The Neighbors' Vanity
(M+/F+, size, ream, anal, swap)

by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.org

It was a small party - ten couples and a few unattached men and women - and it was, to Erin Bentson's mind, rather a stuffy affair. Everyone seemed to be standing in little clusters, talking inanely of topics typical to cocktail parties: local and national politics, current fads and fashions, the latest scandal, ad nauseaum. The hostess, a tall, statuesque blonde whose name was Dara Danton, circulated amongst the guests with a tray of various preferential drinks - and her well-endowed husband, Tom, sat next to a slim redhead on one of the living room's two couches, putting his hand on her knee almost possessively when he thought his wife wasn't looking.

Erin stifled an involuntary yawn, knowing that Jack and she should never have accepted the Danton's invitation. Jack had quit the Seattle Sentinal three weeks ago, and everyone in the paper knew why; as a consequence, minor reporters like Tom Danton thought it socially impressive to invite Jack Bentson and his wife to their drab little parties. Yes, that was certainly the reason they had been invited; but they'd accepted anyway, knowing this, just to get out of their own house, to see some other faces, to talk with someone besides one another.

They had stayed home every night since Jack's resignation - they'd turned down two other invitations to social functions - because Jack was trying desperately to get his novel started, working twelve to fifteen hours every day, writing fifteen or twenty pages but throwing most of them away in anger and frustration. It simply wasn't going right, he had told her; the words wouldn't jell. The reason for that was a combination of things: the Department of Public Works was putting in a new sewer main on their street, and the noise of jackhammers and heavy machinery and large trucks was deafening at times; the phone seemed to ring continuously with calls from friends, well-wishers, dogs barking, power lawn mowers whining destroyed whatever moments of silence were left. He'd given it up this morning, calling the whole idea an abortion, saying that he wouldn't - couldn't - write another line in that house; he had to get away, he'd said, somewhere where he could be alone, in peace and quiet, to collect his thoughts and coordinate his ideas into the cohesive format of the projected novel. And he had to do it damned soon, too; he'd already sold the book to a major New York hard-cover publisher on the basis of an outline alone, had been given a large advance (most of which was already spent on old bills and incidentals), and he had less than eight months in which to deliver the completed manuscript. It was to be a major, lengthy work, and if he was to meet that deadline he couldn't afford to lose any more time getting started.

When the Danton's telephoned invitation had come that morning, just after Jack's remonstrations, he had told Erin to go ahead and accept, what the hell; they might as well get out of the house since it was no use in trying to continue the novel.

Dara Danton came around to where Erin and Jack were standing near the large fieldstone fireplace and asked them if they would care for another drink. Jack declined politely, and she moved off again.

He said to Erin, "I'm beginning to wonder if we shouldn't have stayed home tonight. I could've stared at the typewriter and you could've stared at me."

She squeezed his arm, smiling up at him wanly. "I think we'd have had just as good a time."

"I hate parties like this," Jack said. "They're so damned pretentious."

"I know."

"I haven't heard an honestly intelligent statement all night."

"Spoken like a true novelist," Erin said in a gently chiding voice. "Mr. Hemingway, I presume?"

"Ouch!" Jack said, recoiling in mock pain. "Your barbed wit cuts deep."

She touched the long, silky strands of her raven black hair in that unconsciously vain way women affect. "I was just teasing, babe."

"I know you were," Jack sighed. "How much longer do we have to remain at this abysmal affair, do you suppose? When can we leave without destroying our image?"

"Very shortly," Erin said. "Can you take another half hour of this?"

"Must I?"

"You must."

"This is a far, far better thing I do, as Hamlet said." Jack muttered, taking a moody swallow from his double martini.

Just then, one of the couples whom they had been introduced to upon arriving at the party - Bob and Staci Max - made their way over to where the Suttons were standing. Bob Max was short and heavy-set, with a salt-and-pepper crewcut and dark, intelligent gray eyes. He gave the impression of having once been an athlete - he was broad-shouldered and thick-chested, and the material of his Madras jacket was stretched taut across his pectorals. Looking at him, Jack Bentson thought that he probably worked out regularly in one of the local gymnasiums or health clubs. He had a broad, friendly, contagious smile and an easy-going manner. He was carrying, oddly enough, a glass of dark ale in one huge hand. His wife, Staci, was tall and lithe with brownish-yellow hair and huge, luminescent green eyes with tiny yellow flecks in the irises. She wore a clinging blue shift which hugged and caressed her slender, high- breasted body, accentuating the easy, natural sway of her tight-mooned asscheeks. She was holding onto Max's arm and smiling warmly as they approached.

"Hello there, Bentson," Max said heartily as they came up. "Lousy party, isn't it?"

"Shall I be honest about it?" Jack asked.

"Sure."

"Yes. It's a lousy party."

Max laughed deeply, with good-natured, infectious amusement. He said to his wife, "I told you I was going to like this Bentson, didn't I, Staci? He's a man after my own heart - honest and frank and totally lacking in the phony social graces."

"Thanks - I think," Jack said.

Max laughed again. His eyes shifted to Erin, moving easily over her beautifully compact, perfectly symmetrical body in a way which was complimentary to Erin - not lecherous, but openly admiring. "How about you, Erin? What's your opinion of this little affair?"

The familiar use of her first name didn't bother Erin at all; she found herself rather liking this large man. "The same as my husband's," she answered ruefully.

"Don't really know why we came," Max said. "Something to do on a Friday night, I guess."

"Same here," Jack said. They had established a common bond and he, too, found himself liking Max. And Staci, even though she hadn't spoken as yet, struck him as being an intelligent, carefree soul like her husband. On top of that, she was damned attractive, Jack had to admit; very damned attractive.

They fell easily then into conversation. As both Jack and Erin had surmised, the Max's were witty, intelligent people, interesting to talk to. It developed that Bob was an electronics salesman for a large national company, extremely successful; so much so, in fact, that he was now semi-retired, working when he felt like it. Staci, in addition to being a housewife, dabbled in oil painting in her spare time. She was very modest about that, but Max insisted that she was a tremendous talent, witness the fact that she had sold two of her seascapes for five hundred dollars each just last month.

The topic of conversation shifted, naturally, to the novel Jack was writing. The Max's had heard of it from the Dantons (no surprise there, Jack thought a little sardonically), and Bob was extremely interested in it. He asked, "What's the book about? That is, if you don't mind revealing same."

"No, I don't mind," Jack said. "It has to do with student unrest on a large California college campus. At least, that's the basic foundation of the book. I like to delude myself into thinking I've got something to say on contemporary youth - why they act as they do, what social, political, and historical precedents they have and will set, the long- range cause and effect of riots, demonstrations, dissent."

"I have a few ideas on that subject myself," Max said. "But it sounds like a hell of a book, if you can pull it off. I don't mean that at all derogatorily, you understand."

Jack grinned wryly. "Well, I'm not sure I can pull it off."

"Oh? Why?"

"I can't seem to get started on the thing. The first couple of chapters are extremely important, and I can't get them flowing. I must have written seventy-five pages in the past three weeks, of which I've salvaged maybe four or five."

"What seems to be the problem?" Max asked with genuine concern.

Jack told him - about the Department of Public Works, and the telephone ringing and the power lawn mowers whining. Max clucked his tongue sympathetically. "Sounds like you need to get off in the wilds somewhere for a few weeks."

"That's just what I need," Jack answered. "Trouble is, Erin and I aren't exactly the richest people in Seattle at the present time. Most of the publishers advance is gone, and we have a home to maintain. I just can't afford to rent, much less buy, a mountain retreat for the length of time I'm going to need."

"Then what will you do, Jack?" Staci asked in her musically soft voice.

"Grin and bear it, I guess," he replied. "Maybe, one of these days soon, I'll be able to get into the book; if that happens, all the goddamned noise in the world won't affect my work."

"You will, dear," Erin told him.

Jack grinned his wry grin. "Wifely faith. Ah, what would we creative geniuses do without it?"

Max laughed. "Behind every great man, there's a great woman," he said.

"And vice versa," Staci put in.

They all laughed, and the rapport between the two couples was fully established. They spent the next hour and a half discussing a various and sundry number of things, losing all track of time, each enjoying the company of the others. When midnight came, the party began to break up. Jack reluctantly looked at his watch, saying, "Hell, I didn't figure it to be this late. I've got to be up with the roosters tomorrow for another shot at the typewriter."

"I thought you were going to let it simmer for a couple of days, babe?" Erin said teasingly.

"Do you believe everything I say?"

"Of course."

Jack shook his head in feigned wonder. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"I've wondered about that myself."

Max's hearty laugh punctuated their conversation. "Listen," he said, taking Jack's hand, "talking with the two of you had made a pleasant evening out of what started out to be a huge bore."

"Same here," Jack told him. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Bob. And," he added gallantly, "your most lovely wife."

"That goes for me, too," Max said, his eyes moving over Erin again in that admiring way until she blushed lightly with pleasure. "What say we get together one of these days?"

"Sounds delightful," Erin said enthusiastically.

"Do you play bridge?"

"Yes, we do."

"Fine! We're a couple of tenacious players, Staci and I, but we don't play for blood. We'll make it a foursome one of these evenings soon, if you're amenable."

"That we are," Jack said.

"Are you listed in the book?"

"No," Erin responded. "What with all the calls we've been getting, we had our number changed to an unlisted one."

"If you'd rather not give it out..."

"Oh no, not at all," Erin said quickly, looking at Jack. He nodded. She gave the number to Staci, who wrote it down in a small, red leatherette notebook from her purse.

"Just don't call between seven and noon," Jack warned. "Erin just picks up the receiver and puts it back down. Cardinal rule: no talking of any kind between seven and noon."

Max chuckled. "Right."

They got their coats and bid one another good night at the door. Tom Danton, more than a little drunk by this time, pumped Jack's hand enthusiastically, urging him to be sure to give "me and the missus" an autographed copy of his book when it was published. Jack said that he would, and Erin and he went quickly to where their car was parked in front. The Max's, with Bob driving the dark green Audi Continental, waved as they pulled away from the curve.

