manner toward her had always been extremely courteous and friendly. In fact, he had treated her with real old-fashioned southern politeness and had been very solicitous about whether she was happily settled in Magnolia and liked his community.

Somehow she felt that, well, that she might have more influence with him than Ray would. Ray was apt to get hotheaded, as he admitted he had this afternoon. If only he hadn't really alienated John Chandler, perhaps she could persuade him to change his mind about selling out, or at the very least enlist his aid in getting them a loan. He would not be so bluntly business-like with a woman, she felt, and she did not mind begging for Ray's sake. Yes, she must manage to see John Chandler alone, and without Ray's knowledge of the meeting. God, Ray would kill her if he even guessed what she was thinking!

Arranging to see her husband's boss was not so easy, however, Jeannette Delray found. He did maintain an office over the bank, but it was a sort of dummy office. There was no secretary and you could never tell when Chandler himself would be there. Jeannette took to watching the square from her front windows for a glimpse of the tobacco-colored station wagon that he drove.

Meanwhile she tried to persuade Ray that it would not do to present their case too hastily at the bank, they must be organized with all the figures on the store's volume of business, show that Ray was a capable administrator. Her poor darling had been going around like a zombie ever since that day he found out about the sale of the store. She just couldn't understand why it meant so much to him, after all, he was a young man, only twenty-six, how could anyone be a failure at twenty-six? She supposed it had something to do with being poor as a child, wanting something other than farming, no doubt the business people with whom Ray's family had to deal, and beg credit from, had seemed to a child like the very pillars of the economy or something. Her own father, a moderately successful salesman, had never worried about working for others, but Ray had this craving, this obsession, to be his own boss.

On Friday afternoon before the Labor Day weekend she at last saw the brown station wagon parked opposite the bank and knew that here was her opportunity. At first she thought of telephoning to ask for an appointment, but she nervously dropped the phone back on the cradle after dialing three numbers. She hurried into the bedroom, unzipping her dress as she walked, and let it fall to the floor. She selected a sheer pale yellow dress that seemed ladylike and fresh, though a trifle short. Then she released her long ash-brown hair from its pony tail and hastily brushed it down over her shoulders. She realized that this made her look younger, perhaps, she thought, surveying herself in the mirror, she had gotten a trifle heavier since marriage, although it certainly had not harmed her looks. It only made the dress cling faithfully to every curving high-point of her figure. On the hanger it had seemed so demure and simple, but now when it was stretched over her high thrusting breasts and caressing her soft fluid hipline, the dress was almost blatantly sexy. It would do nicely, she thought, for the purpose of charming John Chandler onto their side. She hastily buckled on white sandals, dabbed a touch of lipstick on her small, prettily curved mouth and picked up her purse.

She hurried down the stairs and out of their private entrance which fortunately did not open into the drugstore. God, it was hot, she would be perspiring before she had crossed the square! One of the things Jeannette disliked about Magnolia was that everyone knew your business, since everyone's business was transacted on the square - bank, doctor's office, finance company or whatever. Hopefully she would not be observed entering the side door that led to the rooms over the bank, although of course she had a perfect right to go there if she wished. She reached the entrance without meeting anyone she knew and let herself into the gloomy hallway. The sagging old oiled wood stairs creaked beneath her light tread.

John Chandler's office door stood open. Evidently he had been looking for something, as his desk was strewn with papers. As Jeannette reached his doorway he looked up, face blank for only a second. Then he smiled in welcome.

"Why, hi there, Miz Delray! You doin' all right?"

"Fine, thank you," she acknowledged, all her courage abruptly deserting her.

"Well, just come right in. You, uh, lookin' for me?"

"Yes, if you're not busy, I would like to talk with you for a few minutes." As she moved toward the chair he indicated, Jeannette nearly tripped over a big black and tan German Shepherd that had been completely concealed by the desk. "Oh!" she exclaimed nervously, and the animal raised its head and regarded her alertly although not otherwise moving from its reclining position.

"That's just Drake," Chandler chuckled, "You 'fraid of dogs, Miz Delray?"

"N-no, I love dogs," she laughed self-consciously, "He startled me, that's all." She reached down to stroke the dog's glossy head. She had seen the magnificent animal before, usually looking out the rear window of the station wagon. Jeannette crossed her shapely bare legs and folded her hands demurely in her lap, looking directly into the ruddy, handsome face of her husband's boss.

"Mr. Chandler, Ray - Ray and I are very disappointed about your decision to sell the drugstore. That's what I want to talk to you about. Ray doesn't know that I'm here, it was entirely my own idea to come, s-so I hope you won't say anything to him about it."

"Well, now, is that a good idea, for a nice little wife to keep secrets from her husband?" he drawled, but from his understanding smile Jeannette knew he was only teasing her. In fact, his easy-going informality was putting her more and more at ease, so she plunged on.

"No, of course it isn't, but I guess wives have always, interfered a little bit, when they thought it was necessary. You see, I understand my husband so much better than anyone else does. He's very proud - too proud to come right out and tell you how much he wants to own that drugstore, or at least be a partner. I'm sure you know that's why we decided to come here in the first place," she made this last remark rather pointed and then looked up anxiously to see whether it had offended him. Apparently not, for he was still smiling in a kindly way. He seemed to be staring at her legs and she shifted her position a bit in the chair and tugged her skirt down before continuing, "Ray is going to ask the bank for a loan, to buy you out. I - I'm sure that your, your help, your recommendation would be very, uh, persuasive to the people at the bank. I believe you're related to the bank president?"

"Brother-in-law," John Chandler said, nodding, "Lee Sanderson is my wife's twin."

"Oh, really - twins? I didn't know that."

"'Course that doesn't mean I can tell him how to run his bank," the big man pointed out, "but like you say, my opinion does carry a little weight."

"I'm sure it carries a great deal of weight," Jeannette said warmly, "That's why I came to you. And also, of course, because I feel that I know you, a little, at least. I couldn't have gone to Mr. Sanderson, for instance, with such a request. Will you help us, Mr. Chandler?" Her grey eyes rested pleadingly on his face and she sat forward slightly in her chair, the movement deepening the dark shadowed cleft between her large breasts. Chandler's gaze flicked downward and rested on those twin mounds that were quivering noticeably from her nervousness. Goddamn, he thought, but the girl had a pair of beauties! He could hardly believe that Ray Delray's snotty New England wife was actually sitting here in his office at this moment asking him for a favor. He had always dismissed her as unattainable, no matter how attractive. Now, a bold plan was rapidly taking shape in his devious, cunning mind.

"Look, Miz Delray - may I call you Jeannette?" She nodded breathlessly. "I want to help you, Jeannette. I sure-to-God do!" his husky southern voice oozed sincerity, "and maybe there just might be something I can do. But don't go gettin' your hopes up too high. We all of us business people in this town would like to see Ray running the store. After all, he's a Tennessean, practically a local boy. But these aren't the best of times, I guess you know that, and there's certain rules any bank has to be guided by in making loans. If you start bending those rules too much out of shape then the bank's in trouble."

"Perhaps," she said timidly, "if you feel there's no chance of our getting the loan, you'll reconsider selling and go back to the partnership plan?"

He smiled sadly. "I'm afraid my doctor would have something to say about that, and Laura wouldn't be too happy either. Now if you and I were going to be the partners, that might be different."

Jeannette was at first annoyed that he would joke about a matter which was so very serious to her. She looked at him rather severely and he stared back at her with a direct, disturbing gaze. Good heavens, he couldn't be, he wasn't suggesting, no, she could only treat it as a pleasantry, an inept one. So she smiled at him innocently. She had never really had the opportunity to study John Chandler before at close range. He certainly did not look to be in poor health, nor old enough to retire. Although streaked with grey, his hair was as thick as Ray's and worn in modish sideburns. He was a large man and undeniably a handsome one and his oddly compelling gaze was raking her from head to toe! Jeannette felt the first prickle of discomfort, and feared that he had misunderstood her intentions in coming here. She had hoped of course to take advantage of her feminine position, but not, not by demeaning herself!

"Is there anything you can do for us? Have you any advice?" she asked, growing more uneasy every second that his now frankly lecherous eyes devoured her body. He smiled in answer, slowly and confidently.

"There might be, Jeannette," he paused to let his words sink in. "There just might be. Tell me - what ever made a northern gal like you marry a no-account like Ray Delray?"

"What do you mean, no-account?" she blazed, getting angrily to her feet, "I love Ray!" The dog, Drake, stirred and lifted his head again. "Why, there's not another man in this stupid little town who's got one-tenth of Ray's brains and ambition!"

"Oh, I know all that," he answered mildly, "but he hasn't got any money, any family, any backing. You should have married a man with some position in the world."

"Don't underestimate us, Mr. Chandler," she said icily, "Ray will have position some day, and I'll fight to help him get it."

"Uh-huh. And just how far are you willing to go, honey, to help your husband?"

"Wh-what do you mean?" her pretty face wrinkled into a frown as she tried to fathom the depths of his mind.

"Simple. I've got something you need - influence. And you've got something I could use. Yes sir, something I could make very good use of," his even white teeth flashed at her. "You're a regular little spitfire, but I admire a woman with guts - specially when she comes all tied up in a pretty package like you do."

"I'm afraid I don't understand you," Jeannette said coldly, beginning to move around the desk with her eye on the door. But her heart was plummeting. God, had she ruined everything?

"Let me make it crystal clear, then," Chandler stood up, too. He turned around and closed the door, than faced the trembling young wife. "I like you. And after we got to know each other better, I think you'd like me. As for that husband of yours, I didn't like the way he shot his mouth off the other day and if I do anything to help him get the store it will only be because of his pretty little wife and how nice she is to me."

