Joan couldn't quite understand her own feelings as she walked into the kitchen. It was much brighter than in the living room, and she was again conscious of the nudity of her lower body from the bottom edge of her blouse to the tops of her gartered stockings.
She realized with a little sense of shock that when she had Tom's prick in her mouth she not only expected to be fucked but was eager for it. Now that her blood had cooled slightly her uneasy sense of right and wrong had again taken over. She felt that Tom Carter with his sadistic turn of mind had deliberately slowed things down so that her feeling of humiliation could be rekindled and enhanced.
She realized with a little sense of shock that when she had Tom's prick in her mouth she not only expected to be fucked but was eager for it. Now that her blood had cooled slightly her uneasy sense of right and wrong had again taken over. She felt that Tom Carter with his sadistic turn of mind had deliberately slowed things down so that her feeling of humiliation could be rekindled and enhanced.
And to be screwed in broad daylight on her own kitchen table! What could be more mortifying than that?
Tom was within two paces of her when she turned around after reaching the formica-topped table. He was grinning his crooked, leering grin, his erection still protruding from his unzipped pants. At sight of his massive rod pointing at her Joan licked her lips. If she was going to get that fleshy instrument thrust into her velvety cunt-lips, and if there was nothing she could do to prevent it-well, there really wasn't, was there?
Tom was staring into her confused eyes.
"Ready, baby?" he asked. He touched his prick. "Ready for this?"
"N-no," she felt obliged to deny the rebuilding excitement mounting inside her. "N-not really."
"You've cooled off," he said. "Let's fix that." He placed both hands on either side of her nude waist, lifted her from the floor, and sat her down on the edge of the kitchen table.
Joan immediately squirmed furiously, trying to lift her bare bottom from the smooth surface. "Ohhhhh, God, that's c-cold!" she cried out.
Tom laughed as he held her down on the table. "You'll warm it up with that built-in heater between your legs," he said. He stepped back from the table when she stopped struggling. "But we've got to get the heater heated first. Go ahead and play with yourself down there."
Oh, no! Joan thought. He wants me to finger myself right in front of him! "It-it doesn't help much," she said hurriedly. "I mean-I mean I can seldom bring myself off. Even my roommate in college said I was-I was terrible at it."
"Did you hear what I said?" Tom Carter's voice was harsh again. "Go ahead and play with yourself. Now!"
The humiliation was too great. Weak tears spurted from Joan's eyes and ran silently down her pale cheeks, but her right hand moved down across her stomach toward the juncture of her thighs.
"Pull your legs up!" Tom ordered. "Let's get a look at this show."
Still sitting on the chilly formica-topped table edge, Joan raised her knees to her breasts. The movement revealed her entire sex-structure to him as her slightly-parted pussy-lips in their hairy golden nest were fully exposed. "Now masturbate yourself!" Tom demanded.
Still crying, Joan's reaching fingers parted the fragile blonde hair around her twat-opening. Tom watched sneeringly as she inserted a finger inside her wet, pink slit and moved it tentatively in and out. The treacherous inner cunt-walls grabbed at the probing finger, and Joan's breath whistled between her half-parted lips. She moved the finger faster. A hungry, furry little animal was nipping busily at the finger-intruder digging into her sluice-box.
Unconsciously Joan's head swayed from side to side and her blonde hair whipped back and forth on her shoulders. Down between her parted legs she removed the finger entirely each time before re-inserting it, and each emergence was signaled by a wet, slippery sound of slurping flesh.
"Get at your clit!" Tom commanded. "Spread those lips and let's see you do it right."
Joan introduced her left hand between her thighs. With two fingers of that hand she widened her hairy pussy-lips until the inner bright red flesh appeared, then with the middle finger of her right hand sought out the perky bud of her clitoris and massaged it. It stiffened at once, and Joan's thighs trembled. "Ooooooooh!" she whispered.