As Jack helped her into their two-year old Ford, Erin said, "Aren't the Max's the nicest people?"

"Yes," Jack agreed. "They certainly are."

"I'm going to fuck Erin Bentson," Bob Max said, "And you, my dear, are going to help me do it."

Staci smiled, stretching languorously on the front seat of the Audi. "Of course, darling," she answered. "After all, Jack Bentson is a handsome and desirable man. I'm going to enjoy getting laid by him just as much as you're going to enjoy fucking the lovely Mrs. Bentson."

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

"Just like you love pussy, sweetheart."

Max took one hand from the steering wheel and put it on her firm, soft thigh, just at the point where the blue shift rode high on her lap. He began to stroke the feathery surface lightly. She slid over next to him and, without preamble, laid the palm of her slim hand on the crotch of his sports slacks. His prick hardened instantly at her touch through the material, and Staci said, "Mmmmmmmm, Daddy's ready, isn't he?" in a teasing voice.

"Daddy's always ready," Max said. "Just like Mommy."

Staci began to stroke his cock lightly with her palm while his hand moved higher along her thigh. She breathed into his ear hotly, saying, "How do you propose to get next to the nice Bentson couple, lover? They don't exactly strike me as swingers, so the direct approach would seem to be out."

"True," Max said. "But I've got a plan."

"What is it?"

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

"Tell me now, lover," Staci said. Deftly, her fingers found the zipper of his fly and worked it down quickly. The throbbing length of his huge rod pushed the thin folds of his underpants out through the fly opening, straining for escape. But Staci kept it imprisoned inside, stroking the rigid tool with knowledgeable fingers; she knew how to torment a man in many ways: by touch, by word, by manipulation of her own body. Max was breathing faster under her agile ministrations, and Staci shivered anticipatorily. Oh, she was going to give him a ride when they got home, all right - she really was! She could feel her cunt begin to seep warm, moist fluid, soaking the thin silk of her panty briefs, and she ground her smooth formed asscheeks down against the pliant leather of the seat. "Tell me the plan, lover," she repeated.

"We're, ohhhh, almost home," Max panted. And then, "Damn you!" as her hand rubbed more tantalizingly over his prick, using the material of his underpants to taunt and rub the blood-engorged cockhead into near-explosion. His own hand went higher along her thigh and his fingers found the dampness of her crotch. He wiggled a finger inside the leg band, dipping the tip into the secret juices of her warm, slightly throbbing pussy, causing a low, soft moan of sheer animalistic pleasure to escape her throat. "How do you like that, you little prick-teaser?" he hissed breathlessly.

"Ohhhh, lover!"

His forefinger found the quivering miniature phallus of her aroused clit, moved with provocative slowness back and forth across its sensitive surface until his wife was grinding her hips faster and faster down against the seat, her loins surging upward against his finger as if trying to beckon it to plunge deep inside her vaginal cavity. Max whispered, "You'll wait until we get home, won't you, baby?"

"Aaaggghhhh, hhmmmmmmmm!" she groaned. "Yesssss, I'll wait!"

Max grinned triumphantly, and eased his finger away from her clit, took it out from beneath her panties and let his hand rest on her thigh. She allowed her fingers to remain on his still-hardened cock, but they weren't moving now; her eyes were closed and she leaned against him, letting the sensations his probing, questing finger had caused ripple through her deliciously.

The Audi's headlights picked up the large, Colonial-style home which they owned. Max brought the large luxury automobile into the driveway and upward into the spacious two-car garage next to Staci's canary yellow Volvo, shut off the engine and the lights. He stepped out, zipping himself up, feeling the blood still pounding in his erect cock. Tease him like that in the car, would she? Well, just wait until they got inside! He'd do a little teasing of his own!

He went around to open the door for Staci, helped her out, and they went into the sprawling, maple-furnished house. Max switched on the indirect lights in the knotty pine-panelled living room and went to the impressive, well-stocked bar at one end, near the avocado-draped front window. "How about a drink, baby?" he called to Staci.

"Hmm, all right."

"Scotch?"

"No ice, lover," she nodded.

He poured two scotches and brought her one. "Let's go into the bedroom," he smiled teasingly, wrapping his big arm about her slim waist.

She pressed against him. "Will you tell me the plan then?"

"We'll see."

They entered the bedroom and Max took off his Madras jacket, throwing it over one of the maple chairs near the dresser. Staci undid the two buttons on the front of the shift and slowly, seductively, using her palms and undulating her body rhythmically, she slid the garment down, down along her body until it lay puddled at her feet. Her eyes were heavily lidded, smoky, and she watched his face as she undressed. She stood there, dressed now only in bra and panties. Tantalizingly, like an exotic dancer practicing her art expertly, she reached behind her and unhooked the bra fastenings, pulling it away from her firm white breasts slowly, making sure that the aroused, berry-sized nipples were the last to meet his hot, hungry eyes. She dropped the bra on top of the shift and then raised her hands to cup the full, rich mounds, kneading them like a lover would. Finally, she dropped her fingers to her panties and slowly worked them down over her long, tapering legs until she was standing before him completely nude.

"Like, lover?" she asked throatily.

"Christ, you're like a goddamned whore when you get in the bedroom!" Max said, but he wasn't castigating her for it. Hell, he wouldn't have had it any other way. His eyes roamed over her well-tanned body, at the fleecy, light brown down framing the wet, pink folds of her cunt. She was something else, all right; in the six years they had been married, he had never had a woman who pleased him any more than she did - whether it be suck or fuck; a few had come close to approximating her prowess in the rack, but none had ever surpassed her. That was one hell of a compliment, considering the number of women Bob Max had had in those six years of marriage.

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

"Goddamn right I am!" Max said. Quickly, he undressed, throwing his trousers and shirt and tie over the jacket on the chair, pulling his underpants down. He stood there with his great, trembling cock standing out from his groin like some impossibly huge instrument of torture, the unseeing eye in the cockhead oozing thin, clear droplets of aroused lubrications. Staci stared at it, moistening her lips with her tongue as if tasting the seeping fluid already swirling around in the warm sucking caverns of her mouth.

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

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

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

Damn! Max thought. She really knew how to get a guy heated up, talking that way, using words like she used her body, fucking you verbally if such a thing were possible. His prick quivered and throbbed in anticipation. But he owed her a little teasing for what she had done to him in the car on the way home first, before he took her up on her offer. He sat on the edge of the bed, next to her, close enough to allow her hand to snake out and encircle his fat 10-incher, to begin to stroke and then to massage the turgid length, peeling the long foreskin back and forth and then to slip her hand underneath and cup and caress his balls, cradling their softness in her palm.

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

"What do you mean, lover"'

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

"Oh, Daddy! You can tell me the plan afterwards!"

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

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

"No," Max said. He moved down to the foot of the bed, looking up at her, watching her undulate her hips, her tongue still flicking along her lips, her eyes resting hotly on the huge, granite-hard expanse of his weapon, at the wrinkled sac of his bloating balls. "Now the way I figure it, Jack is the one to work on first. He's a man, and therefore he's more susceptible than Erin."

"So you plan to get to Erin through Jack," Staci said. She stretched out her leg, frowning a little petulantly, and began to stroke his thigh with her toes, waggling her big toe upward to touch the rigid flesh of his cock until he reluctantly pushed it away and continued.

"That's right. Now I think we've got the answer on how to do it from what Jack said tonight. About not being able to work on his novel because of all the interruptions."

Staci lowered her hand and began to stroke her belly lightly with her fingertips, teasing the softness of her pubic mound, then trailing lower down between her legs so that she was rubbing in slow, even tempo the moistness of her cuntal mouth, teasing her clit. Watching her, Bob became even more aroused - she knew that he really enjoyed watching her play with herself, and she was so hot for his hard pulsating cock now that she was pulling out all stops to get him to stop talking. Bob opened his mouth to continue, but he swallowed hard at the sight of his wife manipulating her genitals, darting her middle finger in and out of her soft, hairy pussy with deft strokes in the attitude of copulation. As she did so, she pushed her asscheeks down farther on the bed, coming nearer to him, and this time he didn't pull away. Her hand seized his cock again, began to stroke it then, before he was able to fend her off, she rose up and pressed her body against his, forcing him back into a prone position across the width of the bed.

"Damn it, Staci, I'm trying to tell you about..." Max began, but then he stopped as his wife began to trail her soft, moist lips along the side of his neck, into the hollow of his throat, down along his hirsute chest. She nuzzled the rigid buds of his nipples, rolling her tongue back and forth across one, and then let her mouth roam down across the girth of his large, protruding, but well-muscled belly. He groaned at the stimulations her expert lips were sending through his body, thrust his hips down hard against the satin spread. Her fingernails scratched lightly over his cock now, over his testicles, reaching under his body to probe briefly at the puckered ring of his ass, retracing their path back to his quivering penis.

"The plan..." Max began weakly.

"You can tell me what it is afterward, lover," she crooned. "Just relax now, Daddy, and let Mommy take care of you."

Damn it, she'd won again, Max thought fuzzily, giving himself over to the prurient sensations of her lips and fingers. She always won, always got her way sexually if not in other matters; here in the bedroom, she seemed to be lord and master instead of the other way around. Not that he minded, hell, she was so damned good in bed that it didn't offend his masculine pride at all to have her get her way - because her way was invariably the best way.

Staci was poised on all fours now, kneeling between his widespread thighs, her head lowered almost to the tip of his upthrust cock, stroking the palpitating flesh lightly with first one hand, then the other, then rubbing it gently between the palms of both hands, further arousing him until moans of joy rendered from his lips. "Goddamn it, hurry up, baby, hurry up!" he groaned. "Suck it, suck it, suck it!" His hips thrust upward, but she pulled her head back out of reach, chuckling softly, still stroking and manipulating his cock and balls.