Jeannette had reached the door but found her path blocked by Chandler's sturdy figure. Her heart was pounding wildly and her beautiful face was flushed with embarrassment and anger. "Let me pass," she snapped, "I can see I've only wasted my time in coming here!"

He reached out and seized her, drawing the full length of her body tightly against his and holding her there, immovable. Gasping with shock, she beat ineffectually at his chest with her little fists, meanwhile feeling his belt buckle digging into her flesh just under her breasts and further down, something hard that poked into her stomach and could only be, oh, God! She was enveloped in the pleasant spicy smell of his shaving lotion as he forced her face upward to meet his. His open mouth enclosed her small lips and his powerful tongue inserted itself between her clenched teeth, pushing, pushing into her throat. With a muffled, strangling cry and with all her strength Jeannette succeeded in twisting away, ducking her head out of the reach of his lewdly thrusting tongue. At the same time she freed her right hand and slapped him just as hard as she could, so that her palm smarted from the impact.

"Ow!" he exclaimed. "Why, you little hellcat!" Instead of being angry, however, he was smiling, laughing down at her as though it was a huge joke. "You'll pay me for that, in spades," he promised, rubbing his reddened cheek. Behind Jeannette the dog, Drake, suddenly let out a sharp bark and she started with fright and surprise.

"Down, boy - stay," John Chandler commanded calmly, grinning wryly at the terrorized girl, "You're damn lucky Drake didn't take a nip at your ass, he didn't know if we were playing or it was for real. I surely would hate to see anything happen to that cute little tail of yours!" He was still holding her loosely and they were both breathing heavily. "I want to see you, very soon, your place?"

"You're crazy!" she sputtered. "I never want to see you again, after this outrageous, this," she couldn't find words to express her contempt for his behavior, "you just wait 'til I tell my husband about this!"

"If you want me to help you, those are the terms. Just call me when you're ready, Jeannette. Your place, or we can go to a motel, personally, I think your apartment is safer, but that's up to you."

"You, are, insane," she hissed, "I have no intention of meeting you anywhere. What you are suggesting is unthinkable - you're married - I'm married. And even if I weren't, the very idea would disgust me!"

"Oh, but you wouldn't find the experience disgusting, honey. I can promise you that you'll love it." His big hands began to move and before she had realized it Jeannette felt her right breast cupped by his widespread fingers, and reacted as though she had received an electric shock. She struck his arms down and reached for the doorknob, her eyes blinded by hot tears of rage. He caught her around the waist as she jerked the door open and passed his offending hand gently over the rounded swell of her asscheeks, whispering hoarsely, "And remember this, Jeannette, if I don't hear from you, then you can be sure Ray won't get the loan!"

She fled at a dangerous speed down the old staircase, stopping in the hallway below only long enough to compose herself sufficiently to step out onto the sidewalk. The sunlight was blinding, the air oppressively still and hot as she made her way back across the square, defeated. John Chandler! She still could not believe it, John Chandler, one of the most important men in town, he and his wife right at the head of the Magnolia social circuit, respected, admired. Ha! And he had dared to kiss her, in the most repulsive way, a suggestive tongue kiss, touched her breast, asked her to meet him! It was the greatest shock of her young life. The old lecher, yes, twice her age, oh, he hadn't come right out and said it in so many words, what he wanted, hadn't put a name to it. God help her, what had she done? And all she'd wanted was to help her adored Ray!

Jeannette reached the security of her own door, unlocked it with fumbling fingers and ran upstairs. She threw herself on the bed, still shaking and quivering although no tears came. She wanted to cry but could not. She was too frightened.

From his dusty window John Chandler had observed her progress every step of the way. Goddamn, he chuckled, look at that little ass sway, she sure is fit to be tied! Look at those legs, gal's got legs like a racehorse, Jesus, I bet she can pump those legs in the sack, too.

Little hellcat! He saw with satisfaction that Jeannette did not enter the drugstore, but went directly to the house entrance. No, she wouldn't be in a hurry to tell Ray about it, it was a hundred-to-one shot that she would tell her husband at all. Because the first thing he'd say would be what were you doing in his office? And Jeannette was smart enough to figure that out. Let it lay for a few days, just as it was. If the snotty little bitch was so crazy about her farmer of a husband, she'd be around. Yes sir, all he had to do was let it lay.

Still smiling, Chandler reached down and patted Drake's furry head. Liked her, didn't you, boy? We might just get ourselves a piece of that, Drake, how about it? Been a while since we had any strange cunt, hasn't it? He seated himself at the big old- fashioned desk again and resumed going through his papers. There was a lot of work to be straightened out before he left for Florida.

Every few minutes he would stop, however, and smile thoughtfully to himself at the way things were working out, falling into place. He had been trying for several seasons now to get Laura to move to Florida for the whole winter. She had proved stubborn on this point and so he had hit on the idea of saying the Doc wanted him to slow down. Actually, Doc's warning had been nowhere near as dire as he went around telling everyone. His blood pressure was up a little, he should eat less, drink less whiskey, quit smoking. As far as retiring, John Chandler hadn't worked an honest day for years anyway, and why should he? If a man had some brains and used them, others would do the work and he could sit back and count the money. Take Ray Delray, now, he would work hard, save all his money, and someday he might own a crummy drugstore! Well, if that was his version of the American Dream, let him go after it.

He had been just as poor as Ray at the same age, and look at where he was now. Of course, the Sandersons hadn't been hillbilly farmers, they were real old southern quality and that still counted for something in Magnolia. If he hadn't come from a good family, Laura's grandmother probably would have had their marriage annulled. She'd been only sixteen while he was twenty-four.

That was the year after the war was over, and he'd just got out of the army and had come home to Magnolia to draw his veteran's unemployment benefits while he looked around for something to do. The Sanderson twins, Lee and Laura, had been children when he went away, now they were seniors in high school and most of the town gossip revolved around the twins. Parents dead and being raised by their grandmother, a fool if there ever was one. Set out to make Laura a southern belle who would have done credit to the Civil War days - innocent, ladylike, sheltered - and naturally the girl had rebelled and turned out just the opposite. Wild! Smoking at thirteen, using words nobody could figure out where she'd learned, and from the age of about fourteen on, putting out to anything in pants. Lee, the boy, wasn't half as bad as his sister but they were both hellions. They were both spoiled rotten and when they turned sixteen that spring, Grandma had to rack her brains to come up with presents they didn't already have. She bought Lee a convertible and promised Laura a trip to Europe. But the girl didn't want to go to Europe, especially since she had to wait until graduation and then go along with Grandma. When her twin got a car, Laura was furious. Somewhere she picked up the basics of driving and was soon sneaking out in Lee's new car whenever she got the chance.

That Saturday night, John Chandler had just come out of the theater and was standing at the curb. Magnolia's only traffic light turned red and he had started across the street when there was a squeal of brakes and a yellow fender dipped to a stop only inches from him. He started to swear, looked up, and the words died,

"Hi, John," Laura said. "I'm sorry if I scared you," she giggled. "It'd be awful to go through the war and then get killed right here on the square, wouldn't it?" She was staring at him with undisguised admiration, he was wearing his tropical-weight uniform and the pocket was crowded with his battle ribbons. The two of them were suddenly a pair of animals, sniffing at the warm flower-perfumed night air in search of excitement. "Can I give you a ride someplace?" her little red lips parted expectantly.

He got into the car beside her, conscious even then that this might be a momentous evening although he did not know that it was going to change the whole course of his life.

Everything he had heard about Laura turned out to be true, and then some. He couldn't believe she was only sixteen, no teenager could possibly acquire the knowledge that was packed into her lithe, hundred-pound body! They had gone directly to a roadhouse a few miles out of town, where Laura insisted on having beer. Evidently she'd also had something to drink before picking him up, she was not drunk, but pretty high. They sat side by side in a booth and suddenly he felt her warm hand on his thigh, moving purposefully upward until it stopped in the "vee" of his legs, cupping his balls. Jesus H. Christ! He nearly choked on his beer as he felt her fingers working down there at his loins, did she know what she was doing to him? A glance at her face with its wicked tittle cat-like smile told him that she did. She leaned over and put her lips against his left ear. "Ooooh, Johnny, have you got a big cock?"

He couldn't have answered her, his heart was beating clear up in his throat like a hammer. So he put his hand down over hers and drew her fingers upward. By God, his cock felt like it was bigger than it ever had been or was ever going to be again, it was throbbing like crazy and ramming against his pants like it was trying to get free, and into her hot little pussy.

"Oh, Lord," she squealed as her hand closed over him, "it is big, Johnny! Now, what are we going to do about that?"

"It's your fault," he told her, "I guess you better figure it out."

"You mean you don't kn-o-o-w?" she drawled in a teasing voice, squeezing his penis and massaging it up and down until he thought he'd go off right there and then.

"You little cock-tease!" he growled, shoving his hand between her legs. Her thighs were smooth and warm and they clamped together over his invading hand, then very gradually opened to allow him to push farther up the forbidden split until his fingers encountered her panties. Chandler remembered feeling that maybe somebody ought to pinch him and wake him up, this had to be a dream, sitting here with the Laura Sanderson, feeling each other up in full view of anyone who wanted to look and be goddamned if he could tell which of the two of them was the hottest. Laura's eyes had a glazed look and she was breathing fast and jerky, "Shall we get out of here?" he whispered.