She rubbed herself harder, and the pleasurable sensation increased, but not beyond a certain point. Frantically Joan deserted her clitoris and plunged two fingers inside her wet cunt. She pushed them in and out, in and out, but again the sensation stopped short of what she so desperately needed. She needed a man! She needed a prick! "Tommmm!" she moaned, eyes closed tightly. "Please, Tom! I'm-I'm not getting anywhere!" Her slippery fingers ground away inside her palpitating cunt. "Please! I'll say it, I'll say it! Fuck me, Tom! Fuck me!"
There wasn't a sound in the room, and she opened her eyes, searching anxiously for the erect cock jutting out from his pants, the cock that she needed so badly.
But the room was empty.
Oh, God, no! she thought wildly.
He's sneaked out and left me hanging!
She groaned as she let her fingers slip from between her drenched thigh-juncture. She scrambled from the table and ran into the living room; hoping against hope he was still there.
But he was gone.
She hadn't heard him go, but he was gone.
Frantically she flung herself face down upon the couch and rubbed her itching-burning twat furiously against the couch cover, trying to frictionize the come she hadn't been able to accomplish with her fingers.
But it was no use.
Her plump bare bottom decorated with the thin pale blue tapes of her garter belt wriggled and writhed on the couch as she tried in vain to force an orgasm.
When she realized she had lost it altogether, Joan burst into a fresh flood of tears. That awful man had deliberately worked her up like this and then gone off and left her to realize the animal-like depths of her nature.
She cried, and cried, and cried, as the plunging of her naked buttock-flesh died away to involuntary tremors.
And finally she fell asleep upon the couch like an exhausted, ten-year-old schoolgirl.
Harry found her there upon his return home from work.
She wakened with a start to find his comforting arms around her. She whimpered and tried to snuggle closer to him. It was only when his hand stroked her bare thigh that total remembrance came to her, and she started to cry again.
"I knew Tom was out of the office this afternoon, and I suspected he might come here," Harry said miserably. "Don't cry, darling. You couldn't help it if he forced you."
"It was w-worse!" Joan sobbed.
"Worse?" Harry said apprehensively.
"H-he made me w-want him and th-then he went off and l-left me," Joan sniveled. "I should have h-hated every s-second of it, but I'm a dirty f-filthy b-beast!"
"You're nothing of the kind!" Harry said warmly. He raised Joan's head and moved closer to her, resting her head on his thigh as she still sprawled on her stomach. "You're a sweet, loving girl," he continued. "You can't help it if that sonofabitch Tom Carter knows how to get you all stirred up. He could do it to a nun." He patted Joan's bare behind soothingly.
For a moment the only sound in the living room was Joan's sniffles. She felt tremendously grateful for Harry's understanding; she had felt so starved for affection for so long a time that she almost welcomed this situation which found her tears soaking into her husband's pants leg while his palm continued to alternately stroke and pat her nude buttocks in an absent-minded manner. "It's all my fault," Harry went on. "I got you into this."
"And he's not going to quit," Joan said hopelessly. "Do you know what he said today?" Quickly she told Harry about the weekend invitation they didn't dare refuse. "H-he's probably going to d-do it to me and m-make you w-watch!" Joan concluded. The tears which had subsided slightly started up afresh.
"I'd better look for another job," Harry said gloomily. "Out of town. No, out of state. Somewhere he can't find us."
"You've worked too h-hard to give up your job with the f-firm!" Joan said indignantly.
"Well, we've got to do something," Harry said reasonably. "Damned if I intend to see you end up as his love-slave or sexual plaything."
For the moment neither had any more to say. Joan's tears dried on her flushed face. She didn't know exactly when it was she realized that the comforting hand of her husband which had been lightly fondling her unclad backside developed an urgency which began to stir her. The hand massaged the whole surface of her lusty, beautifully bell-shaped hind parts with increasing intensity, pausing only when it encountered the garter tapes stretching from her waist to her stocking tops.
Joan's lips parted slightly as the hand separated her full shining globes and traced the course of her deep buttock crease. Still on her belly, she widened her knees under her so that the hand, probing lower, could have easier access to the treasure tucked within the fold of her croup-plumpness. Even though expecting it, she gasped when the advancing hand touched her on the quick.