He reached up and entangled his hands tightly in her hair, trying to guide her head down to meet his forward-leaping manhood. His head was lifted off the bed, so that he could watch the lust-contorted features of her beautiful face, poised there above his loins, and his brain reeled with the mental image of his thick, pulsating cock burrowing in and out of her ovaled lips; he was excited beyond all recall now, he had to have her suck him off! He could feel the semen beginning to boil in his testicles, and he knew it wouldn't be long before it would come spewing out of his shaft like a flow of hot molten lava.

"Hurry, hurry!" he begged. "Suck it, baby, suck it!"

Suddenly, as if in abeyance, Staci plunged her head forward and down. Max felt the incredible, hot moist softness of her lips close over the sensitive head of his cock, felt her firebrand tongue lick circles of liquid fire around and around it, flicking into the cockhead opening, drinking up the lubricating fluid oozing there. His hands in her hair tightened and he thrust his loins upward, driving the length of his massive prick deep into the soft, warm folds of her mouth, feeling it slam against the back of her throat.

"Ummmmmmmmmmm!" Staci mewled around her husband's hardened rod of flesh.

"Aaggggggghhhhhhh!" Max cried in lust-crazed agreement.

Staci drew back slightly, so that she was able to taste the moist stickiness of the cockhead again, twirling her tongue maddeningly faster around the blood-inflated head. Then she began to suck him rhythmically, with all the practiced expertise of the accomplished female lover. He watched her convoluted lips working on his cock, watched the soft wet skin of her mouth pucker outward and then back in again as she sawed her mouth the full length of his rigid tool. The sight of her sucking him never ceased to increase his arousal, and his loins tensed and jerked upward into her face, all the fleshy expanse disappearing with each hard forward thrust, so that only a small stretch of it showed white and glistening with saliva wetness between her lips.

Her tongue, with a nerve-shattering lick on the outstroke, was like a separate entity, a thing gone wild with lust, making the head jerk and convulse as though it, too, were a thing alive with a mind of its own. She sucked hungrily, her mind caught up in the task of what she was doing, her concentration as full and complete as that of a scientist applying mathematical equations. Her breasts danced wildly below her pumping head, adding to the lust-inciting picture he was viewing.

"Suck it, suck it, suck it!" Max urged her on, dropping his head back on the bed heavily, closing his eyes and pretending for a brief moment that it was Erin Bentson sucking him, that it was Erin Bentson's round, lipstick-rimmed little mouth around his huge cock. Well, it would be, all right, soon enough; he'd fuck her one of these days, he was confident of that, and with the fucking went the sucking; that was irrefutable. He'd shoot his load of boiling cum deep into her throat and into her belly, and she'd be begging him for more,

Staci slaved below, her body glistening from pustules of lust-sweat. The pressure grew and grew in Max's balls, and he shoved his loins up hard against her face, hearing her protesting mumble, not heeding it in his desire for the final release of the maddening buildup of semen in his balls. And then...

And then, all at once, he felt the eruption take place, felt the first stream of white-hot fire leap along the passage of his plunging cock. He gasped, his lips pulling back across his teeth as though he were in agony. His cock began a sudden wild, convulsive jerking that flooded without advance warning Staci's madly sucking mouth with rush after rush of burning semen, bloating her cheeks outward with each spurt until she was forced to swallow wildly to keep from choking, mewling and crooning and tickling his balls with the tips of her fingernails.

"Keep, sucking!" Max cried. "Lover, keep sucking, keep suckingggggg!" His hands were working spasmodically in her hair now, ramming her head down harder on his burgeoning cock, burying it deep in her throat. And then, with one last mighty groan as his wife crazily sucked at the juices of his lust, he emptied the final drops of his cum into her mouth.

Staci continued to nibble gently at the fleshy instrument, milking every last drop of his load, until the satiated penis began to gradually deflate in her mouth. Max flung his arms outward on the bed in exhaustion, a great sigh of absolute fulfillment emitting from his lips. His wife lay for a long moment between his outstretched legs, her head on his thigh, still nibbling gently at the limp cock settling down into the cradle of his balls. Finally, she crawled up and kissed him full on the mouth. He accepted her tongue hungrily as she thrust it into his mouth, even though droplets of his white slippery cum were drooling down in thin rivulets from the corners of her glistening lips.

"How did you like that, lover?" she whispered.

"As good as always!" he enthused. "Hell, better!"

She kissed him again, and then said, "Now - I'm ready to hear your plan of action regarding the Bentson's. After which," she added, smiling down at him with her eyes sparkling hotly, "you may return the favor of my sucking you by eating my pussy until I cum as well as you did. Sound good?"

"Sounds goddamned good!"

"But first the plan."

"Well," Max said, "it's simple enough. Like I started to say before, Jack was complaining about not being able to work on his novel because of all the interruptions. What he wanted to do, he said, was get away somewhere, alone, where he could really get to work. Remember?"

"Uh-huh."

"Suppose we provide him with that retreat he mentioned?"

"You mean - our cabin on the coast?"

"Exactly," Max told her. "It's perfect."

"Do you think he'll accept the offer of the cabin?"

"Hell, why shouldn't he? He can't afford not to accept, can he?"

"Lover," Staci said admiringly, "I do believe you're a genius. But suppose Erin wants to go along with him?"

"I doubt that," Max said. "When he said he wanted to be alone, I think he meant just that. Completely alone, without even his wife. I'll call him tomorrow and put the idea to him, and we'll see if I'm right."

"And if he does accept, then I take over?"

"You take over," Max said. "I'll tell him you'll meet him up there, show him where everything is and so on. Then you're on your own." He grinned. "I have no doubt what'll happen then."

"And you'll be doing what?"

"Dropping over to see Mrs. Bentson," he answered. "I'll suggest that she and I take a ride up to the cabin, so that she can see what it's like. I'll say it'll be a surprise, that we'll all have dinner together. We'll drive up there...."

"...and just happen to catch sight of Jack Bentson and me doin' what comes naturally," Staci finished.

"Right. Of course, you'll have to make sure the two of you keep at it for a long time. No telling how long it'll be before I get his wife up there."

"No problem, lover," she chuckled. "You know me."

"Hell yes, I do," Max said. "You just love cock, Mommy, like I said before."

"And you love pussy," Staci told him. She began to push his head down along her body, moving her hips on the bed, letting her own fires rekindle hotly. "Now let's see you prove that I'm right, lover!"

Max proved it without the slightest doubt.

"Weren't the Max's nice?" Erin said again as she and Jack walked into the bedroom of their home. "I was certainly glad to meet them."

"Saved the night, that's for sure," Jack said. He sat down on the bed and removed his shoes, rubbing his feet. "If it hadn't been for them, I would literally have climbed the walls."

"Move babe," Erin said lightly. Jack stood up as she removed the spread and folded it at the foot of the bed then opened the covers. "Well, never again," she vowed as Jack settled himself back again. "I guess writers are recluses at heart anyway."

"No reason to put up with people you don't like."

"I hope to see the Max's again though. Maybe for bridge like they suggested." She backed toward her husband. "Unzip me, will you baby?"

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

"Ooohhh!" Erin gurgled, jumping forward from her husband's electric fingertips. She was ultra sensitive along the softness of her inner thighs, her skin white and marble smooth and delicate. She tingled from his touch and stepped out of the pool of the fallen dress. "Oh stop it, stop it, baby!"

Jack grinned from his sitting position, and although he couldn't see her expression, he knew from their four years of marital relationships that she was wincing with pleasure, her teeth bared with the first signs of sexual arousal. He continued to stroke his wife's legs, moving his hand up to tantalize the pubic mound so provocative under the silk crotchband of her panties. She wiggled her hips as if in protest, but didn't step away.

"Ooohhhh, ohhh, Jack! Oh Jack! I love you Jack!" Erin turned suddenly and flung herself at her husband, pinning him to the bed. She kissed him hard, cutting off the laugh he was teasingly giving her, and then they embraced passionately.

How lucky I am, Erin thought to herself, her brain swimming with her arousal. Landing Jack for a husband was a coup d'etat of the first order. She must have been courted by at least ten other men, but Jack had been constantly surrounded by other women, yet somehow she had won him away from all the other girls. He was going to be a success, she had implicit faith in that with his name lauded in the literary circles along with Hemingway, Lawrence, Roth. He was confident of his writing skill, and his columns for the Sentinel had been nationally recognized as the work of a talented writer: a really gifted man.

And she was important to him. He had told her so many times, and she made herself reaffirm the promise to herself that she would do all in her power to help him and become a partner in his success. This key element to their marriage made her love him all the more. Of course he had, by nature of his profession, to be alone most of the time, and this was sometimes difficult for her to accept. There he was, cooped up in his study, so close to her all day and yet so far away. He was so wrapped up in his novel that it seemed that they weren't as close as when he went to work at the newspaper every day. In the evenings he was so tired and frustrated that they hadn't made love as many times as before and this worried her. Not that she liked it so very much - oh, she did, but not as often as a man does - but because Jack didn't seem to respond as much as he used to.

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

And I love him,

Jack turned his head away and smiled up at his wife. She returned his smile coyly, the fire in her eyes telling him that he was wanted and wanted badly. His hands slid along her sides and then cupped the tight alabaster mounds of her asscheeks; a thrilled murmur escaped from Erin's lips. He moved his fingers higher, connecting with the tight elastic band of her panties, running his hands along the bare satiny skin. She squirmed beneath his ministrations, pushing her hot loins up into his hardening penis. She rotated her hips, nibbling his ear and neck with her mouth, and her hands gripped his shirt tightly with desire.

Then suddenly she stood up and pirouetted. She arched her back and unsnapped her bra. The white cups fell from her breasts like petals from ivory rosebuds, and she stood for a moment with the ruby-kissed tips pointing at her panting husband. Then she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and half slip and removed them in one easy, graceful motion, throwing them on the dresser beside her. She caressed her full rounded hips with her palms, lightly, wantonly, still smiling at her husband. Without a word she lay down beside him, stretching out along the king-sized bed, spreading her limbs.

Damn! Jack thought, turning to stare at her beauty. There's no other woman like her, he had to admit, and she looks just as beautiful now as yesterday or last week or last year. She was a seductive woman, no denying that, and his breath sucked in from the sudden excitement of the abandoned pose she had taken.