"Yes!" she wiggled away from his obscenely probing fingers just as they slid under the tight elastic leg-band of her pants. She stood up and he had hastily thrown some money on the table and followed her. Laura had insisted on driving, but instead of taking to the highway she simply drove behind the roadhouse, right into a field. He thought the car would hang up in the soft earth, but she spun it under a big tree and right there is where they did it. He had wanted to put the top up in the convertible but Laura was too eager to wait, he smiled faintly, recalling that zippers were new in those days and the pants of his uniform had a button fly. Laura had the buttons undone in seconds, and she took his aching cock out.

"Ohmygod, Johnny!" her voice was awed, "It is HUGE! Lord, I never saw one like that, you'll kill me with it!" and she had bent over him, her long golden hair falling over his genitals, brushing against his heavily loaded balls while she kissed the tip of his giant eleven-inch penis and then ran her little pink tongue all around it like she was licking an ice cream cone. Groaning with his desire to get into this incredible little witch, he tore at her dress, pulling it down to expose her youthful breasts with their high, pointed contours and virginal tiny nipples. Then he pushed her skirt up until her clothing was all bunched around her waist and the lower half of her sensuous body was exposed too, the brief panties starkly white against her slim tanned legs. Laura released his swollen rod from her warm wet mouth and scuttled backward on the car seat to a reclining position, her legs raised. Panting, almost sobbing, she helped him pull the panties off.

"Christ, Laura, you're beautiful!" he exclaimed huskily as he stared down hungrily at her nakedly exposed pussy. The pink cuntal slit nestled, almost concealed, beneath her short curling golden pubic hair. "Oh, hurry, hurry," she was begging him, "I'm so hot I can't stand it!" and she took his lust-swollen cock in her hands and guided it toward her tiny cunt. She had whimpered when he burst through the tight muscular ring, but had quickly become use to the bulk of him inside her and he had been too aroused by her wanton eagerness to exercise any caution or restraint. He had fucked Laura Sanderson mercilessly, as if she had been a common whore and, God, she had loved it. Sixteen years old! He could have gone to jail for the things he did to her that night in the car, well, if it came to that he reckoned he could have gone to jail for a lot of things he'd done in his life. John Chandler grinned humorlessly.

It had been very late when they had finally satiated each other and got their clothes straightened. Again, she had wanted to drive and he figured she was sober enough, although still a rotten driver. They were coming into the outskirts of town, down in the colored section, when it happened.

The streets were quite deserted, so that the last thing they expected was a white figure looming up suddenly in the headlights. Laura had jerked the wheel, but the right fender had hit the white object. The impact was so slight, yet it hurled the figure several yards ahead and it crumpled against the curb. Laura kept on going, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"What was it?" she cried.

He had tried to get her to stop, to go back. "I think it was a woman, a colored woman." She just kept on driving.

"S-she stepped out in the road! You saw her, Johnny! I... I haven't got a driver's license."

Luckily for both of them, he had kept his head. He told her again to stop and then he got behind the wheel. They did not go back to see about the woman, instead he went to his home and put the car in his vacant garage, his mother hadn't had an auto since the war. There was only a small dent in the fender, but to be sure he got several buckets of water and washed that side of the car very carefully. Then he drove Laura home. When they turned in between the brick gateposts at the entrance to the Sanderson farm, John Chandler deliberately scraped the right fender, crumpling it slightly and leaving yellow paint on the bricks. He explained to Laura that this was necessary to explain the damage, and that he would pay to have the car repaired.

It turned out that the victim was an aged colored woman with no relatives, and so not too much fuss was ever made about finding the hit-and-run driver. The state police did check on cars that required body work after the date of the accident, but readily accepted the explanation of the damage to Lee Sanderson's convertible. And the following week, on the night of Laura's graduation from high school, she and John Chandler eloped to Mississippi and were married.

The marriage had worked out well. Perhaps Laura's grandmother had seen that Chandler was a strong enough man to handle her wayward granddaughter as well as guide Lee Sanderson in running the various family enterprises. He had insisted that as his wife, Laura should conduct her sexual affairs with more discretion although he was aware that a woman with her insatiable appetites could not remain faithful to any one man. Well, he had his own appetites, by God, and he hadn't done too badly over the years either! If theirs had been the conventional marriage it would never have lasted, but he was smart enough to see that Laura was like a horse with the bit in its teeth - let her have her head and run, and she would come right back to the stable when the fun was over. No, he would never divorce her - for one thing, the Sanderson family holdings were the base that lay under the considerable fortune Chandler had built up - the real estate, the bank and the saw mill all contributed handsomely. The drugstore was only something he had bought up cheap, on a whim, mainly to get the building. He had no real interest in it and would be glad to see it go, once it had provided the cash for the ocean-front apartment in Florida.

Whistling cheerfully, he selected the papers he wanted and placed them in his briefcase. Then he locked the others away in the desk and snapped his fingers at Drake. The well-trained animal rose immediately and padded silently out of the office with his master.

Chandler entered the bank, nodding and speaking to various patrons as he made his way to the rear and walked directly into his brother-in-law's office without announcing himself. The room was far more sumptuously furnished than Chandler's dusty office upstairs, so that anyone who did not know better might suppose that Lee Sanderson was the more important of the two men. However, in his dealings, it suited the crafty Chandler to retain his poor-boy-makes-good image - the local people trusted him because it seemed like he was really one of them. He seated himself on the massive brocaded couch and drew up a silver ashtray.

"Hi, Lee. You doin' all right?"

"Can't complain," his brother-in-law said mildly, swiveling his leather armchair around to face Chandler, who wasted no time in getting to the point.

"Ray Delray is gonna be over here one of these days to see you about a loan - he wants to buy the store, only he hasn't got any money."

"Well, are you selling to him?"

"Hell, no, you know that other deal is all wrapped up. But here's what I want you to do - stall him. Tell him all the usual, the Board has to approve all the loans, just stall him for a while, be nice to him."

Sanderson went to the concealed mahogany bar and made them each a drink. Handing one glass to John Chandler, he said, "Can I ask why? Why don't you tell him right off that it's no deal? Ray isn't a bad guy, John."

"That wife of his isn't bad, either," Chandler remarked with a low chuckle, "How would you like to get in there, Lee? You want to throw a good fuck into that stuck-up bitch, Jeannette Delray?"

Lee Sanderson's thin, nervous face quickened with anticipation. "What you talkin' about, John? She wouldn't give either one of us the time of day."

"Like to put a little money on that?" the older man was an inveterate bettor, but as his wife's twin knew, Chandler didn't bet unless the odds were heavily loaded in his favor, but Jeannette Delray? The piano teacher? This time he was overreaching. Chandler saw the doubt and indecision of Lee's expression. "Five'll get you ten," he prompted, "that I can lay her, and after I get her reamed out good, she's all yours!" He leaned back and sipped his bourbon, smiling.

The next time Jeannette Delray looked from her front window, the brown station wagon was gone from its parking spot and she breathed a little sigh of relief for that. She hoped she wouldn't ever have to face her husband's boss again, that they could leave Magnolia without this being necessary. They would be leaving, she felt sure now, because of course what John Chandler had suggested was impossible. Even if she could somehow force herself to go through with it, Ray would never want to obtain the store under such conditions, would he? The sad thing was that while she already knew now that their case was hopeless beyond any doubt, Ray still dared to think he might get the loan, after all!

In fact he spent most of the Labor Day weekend working on his presentation for Mr. Sanderson. He was going to the bank on Tuesday morning and Jeannette became increasingly nervous as he talked to her about it. Yes, she nodded, it was a good time, the first day of school, fall at last in the air, a new season, a perfect psychological moment.

"For God's sake, pay attention!" Ray snapped at her suddenly, and she jumped. Hadn't she been paying attention? "You don't want to stay here at all, do you?" he continued accusingly. "You don't like Arkansas - you want to move to a city - why don't you come right out and say so?"

"Oh, no," she said, seating herself in her husband's lap, "I do want to stay here, darling. All our plans, and there's our lot in Hickory Acres, I want exactly what you do. I - it's just that I'm afraid you'll be so disappointed if - " she broke off, tears in her lovely grey eyes.

"I'm sorry, honey," he groaned, "I'm trying to take out my own doubts and frustrations on you. Sometimes I even wonder if we should have got married at all, your parents were right, you know, you could have done a lot better."

"Ray Delray, you stop that silly talk! I could never in this world have done any better. I love you."

They clung to each other wordlessly, but even as their lips were meeting the inevitable question was drumming through Jeannette's brain, what should I do? Suppose that she did let John Chandler come here, that she permitted him to make love to her, it was only a half-hour or so out of a lifetime, and then he would be committed to keep his promise because once they had done it they were equally guilty and she could tell his wife. Innocently, Jeannette believed that Laura must be the reason for driving John Chandler to proposition another woman.

His wife was beautiful and aristocratic, but perhaps there was something lacking sexually. Only why did he want her, then, when she couldn't even satisfy Ray, her own husband! No, she couldn't go through with it, not even for Ray's sake. Just the idea of it turned her stomach, another man, inside her, no, no, no.

Ray went to the bank and was well received by Lee Sanderson, who immediately passed the news on to Chandler after the visit. Ray was told the loan would be taken under consideration, although Sanderson looked rather grave when Ray admitted his only assets were $5500 in his savings account.

"What about your folks?" Lee questioned, "Haven't any of 'em got some property or something they could put up for you?"

"The only property my folks have already has a mortgage on it," Ray admitted. "Everybody's not rich like your family, you know."

"Well, I want you to know that I'm going to do the best I can for you, Ray," Sanderson said, shaking hands. "I'll be in touch with you." He ushered Ray to the door of his luxurious office as if he were the bank's most valued depositor and the gesture made the young pharmacist feel somewhat better about his prospects, not knowing, of course, that his wife's assets - namely, her appealing young body - were going to be the deciding factor.

And so they waited to hear from the bank, with both Ray and Jeannette growing more edgy every day. John Chandler was disappointed that he had not heard from the young Mrs. Delray, maybe she was going to be tougher than he had figured. Goddamn, he did hate to lose a bet!

Lee Sanderson was pestering him about it every day. "I have to tell him something soon, John. What do you want me to do?" It looked like a little push was needed to get things moving in the right direction again and so he instructed his brother-in-law to stall just a few more days and in the meantime to invite the Delrays to the party that was being given at the Country Club on Saturday night. Although they were not leaving for Florida for at least another month, the party was in the nature of a going away affair for John and Laura. Accordingly, Lee telephoned Ray at the drug store and gave him the invitation and Ray took it to be a good sign that he and his wife were being included.

To his amazement, Jeannette did not share this enthusiasm. She did not even want to go, and they quarreled again before she abruptly gave in and agreed. Ray felt he would never understand his northern wife, particularly when she began to take great pains in getting ready for the party, getting her hair done and shortening an old long formal that she'd had in college into a cocktail dress. It was simply made of light green lace, sleeveless and with plunging necklines in both front and back, a great deal more sophisticated than the styles she usually wore.

Magnolia was too small to support a country club, but many of the local people were active in the one at the county seat and for this evening, at least, Magnolia natives seemed to dominate the crowd so that the Delrays saw more familiar faces than they had expected. Several tables had been pushed together in one corner of the large main room and they were welcomed into a group that was already quite lively when they arrived at nine-thirty.

Jeannette's eyes were drawn irresistibly to the table where the Sandersons sat. Oh, God, he'd seen her and was staring back! John Chandler's light blue eyes ran all over her figure appraisingly. Then he nodded and raised his glass to her in a mock toast. Jeannette sat down, her cheeks blazing, and tried not to look again. Lee Sanderson had seen her entrance, too, and he leaned over to whisper in his brother-in-law's ear, "Still think you can fuck her?" Chandler smiled and made a little circle of his thumb and forefinger. Shortly afterward he got up and made his way to where the Delrays were sitting, greeted Ray effusively and asked Jeannette to dance. She got up stiffly and joined him.

"You're lookin' mighty pretty tonight, Jeannette," he commented, immediately pulling her close in an intimate dancing position. "All the local girls are jealous."

"I am a local girl," she pointed out coldly.

"Well, 'course you are, and I hope you stay one, but I forget that sometimes. You haven't been really initiated as a local girl yet," he chuckled, "How come I haven't heard from you? I though we were going to get together."

"Mr. Chandler, please," Jeannette fought to retain her composure. "My husband is here, your wife is here - how can you go on that way?"

"Why, honey, they don't know we aren't talking about the weather and the football game same as everybody else! Don't push away from me like that, I like to feel those tits of yours right up against me. First time I ever saw you, I noticed what a pair of beauties you had."

Jeannette stumbled and missed a step, but he held her so tightly that no one even noticed. She felt as though her whole body was dissolving in shame, good God, she had to go on dancing with him and listening to the flood of obscenity, she couldn't make a scene here!

"Wait till I get you alone," the husky voice went on, "and get your clothes off. I want to suck those tits, I bet they taste just like honey!" To her absolute horror, Jeannette found that the very shocking lewdness of his words was arousing her breasts, she could actually feel them swelling and the nipples stiffening, right through the filmy lace of her dress. In her entire life no one had ever spoken to her as he was doing, certainly not her husband, Ray! "And you got something else that's just like honey...."

The music went on and on and the numb girl allowed herself to be guided along in the loathsome arms of John Chandler, braced for whatever filthy thing was coming next. Her whole body tingled from the stunning surprise of hearing words she had seen only on lavatory walls and which could not help but arouse erotic thoughts in the most chaste girl by their very lewd suggestiveness,

"When do I get into the honey pot, Jeannette? Come on, I've got something here I want to stick in your cunt, can you feel it?" he slid his hand down her back until it rested below her waist, and forcefully propelled her hips toward the lower part of his body. The rigid bulk of his penis seared into her stomach like a branding iron,

"No!" she exclaimed, so loudly that nearby couples heard the exclamation and turned their heads curiously. Chandler relaxed his grip and let his hand return to the proper position, he didn't want to go too far, she was a jumpy little bitch, just far enough so that she got the message loud and clear. He had by now worked her to the far end of the room from where their mates were sitting.

"There's not much time left," he warned her, "If you still want your husband to get the store. I would say, in fact, there's only a few days left. Shall we make an appointment?"

"No," she said dully, unable to think clearly for the emotions that were swirling through every raw nerve end of her body, "I - I can't. What you're asking is impossible. I have never - never been with another man besides my husband. Why won't you let me alone? Find someone else, please!"

"Then I'll give you only a few more hours," he said angrily. "You let me know your decision tonight, before you leave here."

"I told you no."

"I'll ask you just one more time," he promised grimly.

By the time he had returned her to her chair beside Ray, Jeannette was limp and drained of feeling. She had known they shouldn't come, when she heard it was a party for the Sandersons, and now it was turning out to be a further nightmare. But Ray had not noticed a thing, he was actually enjoying himself, having a few drinks under his belt by now.

Groping for reassurance, Jeannette reached over and put her hand timidly on Ray's knee. He turned to her, beaming at this unusual display of affection.

"Here, honey, here's your drink. Maybe it's too weak now, the ice melted while you were dancing."

"No, it'll be fine," she seized the glass gratefully and swallowed the pungent bourbon and cola mix. Ordinarily she did not care for hard liquor, but Jeannette sensed she was going to need something to get her through this evening. After the second drink she began to warm and relax slightly. John Chandler stayed with his friends, and the younger crowd around her and Ray's table was quite enjoyable to be with. She loved to see Ray having a good time, it was the first evening in ages that he'd gotten out like this, probably the last time they would be with these local people, too. She supposed that when the new owners took over the drugstore, or before, her husband would start looking for another job. God, what if it should be another place like Magnolia, maybe worse? The thing was, she was at last beginning to feel some slight sense of belonging here and getting acquainted. If they owned the store, if they could build the house in Hickory Acres, it wouldn't be at all bad! They could join this country club and Ray would be able to play golf, she would take part in garden clubs or something.

Someone else asked Jeannette to dance and when she returned to the table her third drink was waiting. She finished it, and later there was more, never had she had so much to drink in one night; she was probably in for a hangover in the morning, but at last she was really enjoying herself, having a good time! Much, much later they began drinking sentimental toasts to the Sandersons - and Laura Chandler stood up and made a drunken, tearful speech about leaving Magnolia for the first time in her life, even though she would always keep her home here, "mah fam'ly place," as she put it. She had to lean on her brother and her husband to keep from falling as she swayed gracefully back and forth and rambled on, liquor spilling from her glass to splash over her expensive dress.

"She's plastered!" Jeannette whispered to Ray, shocked. He grinned at her.

"Darling, she's usually plastered, from what I hear."

What a shame, Jeannette thought, such a beautiful woman and so well kept up. She has to be past forty, but her figure is still great, is it being married to that horrible man that makes her drink? When she finally ran out of words, Laura sat down abruptly - not in her own chair, but on her husband's lap. She flung her arms around him and kissed him in a passionate way that drew whistles from the onlookers and made Jeannette feel uncomfortable. Later Laura was circulating among the tables, kissing all the men and the women too and promising to write to everyone from Florida. When it was Ray's turn she rumpled his black hair and kissed him full on the lips in a provocative way that Jeannette excused only because of Laura's obvious condition. But when Ray asked her to dance, it was the last number, she found her own condition was not much better and was grateful to lean against her husband's tall form and let him pilot her over the dance floor. Suddenly she heard a well-remembered husky voice and found that Ray was disentangling her arms from his neck. John Chandler had cut in on them!

All the liquor she had consumed was racing through her blood, and Jeannette could not for the life of her remember, ah, yes, he wanted to ask her something. She let herself be pressed against his bulky frame, her stomach rubbing his, breasts mashed against his hard rib cage. His fingers played at the slit in the back of her dress where it was open nearly to the waist. He did not seem so repulsive now, he was quiet and not saying those awful things which had upset her before. His big hands were almost gentle, she must keep her wits, this was very important, very important to Ray. Darling Ray was so happy tonight, she must help him get the store so that they could go on living here and he would always be happy just as he was now!

"Jeannette," Chandler's voice was calm, insistent, "I'll be at your place Monday. I'm damned if I could wait another day. I'll see that Ray has to go to Camden, don't worry about a thing, baby, nobody will know. Monday afternoon."

"I can't," she shook her head, her words slurring slightly, "I can't do it to Ray!"

"You're doing it for him, remember? I told you, I'll ask you one more time. This is it - shall I come on Monday?"

"Oh, God," the poor girl's head was spinning. What to say? What to do? She must help Ray. "Yes," she breathed, "C-come on Monday." Her head slumped forward wearily on his shoulder, eyes nearly closed. Her long brown hair, escaping from the careful hair styling of this afternoon, tumbled down her back. Over the brown curls, Chandler saw his brother-in-law dancing toward him. The eyes of the two men met for an instant and Chandler winked broadly.