He raised himself on one elbow and gazed with fascination at the well- rounded perfectly formed curves next to him. She lay back against the pillow, her arms begging for him, her legs moving up and down, her toes digging into the spread, lashes shadowing her cheeks as she closed her eyes.

"Baby." she whispered softly. "Hurry, please, baby, now." She squirmed her asscheeks down into the mattress, enjoying the licentious effect her actions were having on Jack, enjoying the teasing exhibition of her body and the secret satisfaction of the power she held over him.

Jack didn't waste any more time but pulled at his clothes, not even bothering to get off the bed. It took only a moment for them to fall to the floor in a disorganized heap, and then he rolled to a kneeling position and looked down at her naked form. His thick blood-enriched penis stood out hugely from his groin.

"Mmmmm," Erin said softly. "That was quick, babe."

"I'm ready, ready right now," Jack grinned down at her. He roamed his hands over her, playing over her thighs and breasts. They stopped to tweak her nipples into rock-hard firmness, and then he ran a finger down the valley between the high-set firm white breasts. He never stopped marvelling at how magnificent they were, especially considering how small the girl was in height. She was barely five three, but the parts that mattered were enough for any man. Her face was round and cherubic, with an air of innocence about it which made his lovemaking all that more enticing. It was like making love to a virgin every time, like arousing the woman in a girl and seeing the passion overcome the natural reluctance of "the first time." Her long black hair was fine and silky and hung over her shoulders to curl across her breasts, highlighting the whiteness of her skin with its black strands. She wore a E-cup and filled it to overflowing with soft lovely globes, and between her spread legs which were shaped by a master craftsman, he could see clearly the soft pubic down which covered her pink vaginal slit. Her cunt glistened wetly in the light, her sexual excitement secreting droplets which formed like honeyed dew on her pubic hair.

Jack leaned forward, unable to control himself any longer, and he crushed his mouth against her groin, trying to suck up every sweet flowing drop of her pussy juices, brushing his tongue against her cuntal lips with yearning heat. Erin moaned but brought her thighs up sharply to stop him.

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

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

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

He held her tight to him and felt her warm body as it undulated uncontrollably beneath his body, her soft belly and pelvis grinding against his penis until it throbbed with hardness.

"Oh, baby!" Erin moaned. "Darling, darling, I need you so badly."

"Yes, yes," he managed to reply. One of his legs fell snugly between her open thighs, and she rubbed her soft hairy loins against him in perfect harmony. He kissed her again, his mouth dry with barbaric thirstiness, and she raised her thigh to press his exposed crotch. His cock seeped with lubricity from her touch, its tip being massaged by the light brush of her warm smooth skin. It jerked, jumping as though it was ready to spew its seminal fluid already. Once more he ran his tongue into her mouth, and she sucked it eagerly, even nibbling it with her sharp little teeth to send new shocks of rippling excitement through him.

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

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

"What? Oh no, of course not."

"But there is, Jack."

"I... was thinking how beautiful you are," he lied.

Erin began to shiver beneath him, her thighs rubbing his loins hungrily. "You want to make love to me, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, I want to."

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

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

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

He drew her closer to him and moved one hand down to encase the round smooth asscheeks, his hand over the soft yielding crevice which halved them. She glued her mouth to his as she wedged a hand between them and grasped his thick 9-incher. Jack choked with the cool contact of her fingers around his cock, and he pressed his lips harder against hers to show his appreciation. She strained the full length of her body against him, grinding and pushing, and then she spread her legs and thighs wide, and his penis poised proudly against the snug mouth of her waiting cunt, the thin, hairy archway to her innermost desires relaxing with the need for him to enter. She kept firm hold of his swollen aching cock and drew it closer, sliding it up and down between her open legs, swirling it around her tender, pink flesh until it's knob rested against her quivering cuntal entrance.

"There, Jack, right there."

He lunged forward, his hips thrusting heavily as he drove into her widespread pussy and felt the hot rubbery passage clasp around his cock and absorb his naked surge like a hungry lion. She rocked gently beneath him. "Uhhhh!" she murmured, and she leaned into his loins, trying to take more of him, and he levered his massive member to the full length of her cuntal tunnel. It was warm and tight as though he had been the first, and the fluids helped her take him easily, wetting and lubricating his path. He thrust lustily until his blood-swollen head hit her cervix, and simultaneously his cum-bloated testicles crashed resoundingly against the firm muscle-taut cheeks of her ass. He moved harder, flexing his prick as she moaned, imbedded beneath his driving prick.

"Oh God! Oh God!" Jack groaned, grinding his pelvis into her savagely, feeling the pliant warm flesh beneath as she strained to meet his pounding jerks until her loins were inches off the bed. He angled his hips and drove into her, trying to establish a rhythm. She breathed a mewling sound incessantly, lifting her body to meet his forward attack, opening and closing her legs about his hips as she labored frantically to climb his solid pole, her head rocking from side to side in the abandoned supplication to their fornication.

"Oooohh Jack, you feel so good! So good!" She whimpered in his ear and then licked his lips, his nose, his eyes. "Yes, yes, yeesss!"

Erin gave another gasp and screwed herself tighter to his penis until it sunk to her soft fleshy depths completely. He worked around and around in her, feeling the muscular ridges of her pussy around his smooth sliding cock, his tempo ever-increasing. His shaft continued to surge like a wild beast on a rampage until he was sure it was going to split down the seam, and the intoxicating pressure in his balls was enough to send him screaming. Oh God! Surely he was going to reach his orgasm soon, for surely he couldn't hold back much longer! He increased his speed and stroke, drubbing into her savagely as his balls whacked against her unturned thighs.

She held him tightly in her strong legs, clamping her calves crablike around his hips, only to slacken them for a second and then clamp harder. She began to babble incoherently which he knew to be a sign she was approaching her own climax, and he spurred her on with powerful long strokes. Her knees drew up as she raised herself even more fully to his battering attack, and her moist splayed pussy bucked wildly against his ramming penis, and she rode his cock wantonly as though she never wanted to cease.

"Ooooohh, Oooohhh Goooddd! I'm, I'm going, going to, cummm!" With a sudden deep-throated groan, Erin began to vibrate uncontrollably; and then Jack too released his own damned up passion. His cum churned through his boiling balls, up through the tube of his expanded cock and surged into his wife's wildly clasping cunt. He shoved his tongue harder into her mouth and cupped the globoid cheeks of her firm white ass closer around his pumping penis as he beat a wild tattoo against her with his still-emptying testicles. Erin wailed into his mouth, her questing thighs jerking spasmodically against his belly while he discharged his overwhelming load of cum violently into her. Finally, he collapsed across her, his sigh of contentment mingling with her own mewlings of gratification.

As sanity returned to him, Jack edged his body off his wife and rolled over. Erin almost asleep, kissed him lightly on the cheek, curled herself up in a child-like foetus position. He put the covers over her, and for a moment before sleep overtook him, Jack thought of her tenderly. In spite of her few Victorian hangups about oral sex, she was still pretty good in bed, he had to admit. As good as most women he'd had. He stared at Erin, trying to imagine her as a strange woman he had just finished fucking, fucking for the sake of fucking and not out of love. Like Staci for example, that beautiful creature belonging to Bob Max, that sensual enticing all-woman. My God! He could just see her in bed hungrily sucking his cock, naked and wild with prurience and desire, making love for its own licentious sake. No, no, why was he thinking like this. What would it accomplish? Besides, he could almost imagine the hurt Erin would feel if she knew of his lewd thoughts, and the outrage it would cause the Max's, for that matter. He groaned and turned over, shutting off the bedside lamp and plunging the room into darkness.

Erin woke him with a sweet tender kiss the next morning. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at his wife who held a bathrobe around her, and then he smiled, stretched his arms and yawned.

"Morning, babe," she said. "Want some coffee?"

Jack nodded, turned over and put his face to the pillow. "MMmmm," he murmured in a sleep-filled voice. Erin, by moving up from the bed, let the sunlight from the open window stream across his body, warming it beneath the covers. He dozed again until she reappeared.

"You overslept, baby," she said. "It's nearly nine."

Jack suddenly sprang awake. "What?"

"If you plan to get any writing done, you'd better start pretty soon. You know what Saturdays are like around here. I should have called you, but I lost track of the time myself."

Jack gulped some of the coffee she had brought then jumped out of bed, all thought of resting there gone. He hurriedly dressed, walked out to the kitchen where Erin was scrambling some eggs. He sat at the dinette and watched her lithe young form as she moved gracefully around in the flower-design bathrobe. Her bare legs were still tanned from the summer sun, and they were beautiful enough not to need stockings, he thought; even her small feet, not normally a beautiful or appealing part of anybody's anatomy, were cute to him. He ate the eggs and toast when she served them and even talked a little. Usually, conversation was a matter of grunts in the morning, neither of them very good at being friendly after just rising, but the coffee helped this morning, as well as the lovemaking of the night before. Sex was all important to a marriage; they both agreed to that. Again he had another momentary flash of imagining Bob Max's wife in the bed with him, and not his wife, but Jack quickly dispelled the idea from his mind as totally unthinkable.

Writing was impossible. Jack retired to the study, rolled a fresh sheet of yellow foolscap into the IBM electric typewriter and stared at the keys. No bursts of inspiration came to him. He reread the few pages he had so laboriously salvaged from the previous week's efforts, made a face as he read them and then looked back at the virgin sheet. At this rate, he was going to collect social security when he finished the novel, he thought disgustedly; and with a rush of anger, he tore the sheet from the machine, balled it up and threw it into the overflowing wastepaper basket.

Somebody started to cut his lawn down the block, and the gas engine of the mower made a tremendous racket. The man across the street added to the disturbance by starting up a power saw to cut down the limbs of an old oak tree in his front yard. Jack remembered the noise from two days previous when the neighbor had started the project. He finished his coffee morosely and walked out to the kitchen for a fresh cup. He waited, knowing full well he was procrastinating as he heated the pot on the stove.