Jeannette did not remember the ride home at all, or being undressed and put to bed by her husband. The next thing, she remembered, in fact, was waking on Sunday afternoon with a truly ghastly hangover. Ray seemed to think it was funny, but he took tender care of his wife, bringing her coffee, and ice to put on her throbbing head. That evening, when she had recovered sufficiently to sit in the living room, he teased her about getting high.

"You were the life of the party, honey, dancing with everybody. Good thing I'm not the jealous type."

"Huh! I seem to remember Laura Chandler slobbering all over you."

"Well, her old man made up for it, cut in on the very last dance. Oh, you were a big hit, Mrs. Delray."

Then she remembered it all and the walls seemed to fall in on her! He was coming here, Monday, tomorrow. She had made a cheap, back street rendezvous with her husband's boss, in her husband's own home. He couldn't hold her to it, she'd been drunk, and Jeannette had no intention of going through with her part of the lewd arrangement. "I've got something you need, and you've got something I can use."

As one often does, she simply refused to think about the unthinkable and blocked the whole thing off in a dark corner of her mind as though it might just go away by wishing. Her vital young body snapped back quickly from the effects of her overindulgence at the party, and on Monday morning she rose early and did the washing and ironing. Then she fixed Ray's lunch. He came upstairs promptly at twelve and ate hurriedly.

"Honey, I've got to go to Camden this afternoon," he said, munching the tossed salad she had prepared.

"Camden? How come?" A cold chill gripped her.

"Chandler called, wants me to go to the wholesale house, and then he asked me to run a couple of personal errands for him - stuff for the farm. I'm leaving right away and I should get back by five, that way I can make up any prescriptions that come in."

"I could go with you," she said, "Maybe see a movie or just look around the stores?"

He frowned. "Don't you have a piano lesson?"

"Oh, yes, of course, well," she smiled bravely, "another time."

"Got to run," he pushed his chair back, gave his wife a quick hug and kissed her. Jeannette watched the car drive away and then, moving like a robot she went to the telephone.

"Mrs. Hearldson? This is Jeannette Delray. I wonder if Cynthia would mind switching her piano lesson to tomorrow afternoon? Is that convenient? Then I'll look for her after school tomorrow. Yes, goodbye." She went into the living room and sat down to wait. Crazily, it occurred to her that maybe she ought to dress for the occasion. What did one wear, a negligee, black stockings with lace garters? Oh, God!

Jeannette never drank in the daytime, but if ever in her life she needed a drink it was now and she went to the kitchen and fixed herself a stiff one. At one-thirty, when she was on her second drink, the doorbell rang, one short, sharp ring. She went down immediately and opened the door.

The big German Shepherd bounded in ahead of his master and brushed against Jeannette's unsteady legs, tail wagging.

"Hello, Jeannette," John Chandler said, "you doin' all right? You don't mind if Drake comes in, it's mighty hot for him to sit in the car?"

"No, I-let him come in." She was rather relieved to have the dog there, it seemed that she was not complete alone with Chandler that way. Drake bounded up the stairs with Jeannette following and Chandler behind her, his eyes fixed on the undulating spheres of her asscheeks as they moved in rhythmic rotation under her dress. Jesus, he was going to enjoy this one. It had been a lot of trouble to set up, but he was almost home, in a matter of minutes he would be all the way home, fucking the hell out of that sweet little cunt. His cock was jumping already.

She led the unwanted guest into the living room where the drapes had been closed against the mid-day sun and the radio played softly, masking the sounds of traffic below on the square. "Will you have a drink?" she asked formally, her hands twitching nervously.

"Don't mind if I do, if you'll join me." Her husband's boss eased his bulk onto the low couch, and she brought the drinks a few seconds later. The ice cubes rattled as she handed him his glass. When she turned to seat herself in a chair, Chandler seized her by the wrist and pulled her down on the couch beside him.

"Just relax," he urged her gently. "What are you so scared of, Jeannette? The world ain't coming to an end." Even at this point he knew she had to be handled carefully, the whole thing could still blow up in his face. But he had never failed to score with any woman he really set his sights on and he would be goddamned if this prissy New England bitch was going to spoil his record. He circled her trembling shoulders with his arm, setting his drink on the coffee table, and tilted her pale face toward him. Jeannette's innocent grey eyes pleaded mutely for mercy as he pulled her closer and closer until their lips met with a galvanizing shock. It was a strange kiss, unlike any Ray had ever given her. John Chandler seemed to be tasting her lips and mouth, licking lasciviously at her and transferring the distinctive flavor of bourbon from his lips to hers. Breathless at his aggression, Jeannette wriggled backwards against the cushions of the davenport. His large handsome face blotted out everything else from her vision.

"You're a beauty," he muttered, "and I've wanted you for a long time. Am I so repulsive, Jeannette? Why are you shrinking away from me like that?"

She felt his hand come to rest on her tensely quivering stomach and the contact, felt right through her light cotton dress, sent a curious near thrill surging through her.

"N-no," she admitted, "you're not repulsive, Mr. Chandler, but...."

"John..." he corrected, moving his arm to encircle her small waist.

"John. Please, I beg you,"

He cut off the words by completely engulfing her soft wet mouth again in his own lips, his tongue thrusting out lizard like to force its way between her teeth, and a wild shiver of emotion rippled through her. His big hands felt hot as they began to move over her.

Oh, God, this was it! She continued to push and struggle against him but only for a moment until she realized the futility of it and simply let herself relax and her mouth fall open to the lewd probings of his tongue. Her entire body now slumped against him as his right hand found, and covered her large uptilted breast.

"Ooooh," she moaned and he smiled confidently.

"You're going to love it, honey," he promised, his hands now moving faster in their thorough exploration of the hollows of her supple body while he continued to lap at her face with his rapacious tongue.

Lord, she was alive all over with wanton sensation! Suddenly his mouth and hands roaming lewdly over her had set her on fire, Ray, oh, Ray, come back, I need you now! His hand was on her bare knee, traveling upward to her thigh, stroking the sensitive inner flesh of her thigh! Oh, God help her, she didn't mind it there, she was even liking it, actually craving the soft pressing warmth that was coming ever closer, closer.

This was wrong, completely wrong! What was she thinking of, she mustn't let this man do these forbidden things to her. She knew she couldn't go through with it, it was too emotionally wracking, and she had to stop him now, before it was too late!

Jeannette sat up straight, shoving against John Chandler's broad chest in a futile effort to loosen his grip on her. "No, I can't," she half sobbed, "I'm sorry, I know I let you think that I - but I simply can't go through with it. You may have no principles, but I have."

"Principles, hell!" he snorted at her. "Why, you conceited little bitch, you want to know what's wrong with you? You're scared to death that you're going to like gettin' fucked by Big John!"

The helpless, demoralized young girl gasped, staring up into his steely blue eyes. The horrible part of it was that there might be a small grain of truth in his horrid suggestion, she had for a moment felt something stir inside her, a shiver of anticipation when his hand had rested between her legs.

"An' you are gonna like it," he murmured lazily, resuming his perusal of her quivering hot thighs. Slowly and gradually, while his hand slipped up and down the creamy soft flesh, he worked her backward until she lay stretched out beneath him on the davenport. He pushed his fingers far up between her fearfully quivering legs and gently rubbed against the flimsy nylon panties that protected her cringing pussy.

"Please, John, no," she groaned even as she flung her arms tight around his neck and let her soft wet mouth fall open to him even as her legs were opening wider and wider as the sensual torment of his hand instigated a rush of prurient emotion through her loins. She was aware that he was burrowing under the thin elastic leg-band of her panties and she whimpered in paralyzed distress.

Then, dear God, he was inside!

His long thick finger was parting the moistly, palpitating slit of her vagina and she tried to cringe away but there was no escape from the lewdly invading finger even though she scratched ineffectually at his massive shoulders and whined in disbelief that this could actually be happening to her, here in her own living room. The probing finger worked deeper and deeper inside her moistly clinging cuntal lips and Jeannette quivered in debased excitement. She sensed the warm wetness that was gathering inside her and seeping out to dampen his finger as it played with her sensitive vaginal slit and spread the soft pubic hair away from the tiny opening. The poor young wife could not stifle the sigh of pleasure that escaped from her throat as he touched the tiny erect button of her clit and let his middle finger linger there until she squirmed uncontrollably with the unwelcome passion that he was inevitably arousing in her.

The utter hopelessness of her situation was plain to Jeannette. Torn by worry for her husband, she had allowed herself to make this appointment with his boss, John Chandler. She'd been quite drunk at the time, but that was no excuse, and now he was here to claim his end of the unholy bargain, he was, claiming it, taking her bodily! There was nothing she could do but let him finish, let him make love to her in any way he chose, just as a whore must please her clients! To add to her total humiliation, instead of getting the obscene act over with quickly, he was playing with her and to her own shame she was letting him arouse her with his taunting finger thrusts up into her vagina, to the point that her hips were twisting back and forth involuntarily as he stroked the hotly awakened slit up between her legs.

"That's better," he leaned over her, grinning lewdly. "You're getting nice and wet down there now. Let's get your clothes off, honey, I think you're almost ready to fuck."

His casual use of the obscene word made her tense inwardly, but at the same time it invoked a strange new excitement in her as she realized that no one had ever dared take the liberty of speaking to her this way before and the shock could not help but send little ripples of lewd agitation through her body.

He let her sit up to remove her clothing, which she did automatically with an almost fatalistic acceptance of the situation. He helped her pull her dress over her head and then gave his attention to taking his own clothes off. She could not, however, bring herself to pull away the damp pair of panties which had protected her delicate pubic area from his lustful eyes if not from his groping fingers. Breathing hard and audibly, he gasped with a quick intake of breath as he looked up and saw her full, high-set breasts with the hard little pink nipples exposed. His hands went out to enclose and fondle the ripe, succulent flesh, kneading the pliant creamy skin and pinching the nipples to a state of even greater erectness. Finally he bent his head down to her excitedly heaving chest and took one pink nipple into his hot, wet mouth and sucked it hungrily, flicking his thick tongue in a maddening way against the tiny sensitive tip of the nipple. In a leisurely way, he moved to the other breast, cupping it underneath with his palm while his wet lips assaulted the hard, throbbing nipple, then, while his hands continued to manipulate her achingly full breasts he let his lips slide down the deep cleft between them and move slowly toward her navel. When he encountered the brief nylon protection of her panties he simply hooked his thumbs in the narrow waistband and jerked them downward. As the cool air rushed over her secret parts that were now fully revealed to this gross lecher, Jeannette moaned with shame and horror but extended her long slim legs so that he could draw the panties down, down and toss them away.

"Jesus H. Christ!" the drugstore owner exclaimed with something akin to reverence as his greedy eyes feasted at last on the shadowed triangular patch of her cuntal hair. Jeannette opened her eyes which she had kept tightly clenched shut during the last several minutes.

He towered above her, one knee on the couch, one hairy muscular leg planted on the floor. Below the slight bulge of his stomach the massively rigid pole of his desire hardened penis swung straight out from his loins.

"Oh God," she moaned, her eyes widening in disbelief while he smiled down at her in salacious enjoyment of her amazement. His hand began a lewd stroking motion of the thick uncircumcised foreskin popping the huge, blood-engorged head out at her with its tiny slit winking like some evil eye.

"That dumb husband of yours hasn't got anything like this, has he, honey?" he teased the debased young bride as she cowered away from the sight of the powerful cock. "I bet nobody ever stretched that tight little cunt of yours. Oh, just wait till I get it up into your little belly, you're gonna beg me to let you have all of it." He was obviously relishing her terror with a near-sadistic joy as he proudly stroked his fleshy instrument. Dear God, she could never take a thing like that in her! He would kill her if he tried!

She scarcely, heard his lewd boasting, her mind was too full of the knowledge of her hopeless position, he was going to ravish her, appeals for mercy would be useless, she was sure, for her degradation was only inciting him to further obscenities. Alone with him, naked and spread out obscenely for his pleasure, there was absolutely no escape, no relief, she was lost!

Chandler place a hand on each of her knees and deliberately began to force them apart, opening her fearfully cringing genitals completely to his lustful gaze.

"Wider," he ordered, chuckling softly, "open 'em up wider, you got a big man coming in there, honey, with a big cock to ram in that sweet little pussy!"

The petrified young wife whimpered in fright as her husband's boss climbed onto the davenport and knelt up between her outstretched legs. She felt the springs groan under his weight as he lowered his massive, naked body toward her.

"Ray," she half sobbed, "Oh, oh, oh Ray."

The expected entry did not come immediately, however, and Jeannette lifted her head to look down over her quivering breasts and see John Chandler's massive bulk crouched over her. He was sliding backward, crab-like, over her naked body until his head was positioned over her widespread thighs and with sudden horror it dawned on the girl what he had in mind. She cringed in terror.

"Oh no, please, I can't, I never have!" she pleaded, with her husband's employer, her horrified grey eyes fixed on his head that was dropping lower and lower as his big hands spread the white inner sides of her thighs yet further open. "Oh, my God, not like that, not like that," she moaned.

Chandler's breath came in excited pants that stirred the sparse, light brown pubic hair which fringed the narrow cuntal slit, pink and wet with the moisture of the innocent young bride's unwanted arousal. Her disgrace complete, she lay as if transfixed, her eyes still mutely begging him not to commit this unnatural act upon her defenseless body. With a decisive, unhurried movement he pulled apart the two fleshy cuntlips that guarded the inner sanctum of her femininity, and feasted his lusting eyes on the coral pink pussy flesh.

Jeannette felt the warm expulsion of his breath waft over her secret, sensitive vagina and she gasped as, her head still raised, she saw his long tongue emerge from his mouth and then, seconds later, felt its hotly electric contact against her cringing young pussy.

Her stomach jumped and her whole body jerked in disbelief as his strong, pressing tongue forced its way up into the quivering channel of her openly defenseless cunt. Faster and faster, the tormenting instrument of her debasement slid in and out of her unwilling pussy that was automatically dilating to receive the invading tongue despite her horror at the outrage he was committing on her innocent body.

"Uuuuggghhh, no, my God!" she moaned in utter humiliation as she continued to watch her unnatural ravishment by his bestial mouth. This could not, simply must not, be happening! It was some nightmare, she thought, as his long wet tongue slithered furiously up into her moist, velvety cuntal slit. "Stop it, John, God, I can't stand it, please, stop?" she entreated him, choking with shame as she perceived with even further horror that unwelcome quivers of lewd enjoyment were beginning to radiate through her subjugated body from his depraved assault on her warmly throbbing cunt.

His hands suddenly slid under her firm asscheeks that were desperately grinding into the cushions of the couch in a useless effort to escape the obscene ravishment he was inflicting upon her. With his big fingers spread wide, he cupped and squeezed her tender flesh, separating the twin ass cheeks almost brutally while with his mouth and tongue he continued to lick obscenely at the gaping pink split between her legs with lewd wet smacking sounds. She saw that he was looking expectantly at her tear streaked face and knew that he was watching for her reaction and complete surrender to his animal like conquest of her proud, moral nature. That he would not get, she was determined; although in her trapped position she was forced to accept his abuse, he could not control her mind! Oh, Ray, darling, I'm doing it for you, but I pray that this won't change everything between us, I never thought it would be like this, or that John Chandler would be such a sadistic beast as to degrade me in this humiliating way, God, what was happening to her was already beyond the wildest fears of her imagination, yet there was nothing to do but lie there while he sucked with insane fervor at her traitorously acquiescing vagina and try to keep her suddenly treacherous, unfamiliar body from responding to the unexpected blissful excitement he was awakening in her.

Her husband had once hinted he would like to have sex with her in this depraved way, but she had immediately rejected his tentative suggestion as beyond the limits of decency, marital or otherwise. She had not known it would feel like this, how could she?

As he labored over her, unceasingly thrusting his tireless tongue far up into her warmly pulsating vagina, John Chandler gloated over the successful outcome of his conquest. What a fabulous piece she was! Even tear streaked and contorted, her face was still pretty and as for her supple, youthful body, it was a thing of beauty that he was going to get a real kick out of fucking. For all her chilliness, there was a hot streak in her just waiting to be uncovered and stimulated into raw passion. Ruthlessly, his lips explored the moistened folds of her clinging vaginal lips until they settled on the tiny erect bud of her clit. Jeannette gasped in shocked pleasure as he enclosed the throbbing little sensation center with his teeth and laved his hungry tongue over it in circles until she cried out with involuntary wild happiness and thrashed her hips from side to side in uncontrollable lewd excitement. Finally, he let his tongue slide downward again, into the seething wet crevice of her vagina. He fucked her orally, thrusting his thick hot tongue up into the widely dilated slit while she whimpered and mewled in cadence with his lewd swirling movements around the inner walls of the soft, hair-fringed cuntal lips.

Her bursting groans of pleasure filled the living room and the big German Shepherd sat alertly watching the obscene movements of the naked pair on the couch. As Chandler thrust ever deeper into the velvety warm depths between the young housewife's legs, he saw Jeannette's small hands twisting in their desperate struggle and then abruptly give in and move toward him involuntarily until her fingers locked in his thick hair and pulled him further and further into her greedily clasping pussy.

He had her now! She was hopelessly entrapped by her own awakened and unfulfilled desires, ready to be taken by him in any way he wanted to do it.

Jeannette, too, knew that her body was no longer responding to the dictates of her outraged mind but was on an uncharted course of its own, God, what could she do, nothing! Her asscheeks were jerking rhythmically with the thrusts of John's tongue as he sent spasms of erotic sensation such as she had never dreamed existed through her love hungry body. Suddenly, without warning, his tongue darted downward toward the forbidden, puckered little hole of her anus. She gasped with shock, but the gasp trailed into a rapturous moan of surprised bliss at the maddening contact of his pleasure giving tongue against the sensitive, secret opening. She wriggled ecstatically in the grip of sensual emotion that traveled headlong through her entire being.

"Oh don't," she protested, "not that, my God, don't," but her hips rotated automatically with the effort to force her agonized ass up against the hard thrusting tongue.

Laughing to himself, he continued his demoralizing assault on the tight little hole of her anus as she thrashed under him in utter degradation, unable to control the involuntary quivers of her asscheeks as the delicious but unwelcome pleasure rippled wildly through her.

"Dear God, please, John," she groaned, raising her head to plead with her sodomizer as he labored up between her cruelly stretched thighs, "Please stop!" she begged him, realizing with horror that she had completely lost control of herself and was at his mercy, a mere object to be humiliated and further disgraced, ruined. But it was useless to appeal; he licked insanely on and on at her gaping wet loins until the unbelievable pleasure had reduced the young bride to a state of raw, pulsating passion that was beyond the bounds of any reason or thought of right or wrong. She knew, dimly, that she was committing adultery, but she could no longer fight the lover who was giving her an intense physical rapture that she had never before felt or even dreamed could exist in this world.