Erin had dressed in a pair of black stretch pants and a white frilly blouse. The blouse was sheer enough to see through, and her bra molded her breasts like mountain peaks through fog. She was in the laundry room, sorting the clothes for washing. Jack knew that at twelve she was going to start the washing machine.

"Must you?" he said out loud.

"What?" Erin, not knowing to what he was referring, looked up, startled. "You mean the washing? No, baby, I don't. Of course we won't have any clean clothes next week."

Jack realized he had snapped at her for no good reason. "I'm sorry, babe, I'm just upset. First I'm late getting started today, and now all the racket." He sighed and drank some coffee. "I've got to get away someplace."

"I know," Erin sympathized.

"Up to the mountains or down to the south coast or someplace where I can go just like it was an office and I had a regular job. That's what I need: a ritual, a regular schedule like I had at the Sentinel."

Erin had heard it all before, but she nodded in agreement, knowing full well how futile the idea was with their meager savings. As she turned back to her chore with the clothes, she thought about the week's food and how to cut down on the cost a little more. Hamburger instead of roast beef, hot dogs and casseroles and no desserts,

Jack went back to the study, but for all his efforts, he wasn't able to write anything even approximately worth saving by noon. The washing machine went on as promised, and with a muffled frustrated curse Jack threw in the towel and gave up for the day.

"Going well?" Erin asked when he appeared, knowing the answer even before he said it.

"Like hell," he grumbled. He opened a beer and sat down in front of the television set to watch an old movie, disgruntled.

At one, the phone rang. Erin answered it in the kitchen and then called to Jack. He walked in and took the receiver; to his surprise, Bob Max identified himself.

"Hello Jack, how are you?" Max asked.

"Fine. Say, this is a surprise."

"Well, it was really nice talking together the way we did last night, and so I thought I'd call and tell you so."

"Thanks. Both Erin and I enjoyed it, too. You were a lifesaver."

Max laughed heartily. "Same here. Say, how's the writing coming? Did I interrupt you?"

"No, no, there were enough distractions to make me give it up an hour ago."

"That is a shame, Jack"'

"Well, I'm just going to have to learn to cope with it, I guess."

"Maybe not. That's another reason I called. Staci and I came up with an idea."

"Really?"

"We have a cabin at Salmon Creek on the Oregon coast. It's not very posh, but it has a heater and electricity and running water, and you're welcome to use it if you want."

Jack was pleasantly agape. "Well Bob, that's very kind of you to offer."

"Nonsense. Staci and I don't use it much anymore, and we'd like to have somebody up there. It's probably pretty damned musty and could use some living in so you'd be doing us a favor as much as we'd be helping you. Should have thought of it last night. What do you say? I won't take no for an answer!"

"In that case, why yes, I'll be glad to Bob!"

"Fine! Great!" Max said something to his wife about Jack accepting the offer; then there were muffled sounds and he came back on. "Say, Staci had a fine idea Jack. She has some free time this afternoon so if you want to use the cabin immediately she'll meet you there. Around four, if that's all right. She'll turn on the gas and the electricity, show you where things are and give you the keys."

"Sounds good," Jack said. "Let me talk to Erin. Just a sec." he quickly told his wife of their sudden good fortune, the Max's generous offer. His excitement was obvious. "What do you think, babe?" he asked her.

"I think it's marvelous," Erin said. Her voice was eager for him.

"Do you want to come along?"

She smiled ruefully. "Wouldn't you get more writing done if I didn't?"

"Well, yes, probably so."

"Then you'd better go alone, babe. It'll just be for the weekend, won't it?"

"I guess it will. Though if the Max's don't mind and things work out, I'll most likely want to stay."

"Well, I can join you later on if that's the case."

Jack hesitated, looking at Erin for a moment and then decided that she was right. Lord, it would be perfect! He could really get started in the novel once he was in seclusion, away from all the interruptions, and if he was alone this weekend, well, all the more work he could get done. He said into the phone as he nodded at his wife, "Sounds just great Bob. Erin doesn't think she should go for the weekend so I'll be going up alone."

"Whatever you say," Max answered amiably.

"How do I get there?"

"Take the southern freeway until you reach Portland and then pick up Highway 1. You can get directions at any service station. Follow route 1 to Hopeful Bay. Salmon Creek is about five miles north, the turnoff is adjacent to a State Fish and Game station there. Turn left and follow the road to Parkwood Lane, about a half mile in. Turn right there, and we're the fourth cabin on the right. Got all that?"

"Got it."

"Good luck, Jack."

"Thanks. Oh, and Bob, I can't tell you what this means. If there's anything I can do for you."

"Forget it," Max said. "That's what friends are for."

It took the better part of an hour to pack the Ford with the writing necessities such as pens and paper and the IBM typewriter. There was an air of joy about the whole thing, for both the Rolfes were elated at this stroke of good fortune. They talked about how nice the Max's were to help them this way, and how much in debt to them they were. At last the car was loaded; Jack kissed his wife tenderly and drove away.

The drive was pleasant, leisurely, and the several miles went by quickly. Most of it was freeway and Jack was able to make excellent time. The road from Portland to Hopeful Bay and then north to the Salmon Creek turnoff was barren of traffic and exceptionally pretty with its Northern Oregon foliage. There was no fog and the sky was clear. Jack hummed a popular tune as he drove, as though he didn't have a worry in the world.

The cabin at Salmon Creek was small and smelled of fish and salt from the Pacific Ocean nearby. It was on a slight rise with a large side window overlooking the water. The cabin was of rough-hewn salt-eroded redwood planks and the roof of redwood shingles sagged slightly in the middle; the porch was lobsided, but Jack couldn't have cared less. This was perfect as far as he was concerned, and the next neighbor was a good quarter of a mile away. No kids, no mowers, no street work crews, no telephone interruptions. Just the lapping of the waves and the cracking of typewriter keys on paper.

He drove up next to the canary yellow TR-6 Triumph sportscar parked near the porch. He assumed it was Staci Max's car and that she was already there, for it was next to the house and the stone chimney was sending wisps of smoke into the crisp air. Jack felt strangely excited as he walked across the grounds and tip the heavy plank steps to the front door. He knocked on it twice.

There was a scrape of chair legs and then the tiny patter of feet. The door opened. Staci stood easily, her hand on the knob, the other hand grasping a freshly-made martini.

"Hi!" she greeted Jack cheerily. "Come on in to your new writing studio."

He stopped, his mind stunned by Staci Max's beauty. She had been provocative at the party, but now this way, she was even more sensual. She wore short-shorts of bright orange, so tight as to show her pubic mound and its wide cleft clearly through the fabric between her thighs. Her long statuesque legs, bronzed even more than Erin's were bare and beautiful, and her belly was just as bronzed nude between the shorts and an orange halter, flat and wrinkle free. Her breasts were barely concealed by the thin strips of the halter, and Jack could almost see her nipples. Her light brown hair seemed shorter than it had the night before, and the pixie cut added to the vivacious effect her sparkling green eyes gave forth.

"Come in, Jack," she repeated with a smile, moving aside with the fluid ease of a cat. She seemed to sense his hesitation, for she laughed and took a sip of her drink. "What's the matter, Jack?" she asked coyly. "You took scared. I'm not going to eat you."

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

Jack grinned, a little self-consciously, and stepped past Staci into the cabin's interior. The walls were constructed of unvarnished redwood, the ceiling was high, with exposed studs, and the furniture was old and comfortable, mainly rattan and old leather. There was a homey, comfortable atmosphere to the cabin, and the dim, filtered afternoon light added to its warm solidarity.

As Jack crossed the bare wooden floor, Staci shut the door and followed him into the mail living room. He could smell a faint, sweet perfume, and the headiness of the scent made him slightly light-headed; images of candlelight and soft music and brandy in fine old crystal decanters flashed briefly through his mind. He shook his head, grinning his wry grin; hell, next thing you knew he would be getting romantic notions and half a hardon, which would do him no good at all since Erin was miles away in Seattle - and Staci Max was strictly out of bounds. Still, though, the lewd thoughts he had harbored about the voluptuous Mrs. Max after making love to Erin last night returned momentarily; Christ yes, she would probably be one goddamned holy terror in bed, the way she walked, and smiled, and smelled was irrefutable testimony to that.

Staci said, "Did you have any trouble finding the place, Jack?"

"No, no trouble at all."

"We were sure you wouldn't."

"This really is nice of Bob and you, Mrs. Max."

"Staci."

"Well, all right, Staci."

"It's our pleasure," she said. She smiled warmly at him, and her eyes in the pale light were dancing with hot, sparking embers. "Would you like to take the guided tour now, Jack?"

"Yes," he replied. "Fine."

The cabin had four rooms in addition to the huge main living room. There were two small bedrooms, each equipped with a large double bed and a dresser; a tiny kitchen with a stove and refrigerator; and a circumscribed sun porch with floor-to-ceiling windows running the width of the dwelling, which looked out on an oblong, fenced-in rear yard with several pieces of lawn furniture and quite a few large shrubs and bushes. Beyond the fence were rolling sand dunes, extending for about five hundred years, and the dark, blue-black, white-capped surface of the Pacific Ocean.

Staci concluded the tour on the sun porch, saying, "You could work out here, Jack. Pull the bamboo blinds if the light gets too strong for you." She indicated an oval redwood table at one end of the porch. "You could use that as your desk."

Jack looked around. "Sounds great," he said. "Are there any electrical outlets here? I've got an electric typewriter."

"Behind the settee there."

"Good. Perfect, in fact."

"Well," Staci said, smiling at him, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. "Are you planning to do any work tonight?"

"I don't know," Jack mused. "I usually do my best writing in the morning. I could work a little tonight, but I'd probably be wiser to get a very early start in the morning."

"Then you wouldn't be averse to having a drink with me, would you?"

"Why, no, not at all. In fact, I think I could use a drink after the drive."

"Would you mind doing the honors, sir?" she asked lightly.

Jack grinned. "Not at all."

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

He allowed her to lead him back into the living room. The touch of her fingers on his hand had an odd, tingling effect on Jack; it was as if there were tiny, hidden electrodes beneath her skin, vibrating through to his flesh. He felt a certain dryness to his throat, and his eyes were on the undulating rhythm of her rounded asscheeks through the tight orange shorts. Damn, but she was a hell of a sensual woman! he thought. If he wasn't married, and she wasn't married, well, there was no use thinking about ifs, getting himself all worked up over nothing.

There was a roll-out bar near the large stone-and-mortar fireplace at one end of the living room. As she slid the compact unit out of the redwood wall, Staci said, "I'm afraid we really don't have much of a liquor supply here. We seldom use the cabin."

Jack bent over to peer at the bottles. "Vermouth, sweet and dry; ruby port; and, what's this?" He lifted a large bottle of clear liquid from the shelf.

"Ouzo," Staci said, smiling. She was standing very close to Jack now, her hand brushing lightly against his arm. "My favorite! Do you like it, Jack?"

"I don't think I've ever had any."

"It's very good," Staci told him. "It's a Greek liquor. Tastes a little like licorice."

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

"You don't," Staci said. "It's served over ice. I'll get some from the refrigerator."

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

"No, Ouzo does, too," Staci lifted her glass, waited until he followed suit, and then said, "A toast. To your novel, and its ultimate success."

"Thank you, ma'am." Jack sipped the drink, found that it did taste a little like licorice and that it wasn't at all bad; in fact, it went down quite smoothly.

"Like?" Staci asked.

"Hmmmm!"

"Shall we sit down on the couch?"

"All right."

They sat down. It seemed to Jack that Staci sat rather close to him. She crossed one slim, tanned leg over the other, tightening the material of her shorts into the sharply-defined slit of her crotch, making the folds of her pussy bulge out in bas-relief the brilliant orange of the material. She leaned forward slightly, holding her drink in one hand, so that a good deal of the creamy white mounds of her full, globular breasts were exposed to him - and just a hint of the ruby hardness of her nipples. He felt a slight flush start on the base of his neck, but he wasn't able to take his eyes from her provocative lushness. His prick spasmed once, twice, beneath his trousers with beginning arousal. Quickly, feeling a little ashamed, he took a long deep pull at his glass draining the Ouzo.

"I'll make us another one," Staci said, taking a healthy sip of her own drink. Before he could protest, she slid off the settee, took his glass, and went to the bar. She was chuckling quietly to herself as she refilled their glasses from the bottle of Ouzo. The liquor was one of the world's finest and most subtle aphrodisiacs, though most people were unaware of the fact; she'd been drinking it for a number of years, and knew the effect it had on the masculine libido after three or four. It increased her own Sexual fervor, too, though she could control herself if she felt like it; not that she was going to feel like it, of course. Yes Jack Bentson was hers now, no mistake. She felt initial droplets of fluid begin to flow from the sensitive walls of her cunt as she thought about what would be taking place within the next hour. Oh, she was going to throw a fuck that Mr. Jack Bentson would never forget. Never!

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

Jack felt a warm, relaxed lethargy begin to flow over him. The drinks were beginning to have an effect on him, he knew that, but the feeling was so pleasant that he really didn't care. So what if he got a little drunk tonight? As long as he didn't get really bombed, so that he had such a hangover he couldn't work in the morning, why what the hell? Why not celebrate? The use of this cabin, and the philanthropy of the godsends that were the Max's, merited celebrating; and, of course, it wasn't every day that a man had the opportunity of getting mildly looped with a woman as beautiful, as provocative, as Staci Max.

She was really something, he thought admiringly. She exuded pure animal sex, like a kind of miasma encompassing her invisibly as she walked, moved, spoke. What he'd like to do, really like to do, would be to reach out at this moment and take her in his arms, kiss her, love her up a little, oh, not anything more than that, he wouldn't fuck her or anything, but Lord it would be nice to kiss those soft red lips, caress those hot-looking white breasts, tweak the nipples into rock- hardness, take each one in his mouth and roll it around and around his tongue.

He felt his cock jerk into sudden, instant rigidity, as if it were alive, as if it were straining for release from its cloth prison. He tried to will it limp again, to banish the lewd thoughts swirling in his mind, but it remained throbbingly blood swollen. Guiltily, his eyes went to Staci's face.

She was looking at the bulge in his pants.

And she was smiling with half-parted lips and fervid eyes.

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

"I... well, I, ," he stuttered.

Staci laughed deep in her throat.

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

"I know what it is," she whispered. "I know why you have a hardon Jack."

His breath quickened at her vernacular term. "You, you do?"

"You have a hardon because you want to fuck me," she said. "That's right, isn't it, Jack" You do want to fuck me, don't you?"

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

She leaned close to him, and he could feel her breath on his cheek, like the scorching heat of a white-hot firebrand. She touched his knee, lightly, but her fingers seemed to sear right through the cloth. "Well, Jack"' she asked. "Wouldn't you like to fuck me? Wouldn't you really?"

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

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

And she reached out and touched the throbbing bulge.

He almost lept off the couch in a convulsing reaction to the electrical shock of her touch on his sensitive penis, encased though it was. Staci stroked it lightly, tantalizingly, sliding closer to him as he tried to pull back, increasing the rhythm of her strokes. Her breasts pressed hotly, softly against his arm, and her lips found his jaw line, traced a pattern upward along his cheek and then over to search for his mouth. Her tongue trailed a path of liquid fire along the skin of his face as her hand continued to rub his already uncomfortably swollen prick.

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

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

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

He couldn't help himself. The words tore from his throat, in a strangled kind of whisper that he scarcely recognized, and then his mouth was grinding against her, his tongue was flailing deep, deep into her mouth. Staci's hand began to move faster on his turgid prick, and she sucked and nibbled at his tongue, swirling her own tongue around and around his, darting it into his mouth and then drawing it back to accept the onslaught of his probing member. As if with a will of its own, Jack's left hand came up and found her breast, squeezed and kneaded the flesh momentarily, then dipped inside the orange halter to draw the garment down and away, exposing her nude breast with its fiery nipple and dark brown areola. He could feel the wetness from the seminal fluid which seeped from the gland on the hardening tip of his prick as she continued to massage him with a practiced thoroughness until he thought the head would surely erupt.

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

My God! he thought wildly. No, this is wrong, all wrong, I'm a married man, a happily married man, this is wrong, it's sick, Jesus, what would Erin say? What would she say if she could see what was happening right now, my hand on another woman's breast and that woman's hand stroking and rubbing my cock, I can't go through with it, I just can't.

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

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

"Y-yes," Jack managed to answer. "What, what are we doing, what we were leading up to, Christ Staci, it was crazy, it was all wrong."

"Was it?" she asked.

"Yes, of course."

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

"Yes, yes."

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

"Jesus, Staci!"

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

"I... I Iove my wife."

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

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

He jumped up from the couch, standing with his back to Staci, staring at the wall again. His heart hammered violently in his chest, and he was aware that his prick was still granite-hard in his pants, that it was still seeping hot droplets of lubrication. But he had to compose himself, find a way to get Staci to leave, or better yet to leave himself, to get far, far away from her and to hell with the goddamned novel,

Staci's voice whispered huskily behind him, "Jack, lover."

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

She stood before him completely nude.

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

"Well, lover?" she asked "Do you like what you see?"

"Staci." Her name choked past his swollen throat, but that was all. He couldn't say anything else. He could only stare at her, at her loveliness, at her completely lewd, wanton pose - and his cock began its maddening pulsations again in his pants.

Slowly, slowly, Staci lifted her hands, her eyes fastened on his, and began to slide her palms up and down, up and down, along her silky sides from the outer swells of her breasts to her flanks. Then she cupped her tits, kneading them lightly, pushing them out toward him as if presenting him with two forbidden but delicious gifts of flesh. Then her hands were stroking her belly, moving down ever so slowly until the tips of her pink-tinted nails were just touching the golden brown fleece of her pubic triangle. She held that pose for a long moment, thumbs pressing against her slender, sculptured sides, fingers splayed across her belly. Jack stood as if transfixed, unable to move, unable to speak, captured totally and completely by the strange fascinating allure of this woman before him, the absolute lustful sexuality of the scene he was witnessing. His penis seemed to be screaming with his ever-increasing arousal.

Slowly, Staci's hands began to move again, the fingertips dipping lower through her soft downy pubic hair, blazing a path toward the glistening pink slit between her legs. When she reached it, she placed the thumb and forefinger of her left hand on either side of the soft, glistening lips and spread them slowly, slowly, apart, revealing the trembling pink bud of her erect clit to Jack's lust-ridden gaze. With her right forefinger, then, she traced down, down, until the tip came in contact with the miniature phallus. She began to stroke it, titillating it back and forth, round and round, sending more rivulets of her lubrication trailing down her inner thighs. And while she stroked her clit, rubbing her finger in madening cadence along the gaping crevice of her wet, pink cunt, she began to talk to him in her droning, mesmeric voice.

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

On and on she intoned, and the words - the absolute perverted obscenity of what he was hearing - lashed Jack's mind into a swirling frenzy. Oh Christ, he had to have her! He didn't care about Erin, he didn't care about anything now, the only thing that mattered were Staci's lewd, vile words in his ears, the sight of her manipulating her own genitals in surging billows of heat in his balls as his cum churned and rolled, begging for release. He had to have her, yes, yes! He had to fuck her!

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

He followed her mutely, blindly, like a faithful dog after its master, his body and his mind afire with his consuming passion. she led him into one of the two bedrooms, stepping over to the bed, lying back on it with her legs spread as wide as she was able to splay them. "Get naked, lover," she whispered up to him. "I want to see the big rod of yours. I want to see how well hung you are. Show me your cock, lover. Let me see it."

With numbed fingers, mindless with desire, Jack undid his belt, took off his trousers, his shirt, stepped out of his shorts. He stood there before her, as if waiting for queenly approval, his thick, blood-raged shaft standing out at right angle from his loins, quivering, drooling fluid from its blind eye.