"Oooooh, ooooh, John, it feels so good!" The shameful admission burst from her tortured lips before she could choke it back. "It feels so good,.. oh, my God, more, more!" she begged him, thrusting her hips upward while her fingers again twisted in his hair and she pulled his head even closer to the openly throbbing slit of her vagina. She was wild with excitement and the insane desire for more of this incredibly enchanting sensation.

John Chandler grinned sadistically as he plunged his lizard like tongue into the seething depths of her cunt while she pushed hard up against his face in total subjugation to his will. Her soft brownish pussy hair grazed his cheeks as her asscheeks rolled in rhythmic spasms of carnal joy and her passion distorted features revealed how completely he had broken down her pride and self-respect. Christ, he was going to get a kick out of this, screwing the hell out of her pliant young body. He was going to ram his rock thick ten-inch prick all the way into that hot, wriggling little belly and shoot her full of sperm until she yelled her head off. Goddamn, it was going to be good!

Jeannette thought she would go stark raving mad with delight from his wildly licking tongue that was sending ever widening circles of eroticism through her naked belly and loins. Breathlessly, she looked down at his head held in her little hands as she pulled the hot lash of his strong tongue deeper inside her and it swirled around the clasping walls of her desire soaked vagina. It felt so wonderful she hoped it would never, never stop, but, it was stopping, he was withdrawing the instrument of her pleasure from her, she looked up at him, suddenly aware again of the humiliation of her position and the way he had debased her.

"You're nice and hot now, honey," he chuckled huskily, "all ready to be fucked, oh, you're never going to forget this, little girl, I'm going to fuck you til you can't walk."

The helpless wife lay on the couch paralyzed, her knees raised and her seething pussy spread unceremoniously wide open to him, her heaving breasts quivering with suddenly raised goosebumps as she stared at the rigidly erect cock extending from his loins like a massive club. It seemed to swell to even greater dimensions as she gaped at it in horrified disbelief.

"No, please," she shuddered, yet felt tingles of unwanted excitement in her loins as he moved deliberately up over her and bent his head over her breasts, seizing a nipple between his teeth and nipping the hard little bud painfully so that she groaned with the sudden hurt that at the same time caused further fluttering tremors of delight in her churning belly.

"All right, Jeannette," he hissed at her. "Now I'm going to fuck you until you beg me for it. Take my cock and put it right in that hot, tight little cunt of yours," he ordered.

Jeannette winced at the impact of the obscene words. Fuck, cock, God, she could not help but be excited against her will by the very startling sound of such coarse terms, but she must not let herself be excited in this salacious way. If she could no longer control her body, she had to at least keep this lecher from subjugating her mind and thoughts. Dear God, everything was lost if she,

"Come on," he snapped impatiently, "I said take my cock and put it up in your cunt." His eyes were inflamed with unholy lust as he gloated down at the innocent young girl.

"Oh, John, don't ask me, no, I can't," she sobbed in her humiliation, yet moved her unwilling hand down until it was only inches from the monstrous penis. Tears ran down her lovely, contorted face and she shook her head in shame and fear.

"You dumb little cunt!" he snarled. "Do what I tell you, bitch, put it in!"

"Oh, my God," she moaned, touching his throbbing cock and then enclosing its bulk in her little hand, God, it was big, bigger even than it had looked, warm and rigid in her fingers.

Chandler began to lower his hips while Jeannette spread her legs even wider apart and slowly drew the heavy shaft toward the tiny, wet hole of her vagina. With the smooth, thick head she penetrated the cringing folds of her pussy, her heart pounding with both dread and anticipation. She shivered at the first touch of the rubbery, bulbous tip against the sensitive edges of her moistened vagina. She hesitated, unable to go on, and he shoved his hips forward causing an instant, sharp pain as the hard member strained against the tight entrance of her vaginal channel.

"Aaaaaghhh," she groaned and he pushed harder, forcing the ponderous tip through the elastic opening and cruelly stretching her tender cuntal flesh. The pain was unbearable! "Aaaaggghhh, God, it's too big! Please, you're tearing me, please, God!" she choked and screamed at him to stop, but he only grinned with sadistic, evil pleasure at the discomfort he was inflicting on her and deliberately continued his slow, torturing entry into her, unwilling pussy.

"Ooooohh, oh God," Jeannette wailed as the lust thickened cudgel slipped up into her, inch by agonizing inch. Then, suddenly overcome by his mounting desire, the insensitive businessman tired of watching her cringing body trying to take his oversized penis, and he pushed forward with one brutal stroke, ramming his long, swollen cock up into her unstretched passage with pile driving force.

"Aggggghhhh!" Jeannette screamed as the blood engorged tip forced aside the tightly clinging walls of her pussy and raced unendingly up into her covering belly until his hairy, sperm filled balls struck her rounded, tight clenched asscheeks with a dull obscene sounding smack.

"Ooooh, God,!" she groaned. He had torn her apart, she was sure, and she dared not move for fear of further injury to her aching vagina. She was full, her whole belly full with his cock, she could feel it all the way up inside her to her womb.

Grimacing with satisfaction, he lay heavily on her for a moment, breathing hard, then he moved his cock forward deep inside her yet another fraction of an inch, bringing a tortured gasp from her lips. He did it again and again, enjoying her shamed, agonized groans until they began to change, unmistakably, to whimpers of a more sensual nature. Her passage had gradually adjusted itself to the unnatural size of his blood hardened cock and as he rocked back and forth over her, forcing his penis to new depths, she could not seem to control the sounds which burst from deep in her chest.

He raised himself over her prostrate, spread-eagled body as she whined helplessly under him, and he said with lascivious satisfaction, "Now tell me you want it, Jeannette. Beg me for it."

She stared up at him endeavoring to resist the lewd suggestion as her hips began to wriggle involuntarily and of their own volition. Her eyes pleaded with him to spare her this ultimate degradation.

"No, please, John, isn't this enough?"

"Damn it, I said beg me! Come on, ask me to fuck you, tell me you want it!"

"Oh, God, why, why do you need that, too?" He was taking everything from her - pride, morals, all of it!

"I want to hear you beg, you stuck up little bitch! Beg!"

"A-all right," she sighed hopelessly, "Do it to me, I - I want you to do it to me."

"Not like that. Say 'fuck.' Ask me to fuck you!"

"Fuck me, Oh God, yes, yes, fuck me!" she almost screamed it at him through her clenched teeth and tear-streaked her face as she uttered the unforgivably obscene word. Her capitulation to his demands was complete, she only waited now for whatever was coming, unable to reason or think or feel anything beyond the big throbbing cock that was buried in her tender belly.

As he resumed his thrusting motions up into her with smooth, short strokes, she abandoned her earlier determination to fight the salacious pleasure that was again threatening to engulf her treacherous body, she was too weary and sick with remorse to struggle any more, she wanted to be carried along on the crest of the rolling waves of excitement that followed each plunge of his cock into her tightly clasping pussy. And as he gradually increased his pace as well as the length of his strokes, Jeannette felt herself going, going along with him, her entire body tingling as she squirmed under him on the couch. He dropped his open mouth to her face, licking at her lust-contorted features, and she captured his tongue between her lips and sucked at it hungrily while she mewled, kitten like, in debased acceptance of all that he was doing to her. She pushed her hips up from the couch cushions to meet his downward plunges and give him still deeper entry into her steaming cunt.

John Chandler saw that she was perspiring now and that the cords of her neck stood out as her head whipped from side to side in rhythm with the sensuous twists of her round asscheeks. Guttural humming noises slipped from deep down in her throat. He knew damn good and well that Ray Delray hadn't been getting anything like this out of his prissy young wife, no, and her husband hadn't been putting anything into her like the cock that was in her now, either! Man, how she could move that ass as she drove her naked cunt right up against his cock as if she wanted to swallow it. Christ, she was tight, nobody'd ever stretched her good, it felt like, she was the next thing to a virgin, and it was driving him right up the wall, fucking her like this!

Her long brown hair streamed out from her wildly bobbing head as Jeannette thrust her twitching legs out on either side of his thighs, forcing her own thighs still wider open to be skewered ever deeper on the rigidly impaling rod of his flesh as it bored into her again and again. Oh, why hadn't anyone ever told her a man could make you feel like this? As she flung her head backward and tensed her taut-stretched thighs, ramming her open flowering cunt up hard against him the intensity of her rapture was nearly unbearable. Don't let it stop, oh don't let it ever stop! She just hadn't known, wouldn't have believed, that this could happen, that she could be unwillingly forced to commit adultery and then that she would enjoy it!

John was plowing into her with ever greater force, pulling his hotly throbbing cock nearly all the way out of her velvety wet sheath on the backstroke and then sinking it back into her pussy with jack hammer force until his aching balls slapped against the tiny, exposed ring of her anus. His cock throbbed with the tremendous pressure mounting in his sperm swollen balls and he panted hoarsely in lustful exhilaration, his need for release was so great that he could not control himself much longer and he pounded into her upthrust cunt with lust driven fury while she moaned incessantly under him in outright rapture. He increased his pace while he stared down between her legs at where his cock was gliding in and out of her hungrily sucking cunt. The feeling was indescribable as his glistening wet shaft emerged from the clasping, soft hair-lined folds of her pussy with an obscene wet sucking sound and then disappeared again into the depths of her soft white belly. He placed his hand on the fleshy lips of her cunt and began to fondle them, bringing further cries of pleasure from Jeannette as he felt the muscles of her vagina tighten spasmodically and grip his rigid cock as if to hold it inside her forever.

Her long white legs jerked upward, toes clenching, Christ, she was almost there! He sawed into her wildly, shoving her knees upward and back with relentless pressure until it seemed the seething plane of her pussy would be split wide open, God, what a woman she was, what a fantastic cunt!