"Oh, it's lovely, Jack, just lovely. As big as I knew it would be." She laughed very softly. "You do want to put it inside me, don't you? Tell me you want to put it inside me."

"Yes, yes, I want to put it inside you!" The words leaped from his throat hoarsely, in a voice he had never heard before.

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

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

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

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

"Yes, lover, that's the way! That's the way I want it!"

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

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

Staci's hands were running wildly up and down along his body, tracing the hard muscles of his shoulders, the cleft of his back, the hirsute cheeks of his ass, exploring all of him as if he was an uncharted island and she as inveterate explorer. His cock rested hard, trailing dribbles of liquid, against her thighs, pressed into the narrow, hairy slit of her cunt. She arched for a moment, levering their entwined bodies up with the strength of her back. She reached under her asscheeks, then, with both hands, pulling her vaginal lips slowly apart, giving his cock greater contact with the moist, sensitive flesh as it lay cradled in the full length of her wet, throbbing crevice. She relaxed, dropping her body back to the bed, his rigid shaft trapped hotly between her down-soft thighs.

He forced his hands between her shoulders and the bed and ran them down the soft curves of her back and hips, making little mewling sounds deep in his throat. The raised ridges of her spine felt hot, white-hot, to him as she undulated her body against him in slow, teasing rhythm. The sinews of her muscles rippled lightly just under the thin tanned skin, giving testimony to the secret, predatory power she possessed. The tenseness of the cords in her thighs pressed against the outside of his hips, and he wondered vaguely how they would grip around him moments from now, when he sent his pistoning cock burrowing deep, into her innermost depths.

"You feel good, lover," she breathed. "All of you feels good, but your cock feels the best of all." Her nails trailed across his back, leaving small red welts in their sharp path. Jack pushed his hands farther down beneath her, cupping the fullness of her ass in the palms of sweat- slick hands, pulling her crotch hard against him. He moved up and down the fiery slit, sensing it grow wetter and wetter as her passion seethed out of her. Her asscheeks began a more desperate rotation up against his loins until her legs, without warning, snaked out wide on either side of him, her calves locking against the back of his thighs, pulling him tighter to her. "Oohhhh, fuck me!" she wailed. "Fuck me now, Jack lover, fuck me, fuck me, fuckkkkkmeeeeeeee!"

He began to thrust forward, but her pelvis was already grinding forward and her hands were already between their bodies, circling around his palpitating cock to guide it between the lips of her surging cunt. Jack groaned animally as he felt her hands move his prick up and down between her legs, running the length of her crotch, parting the soft, fleecy hair of her pussy with the sensitive, blood-excruciating now, and he knew he couldn't hold back another second. Now! He had to fuck her now!

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

"Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhh!" she screamed beneath him.

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

"OOooooohhhhhhhh!" she screamed again. "Ohhhh, that's it, lover, that's the way to fuck me, that's itttttt!"

Jack ground his pelvis into the squirming pliant flesh beneath him, fucking into Staci with long, hard strokes. She strained back under him, arching her loins up at him, lifting them both a few inches off the squeaking, already-sweat-soaked bedspread. She moaned and mewled wildly under his pounding, driving body now, opening and closing her legs around his hips as she worked up and down in a pagan rhythm. Her mouth gaped open wide, her head flailing from side to side in wild, insane abandon.

"Ohhhh, it's, good, lover, good like I knew it would be, oooohhhhh yessssss! That's the way, that's it. Now shove your finger in my ass! Do it now, Jack, do it now! Shove your finger in my ass and make me scream for you!"

In slave-like obedience, Jack reached under her, between her rotating asscheeks as he drove his pistoning cock into the hot moistness of her pussy. He stretched the moons of her ass wide with his hands, and then dipped his middle finger toward her ass, found it. A small stream of warm moisture was running down the widespread crevice from where he was fucking into her. It lubricated the tight puckered anal ring, and he probed experimentally for a moment. Then he thrust forward with his middle finger, hard, feeling the rubbery opening yield slightly; suddenly, the nether ring gave way completely, and his finger slid in up to the first knuckle in the tight elasticity of her anal passage. She leapt her body upward to crash into his with a wet, slapping sound at the sudden, lancing pain of his digital entrance. And then she was screaming for him, saying, "Aaaagggghhhh, it hurts, it hurts, but I like it, I like it!"

He thrust again, sinking his finger to the second knuckle.

"Oooooooohhhhh! Yesssss, that's it, hurt me, hurt me!"

Despite her cries, he felt Staci suddenly begin to screw her asscheeks back down on his worming finger until it was sunk to the palm of his hand. He waggled it inside her fleshy passage, eliciting more cries of pain and passion from her. He could feel through the thin wall of flesh separating her two passages, the underside of his driving prick sliding in and out of her wet cunt; he timed the thrusts of his finger with the forward stabs of his monstrous rod, impaling her on two strong, hard, immovable objects. She groaned wildly under him, and he could feel his cock growing and expanding inside her until it felt as though it were going to burst from the exquisite pleasure building in his balls. He had to cum soon, he had to, he had to! If he didn't cum, he was going to go out of his goddamned mind! Oh Jesus, he had never known it could be like this, this good, never, never!

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

"Aaaaaggggghhhhh, fuck it, that's it, lover, fuck it hard. Fuuuuuuucccccckkkkkiiiiittttt!"

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

And then: "I'm, there, oh God I'm there! I'm... cuummniiiiinnnggg!"

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

Jack felt the warm, gushing juices of her climax seethe and flow around his thundering cock as he battered his body brutally against hers, as she locked herself up on his prick with all the power in her thighs, as her loins spasmed convulsively against his belly. And then the great, swirl of heat which were building, building in his testicles became unbearable, and he gasped again and again, and finally the hot slippery load began its frenzied rush from his bloated balls along the tube of his cock. He began to spew hot, thin streams into her sucking cunt in a seemingly never-ending burst, emptying his very being deep, deep up into the warm inner depths of her lusting pussy. He moaned his last final droplet, an eternity later, and then his cock began to deflate; he withdrew it slowly, with a soft poppping sound, trailing thin gossamer-like threads of semen along her belly as he rolled over beside her, his mouth open and his breath wheezing forth like a gaffed sea bass.

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

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

Erin. His wife's name echoed again and again in his mind, and a small part of him tried to make the guilt, the shame, come; but the virile man fought the thoughts away, and he simply lay there, feeling the warm heat of the woman next to him, smelling the musk of her perfume and the permeating scent of their consummated lust.

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

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

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

"Yes, oh, yes!"

"After that, we'll take a towel and go out in the rear yard. We'll sixty-nine under the open sky. Have you ever done that before, Jack?"

"No, God, it sounds wonderful!"

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

As she bent her head to his cock and his balls again, Jack knew that this was going to be an afternoon he would not soon forget.

When the doorbell rang, Erin Bentson was busily vacuuming the living room. With Jack gone, she had decided that it was a good time to do a little spring housecleaning; she had been hard at that chore - rearranging furniture, waxing floors, dusting, vacuuming, cleaning out closets and cupboards - since he'd left for the Max's cabin some two hours earlier. She hadn't even paused to fix herself anything to eat.

At the sound of the door chimes, she switched off the vacuum and ran one slender hand through her long raven hair. She looked down at her attire - black, stirrup-footed stretch pants and a sleeveless, pale green jersey blouse - and ruefully hoped it wasn't anybody important (like Jack's agent or somebody, even though she knew that was ridiculous). She padded across to the door and opened it, and her eyes widened in momentary surprise. But then she smiled warmly and said, "Why, hello, Bob! This is a pleasant surprise!"

Bob Max smiled cheerily at her. "Hi, Erin looks like you've been doing a little housework."

"A lot of it, actually," Erin corrected lightly. "Won't you come in?"

"Thanks." He stepped in past her. "Nice little place you got here," he observed.

"Well, it's pretty small. As soon as Jack finishes the novel, and we get the rest of the money according to his contract, we're going to move into something a little larger."

"Don't pick Sea View," Max said "Too damned much fog."

Erin laughed. "Can I get you something, Bob?"

"No, thanks. Listen, Erin, the reason I dropped over is that I had a great idea. I was sitting home, staring at the television, and I got to thinking how you were likely home all alone, too. Well, since our spouses are both at the cabin in Salmoon Creek, I said to myself, 'Why shouldn't Erin and I drive down and meet them there? We could all have dinner together, to sort of celebrate things'." He grinned down at her. "What do you think of the idea?"

"Well, I don't know. If Jack's working on his novel."

"I don't really think he'd mind. After all, this is the first day up there; he's going to have many more of them in which to work. I thought it would be enjoyable for all of us. And it'll give you a chance to look over the old man's new workshop."

"Well." Erin said again. "All right, maybe it would be fun at that. Shall I change my clothes?"

"Heck, no," Max answered. He waved a hand to indicate his polo shirt and sports slacks and canvas shoes. "Ultra-casual, that't the epitome of sartorial elegance, as far as I'm concerned."

Erin chuckled appreciatively. "Okay, then. But if my husband is angry, you'll have to shoulder the blame," she teased.

"Deal."

Erin fetched her purse. She debated briefly putting away the vacuum, and straightened up a little more - and then decided that that could wait until tomorrow. She would have plenty of time for continued housewifely chores then.

Gaily, she took Bob Max's arm. "Shall we go, Sir?"

"By your leave, madam."

They were both laughing as they climbed into Max's impressive Audi Continental parked in front.

The drive from Seattle was beautiful and relaxing, and Erin sat next to Bob Max with pleasure. She talked continually, usually about nothing in particular or especially important. Things were finally going well for her, for Jack, and she felt the need to talk, to release some of her bubbling enthusiasm. Max smiled and drove the Continental with one ear cocked toward the young, beautiful woman.

Occasionally Max would add something, but only to praise Jack, and this made Erin all the more glad that she had decided to accompany him. The miles passed swiftly, and the quiet comfort of the luxury automobile made the passage of time effortless. Yes, Erin was at the very height of happiness. Her husband could get the book finished at last, she would not be worried nearly so much over him, and the two of them had met just the finest of people, the Max's,

Shortly after they passed through the Suburbs Max said: "Reach in the back, Erin, and open the ice chest, will you?"