Jeannette's swollen breasts danced heavily with the force of his fucking, the nipples seeming to expand as she began to jerk and convulse, head thrust backward until the cords and muscles of her slender neck stood out in rigid display.

"Oh, oh, oh," she chanted, "Jesus, I feel, I'm going to, oh yes, now, now, nowwww!"

A gush of warm wetness bathed his thundering cock as he thrust faster and farther up into her, with every ounce of strength he possessed. The sticky cuntal secretions bathed and lubricated his massive shaft, and as she contorted and spasmed under him, wailing as her vaginal lips sucked and pulled at his lewdly impaling penis, John felt his own boiling hot fluid racing from his lust bloated balls up the full length of his driving penis with ecstatic force that racked his big body as it spurted from the tip of his cock deep up into her vibrating womb and belly. It flowed out in hot torrents that pooled with her own boiling cum until her delirious wail of joy sank into a murmur of complete and utter satisfaction. Never, never had Jeannette known anything like this, or guessed that it was possible to be so filled with pleasure. She had done it only to keep a bargain, to protect her husband, not expecting that her humiliated body would be fulfilled as it never had been before.

Now that it was at last over she must cope with the realization of what had been done to her, and that her husband's boss was still lying atop her satiated body with his long penis still buried deep in her pulsing vagina.

"Please, John," she tried to control her voice and make it cool and impersonal, "Take your thing out of me now."

He complied, looking down at her wonderingly as he raised himself off her and began to look around for his clothing.

"What's the matter with you? Not going to tell me you didn't enjoy it?"

"I - I enjoyed it," she admitted in a low, reluctant voice. How could she deny it?

"Good," he smiled. "I always like to satisfy the ladies. Oh, don't bother putting your clothes on, honey. You're not finished yet."

"W-what do you mean?" Jeannette had begun to rise from her prone position on the couch, now she paused in dreadful uncertainty. Surely, after the shattering climax they had reached together, he couldn't be, impossible!

John Chandler was grinning evilly down at the supine young bride. Oh, what a surprise was in store for the snotty little bitch! "Maybe I forgot to tell you," he drawled, "but wherever I go, Drake goes, too. Including ladies' cunts, honey."

"Drake?" Of course, the dog, the dog? For a joke, it was certainly in bad taste, but what could you expect from such a coarse, vulgar person? She sat up and swung her bare legs down on the floor.

"Over here, boy," Chandler snapped his fingers and the great German Shepherd obediently rose and came to his master, tail wagging. And Jeannette received her first inkling that perhaps it was not a joke, that he might be seriously suggesting that, that she, she stared, transfixed, at the handsome animal, the first dim realization that such a thing might be possible penetrating her reeling brain. She'd heard, she knew such things were done, shows with girls mating with animals, but surely such perversions could not exist in the sleepy town of Magnolia, Arkansas! John Chandler, rotten as he was, would surely not attempt anything so monstrous as that.

"I - I don't feel well," Jeannette murmured unsteadily, "Will you please leave now, Mr. Chandler?"

"Ah, a few minutes ago it was John, wasn't it, when I had my cock in you?" She winced at the memory of the event she was determined to forget, to put behind her forever. "Never mind, honey, Drake here will make you nice and hot and friendly again. He's quite a dog, as you'll see for yourself in a moment. Better get down on the floor - you don't want your couch all scratched up."

"I've done what I promised," the demoralized girl pleaded, "You can't expect me, I won't do it. Not with a dog!"

"Yes, you will, Jeannette. You have no choice, in your position, because I'm making it a condition of your husband getting the loan. You can't afford to lose what you've already made a 'down payment' on, girl, so hurry up and get down there," he pointed impatiently to the tufted rug and seized her arm, "Drake's a trained guard dog, by the way, he'll attack anyone that I tell him to - so just keep that fact in your pretty little head."

"But if I do this, how do I know you won't require, other things? How do I know I'll ever be free of you?" Too late, Jeannette was beginning to see clearly how she had entrapped herself in a net of bondage to this man. Why had she expected him to honor this agreement, a man without honor or principles of any sort? But, a dog? The very idea of it sent little chills running along her naked spine and set her still quivering pussy to quaking anew.

Chandler was not used to hearing back talk from his women. He tightened his grip on her arm and forced her forward, down on her knees beside the couch. "Don't try to be a smart ass with me," he threatened. "I can ruin your reputation in this town so fast there won't be a decent woman who'll even speak to you. Think you're too goddamned good for my dog, eh? Well, smarten up, he's got a longer pedigree than you have." He nudged Jeannette's soft asscheeks with his knee and she went down on all fours, helpless tears of shame and outrage flooding her eyes.

The big man chuckled as he feasted his eyes salaciously on her full mooned asscheeks and the thin hair fringed slit of her cum drenched cunt glistening wetly up between the milk white flesh of her thighs. Stroking Drake's glossy fur, he led the dog forward. As the beast's cold nose nuzzled into the gap of her thighs, Jeannette jerked wildly and gave a little cry. The galvanizing, velvety touch sent erotic spasms through her tensely waiting body. God, it felt like, like nothing else in the world, she supposed, as Drake sniffed at her vagina in the way he would sniff any bitch dog and she knelt before him with her widespread asscheeks lewdly elevated. She looked back between her legs and moaned audibly as she saw the handsome dog's shiny, scarlet penis suddenly poking out of its furry sheath. Oh God, the animal's testicles were nearly the size of a man's, and almost black. With a leaping motion, Drake mounted her, his great paws slipping and scratching against her smooth back as his haunches curved obscenely over her asscheeks and the tapered red tip of his penis bobbed, dripping, at her hot wet crevice. The very forbiddenness and unthinkable aspects of what was happening to her could not help but arouse Jeannette's prurient emotions. Instinctively, without realizing what she was trying to do, she shifted her asscheeks in an effort to seize the long, scarlet organ and clasp it in the blood engorged folds of her vagina. But the beast's excitement caused it to miss the waiting entrance and the tapered point stabbed at her nakedly exposed anus, attempting to burrow into the tiny hole. Jeannette tensed in fright and wiggled her asscheeks frantically to dislodge the invading shaft. It slipped away from her, but the dog continued to thrust blindly in his dumb sexual frenzy and the tip of his glistening red penis thrust into her tender flesh over and over, causing her vagina to widen and dilate involuntarily. The dog bucked on desperately, seeking her eluding sheath and taunting her maddeningly with each jab at the hair lined slit. Once again, erotic shivers were shooting through her still dripping loins and the delightful pressure was building within her body. At last, unable to stand it any longer, Jeannette reached back through her legs and took hold of the pulsing, slippery organ, placing the narrow tip in her cuntal split. Drake whined as his long shaft slid wetly into her up to the hilt of his dark furred balls.

Groaning with relief as she felt him filling her, Jeannette began to undulate her asscheeks in time with the rapid thrusts of the panting, drooling dog. Gripping her slender waist in his forepaws, Drake hunched over her and had soon established his own rhythm of fucking, his powerful hind legs jerking with each in and out motion. Jeannette gave herself over completely to the delicious sensations of being screwed by the powerful, magnificent Shepherd, her untested body was wide awake from the stunning sexual enlightenment she had received only minutes before from her husband's boss and she hungrily sought new, more exciting erotic thrills even as her formerly prudish mind once again was beaten in its struggle to dictate what her body should do. Perspiration gathered on her naked body, trickling down between her swaying breasts that swung beneath her like ripe fruit on a forbidden tree. Chandler leaned forward, eyes gleaming with carnal lust as they locked on the flashing red cock of the dog as it buried itself from behind in the wet, hair-lined flesh of Jeannette's throbbing pussy. The insane pressure was building fast in the girl's obscenely swaying loins and she was nearly out of her mind with the wanton desire for release.

"Oooooh," she squealed through clenched teeth, "Oh, yes, yes, yes, harder, Oh, God, fuck harder," Even the animal's incredible fucking pace could not satisfy her as she ground her asscheeks backwards in an effort to capture more of the long tapered penis and squeeze it between the hotly clasping walls of her vagina. All sense of pride was lost to her, she actually reveled in the knowledge of her abject humiliation by the jerking, hairy body of the great canine. She wanted it! Oh God, she wanted his lewd animal sperm to shoot up into her belly just as John Chandler had filled her so wonderfully. She wanted the long denied bliss again, could never get enough of orgasm, now that she at last knew what it was and how good it felt. She had to cum again, she had to!

"Jesus H. Christ," Chandler exclaimed, eyes riveted to the salacious spectacle. He licked at his suddenly dry lips and absently stroked his cock that was beginning to rise again as he watched the obscene buffeting of Jeannette Delray by the big dog whose long thin penis was jabbing mercilessly into her willing cunt. How long could it go on? Drake's red tongue lolled from his mouth, dripping saliva over the girl's back to gather and run down the crevice of the upraised ass cheeks and mingle with the secretions of her seething pussy.

Suddenly, Jeannette gave a wild cry. Her long hair began to whip wildly back and forth as she went into the beginning convulsions of her climax. Her asscheeks began to contract uncontrollably and she rammed them back fiercely against Drake just as he jerked forward hard and his animal cock began to spurt its lewd sperm far up in her hungrily quivering belly. The sticky white fluid oozed from her lust tightened cunt and bathed the dog's scarlet cock, streaking the inner sides of her ivory thighs. She sagged forward in orgiastic bliss, displaying her wet, cum soaked pubic hair and rosy pink cuntlips as the dog's deflating cock was sucked out of her vagina with an a