Erin turned her body, noticing the bright red styrofoam container balanced on the rear seat. Max watched her as she moved, her legs stretching the elastic of her pants as she brought them up under her, as she swivelled to lean over the back rest. Her breasts were outlined against the thin jersey blouse, the material clinging to the bra underneath so that her protruding hillocks were shadowed and detailed provocatively. She flattened them against the cushions as she leaned, and Max gave out an involuntary groan of desire, for he wanted to have his palms around those breasts, squeezing and kneading and pressing them into the same kind of shape. She kneeled on the seat, exclaiming, "Oh! What did you bring along, Bob?"

"Open it and see, Erin." He brought his vision back to the highway, his tongue licking dry, hungry lips. "I wasn't sure whether Jack would have thought to stop for groceries, so there's some steaks in there, along with some leftover cole slaw and some other things."

Erin laughed and squirmed her tightly-encased asscheeks in an unconscious way. "You're probably right about Jack. I don't think he'd remember me, once he's there by himself. That book seems to have taken over everything."

Max chuckled. "Well, it'll all work out for the best, if the book is a success. Which I'm sure it will be."

Erin started to turn around again, but Max stopped her, placing a hand on her upper thigh. "Grab the thermos in there, will you, Erin?"

She hesitated from the touch of his friendly, almost too friendly - hand on her leg. Oh, his morals were unquestionable, of course, and she felt perfectly safe with him in the car, but still a faint, swiftly passing mental image of him, a perfect stranger, lewdly grasping and pawing her, rippled with cold dread through her mind, and she froze, shivering slightly.

The hand stayed a split second too long, she thought, but before she could object or move away, or really become aware that the hand was the menace her intuition warned her it was, Max placed it back on the steering wheel.

"And a couple of those plastic cups, too," he added.

It must have been her imagination, Erin thought, returning to comply with his request. She lifted the lid of the case and on top of the cubed ice, packed next to the butcher-paper-wrapped steaks, was a large, ribbed aluminum thermos jug. The cups were handily beside the thermos, and she took two along with the thermos as she rolled around to face front again.

"What's this, Bob?"

"Well, it was for tonight, but I've developed a thirst for some reason..." he paused, smiling at her warmly but honestly.

She unscrewed the thermos cap and poured a small cupful of its contents. "What is it?"

"Vodka Collins. I made them before I left today." Again the open, frank, almost boyish grin crossed his features. "See that? I remembered."

"Remembered?" For a moment Erin didn't understand, and then she recalled asking him to fetch her a drink at the Danton party. "Oh, you mean...." She had to smile back. "Yes, it is my favorite drink. In fact, about the only one I really like."

"Have some, then," he urged.

"I don't know, it's too early in the day."

"Go ahead. There's plenty."

Erin poured herself a glass and slowly sipped the Collins. As she did, a vicarious thrill, brought about by the teenage act of drinking in a car, completely blanked out her fleeting fear of a moment previous. "Mmmmm. This is good, Bob," she enthused.

"I used to be a bartender years ago," he said proudly.

Well, now, Erin thought as the car sped on towards Salmon Creek. This is really the last word, drinking in the middle of the afternoon with a strange man in his fancy Continental. A little twinge of schoolgirl guilt made her giggle inwardly, and her mind recalled a long-ago drive- in movie when she was in her freshman year of college, and the six- packs of beer her date had taken along, and her abandoned actions after the alcohol had gotten somewhat to her. Another shiver crossed her mind, and the fuzzy picture of that night returned, as it had many times. That was the night after she had first seen a man's erect organ, standing like a sentry, guarding the trouser's open fly - and the first time she had handled one, though not allowing it to capture her virginity. But close, so close,

Well, that was enough of that kind of thinking! She pressed her asscheeks into the cushion, "Here's to Jack," she said.

"Here's to him, all right. I hope he gets everything he deserves, Erin. Everything."

She took a heavier swallow from her cup, the bittersweet liquid warming her belly with comfortable fire. She had to watch it - she hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast. But before she could protest, Max had picked up the thermos from the seat and refilled her cup, placing his empty cup down as he did so. She in turn refilled his.

By the time they reached the Salmon Creek turnoff, Erin was happier than ever. The liquor had soothed her into a mellow effervescence. As they approached the redwood cabin, she recognized the Ford in front as Jack's and hers, and with a squeal, she said: "Are we there, Bob? Oh, is that the cabin? It's lovely!"

Max had to laugh at her impassioned words, and was tempted to reach over and squeeze her leg again; but he remembered her rather negative reaction to his familiar attempt earlier, and decided against it. He drove up next to the Ford, and shut off the quiet engine and stepped out. The sand was noiseless under his feet. He shut his door as quietly as he could, and Erin latched the passenger door with feminine grace, making not a sound.

Perfect, he thought, perfect. Now if everything was as planned...

Erin impulsively locked her arm with his as they walked to the cabin. "They must be inside," she said. They walked to the front window and she peered in. "Oh, this is perfect, Bob. It really looks comfortable inside. But I don't see Jack and Staci."

"Oh, they're around somewhere," Max answered, his face slightly frowning as though he was somewhat worried. "The cars are here." Then he turned and smiled. "Perhaps they took a walk down to the beach."

Suddenly, the sounds of giggling and girlish twittering reached Max's and Erin's ears. It seemed to be coming from around to the rear of the cabin.

"Oh God, Staci, you fuck like Aphrodite personified!"

Erin froze, her mind, so full of happiness, torn asunder by the crude, lascivious sentence she had heard. Her face contorted with confused horror, and she turned to Max. Her breath seemed choked in her throat like a lump of molten steel. "Wha-what was that?" she managed.

"I don't know. It sounded like a man. Like Jack!" he whispered.

Max, the picture of indignation and anger, grabbed Erin's tender hand. "C'mon, let's see what the hell is going on!"

"But Bob, I..."

They were interrupted by the sound of more lewd words, this time from a woman's lips. Erin couldn't believe it, but the voice sounded exactly like Staci Max's!

"Oooohhhhh, yes, oh yes, Jack! I love it, I love it like that! Now kiss me! Lick my cunt, my flaming cunt before the juices all run out! Ohhhh!"

Erin was almost pulled off her feet by the prodding Bob Max. She wanted to run, to flee from what her brain told her was an impossibility - but yet an all too real reality. She felt like the heroine in a cheap Hollywood horror movie, about to open the iron-clad vault door and let the monster loose. She tried to stall, to dig her heels into the ground, but the sand was too soft and Max's strength too much. They rounded the corner of the building, the murmurings growing louder and the moans of passion now becoming distinct.

"You like fucking me, don't you, Jack?"

"Yes, God, I like it. I love it! Your pussy is like some magic perfume of the Gods, sweet, so sweet!"

"Turn around, lover. I want to taste your cock while you suck me." There was silence for a moment, and Erin heard the rustling of bodies upon a sheet or blanket as the man - no longer just a man, but her Jack, her husband! - turned to do as bid.

Still confused, still unready to accept the fact of her husband's infidelity so callously at hand, Erin let Max take her to the rear wall of the cabin; and there, hidden by the overgrown bushes, she peered onto the sandy stretch of back yard. She took one, quick glance, and her whole, wonderful world shattered like crystal glass. She tried to scream, to yell, to blot out the scene she was witnessing, but the horror, the outrageous deflation of her soul, was too great. Abjectly, she turned and buried her now tear-streaked face into the comforting broadness of Max's chest.

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

What she had so briefly seen was Jack and Staci Max locked in the age- old embrace of mutual oral manipulation. They were lying on a fluffy beach towel, completely nude, their hands coursing over each other's hot, sweating bodies, their mouths and tongues buried in each other's pubic area. They squirmed and writhed as though demon possessed, the wet, lewd sounds of their mutual sucking resounding through the salty air.

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

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

Max smiled cynically and folded his arms about her protectively. "It's true, Erin. I'm afraid it's true."

She shuddered. "They're acting like, animals!" She tried to blank out the horrid, disgusting scene, but her mind's eye kept focusing on the picture of Jack and Staci in their perverted pose. How could he do such a thing? She remembered the previous night, when he had tried to push his head down on her own sexual genitals and she had stopped him. And now he was doing that to another woman.

Almost hypnotically, Erin turned and saw again the fantastic sight before her. All she saw or cared about was the horrible lewdness being performed on the towel, and she gaped in disbelief, her eyes absorbed by the passionate writhing. Staci was at a fever pitch, her ovalled mouth straining to almost swallow whole the rigid penis pumping between her cheeks, and as Erin watched, Staci let the cock bury itself all the way up to Jack's pubic hair, so that none of the fleshy rod was left to view. My God! thought Erin, through her horror, Staci must surely choke with all of him in her throat that way.

Erin sucked in her breath as her husband took his hands and spread Staci's fleshy inner thighs yet farther apart, his thumbs grazing her pussy as he splayed the woman wide. Her moist, blood-engorged slit was in full view, the throbbing surface matted with his saliva. Then Jack dropped his head again, and Staci's writhing cunt was once more lost from sight. She moaned deep in her throat and locked her legs around Jack's head, her hips moving with the rhythm of his burrowing tongue.

Involuntarily, subconsciously, Erin found herself beginning to yaw with Staci's undulations as Jack continued to lick the woman's crotch. "I can't stand it!" she gasped, steeling herself to cease the sympathetic movements of her body. "Stop them, please! We have to go out there and stop them!"

"No," he said.

"But you can't, that's your wife, and, we must stop them!" Her words were a jumble of incoherency, almost idiot's babbling. Max knew that she was almost ready to crack, and that it was time to take her away. Her mind was filled with wretchedness, and to make her view more might jeopardize his plan. The last thing he wanted to do was make a scene now. Later, but not now. He turned her head away from the couple and looked deeply, concernedly into her glazed eyes.

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