"Joan," Harry said huskily, fingering her sex slit as she raised her stomach slightly to make it easier for him.
"Yes?" she whispered.
"Let's go upstairs."
She rolled onto her side at once, then sat up. She was so infinitely grateful to have her husband back in this refreshingly agreeable sudden ardency that if he had suggested it she wouldn't have hesitated to walk out onto the sidewalk with him despite her semi-nudity. Harry put two fingers under her chin and tilted her face up, then kissed her hotly, his tongue searching out Joan's. She returned his kiss just as hotly, her stomach muscles fluttering as he transmitted his avid enthusiasm to her.
Harry's hand groped for the front of her blouse and undid its tiny buttons. Joan slipped each shoulder and arm in turn from the blouse as Harry removed it. She half-turned the dazzling white expanse of her back away from him so he could reach the clasp of her bra. He unfastened it quickly and pulled the straps from her shoulders. Joan pushed them down her arms as the bra fell onto her stomach and her pink-nip-pled big breasts stood forth proudly.
Harry lowered his head and nuzzled her bare bubbies with his lips. He licked each nipple, then sucked at it slowly. Goose bumps jumped up on Joan's flesh, and her stomach walls contracted pleasurably. Down between her thighs a dampness was making itself apparent as her rising excitement caused a seepage that bedewed her soft pussy-lips.
Harry rose from the couch and took her hand. He led Joan to the stairway and started her up it ahead of him with a gentle spank upon her grandly voluminous creamy seat. Halfway up the stairs he stopped her with a hand on either side of her waist. Quickly he peeled her garter belt down over the smooth swell of her fulsome hips until it hung dangling by the garter tabs from her snug-fitting stockings, then pressed his face feverishly to Joan's warm buttock-flesh as he rained kisses all over her resilient hind cheeks. Joan's hands rose unconsciously and cupped her bare breasts, caressing the nipples, as Harry's mouth stirred her juices from the force with which he kissed every inch of her wide fanny.
She finished the ascent of the stairs when he stopped. In the bedroom she unfastened her garter tabs and cast the belt aside while Harry undressed. When he was naked, she knelt down in front of him alongside their bed. With a sense of tranquility she hadn't experienced in months she reached between Harry's hirsute thighs and cupped his balls and his lazy erection on the palm of her right hand. "May I?" she asked softly.
Harry patted her blonde head fondly, then continued to stroke her smoothly shining hair. "You can do anything you like," he said soberly. "I have the feeling I've been stupidly starving you."
"No, no," Joan said quickly. "I should have asked you before. How could you know if I didn't?"
She crouched lower and bent her head. She licked delicately with just the tip of her pink tongue at the bristly little hairs on her husband's sturdy balls. His swelling prick was right under her nose as she turned her head sideways to get her face closer, and its strong male odor infiltrated her nostrils as its tangy aroma increased still more the warm-wetness in her jewel box.
She leaned back on her haunches and smiled up at Harry's face above her, "I love the feel of the hair on your balls on my tongue," she confessed. "It tickles beautifully." She giggled suddenly. "When I was twelve I heard the older girls talking and I came home and asked at the dinner table what fuzzy-nuts' were. My mother frowned at me while everyone else ignored me, but I stupidly repeated the question. My father grew red in the face, and he jerked me right out of my chair angrily and spanked my bare bottom hard right there at the table in front of my sisters and my brother." She smiled again. "But now I have my own fuzzy-nuts to play with."
She returned her mouth to Harry's groin, licking at the length of his still-rising erection and then taking its purplish head in her lips. She worried it for a moment, teasing it with lip pressure, before swallowing a good portion of it. She frictioned her lips and mouth back and forth over the fleshy rod while a warm glow enveloped her at the feel of its rigidity massaging the roof of her mouth and crowding the back of her throat.
Harry's hand which had been resting upon Joan's bare shoulder tightened suddenly. "I want to fuck you, Joan," he said quietly.
She released her mouth-prisoner at once. Harry raised her to her feet, kissed her lips with his own taste upon them while with his arms around her his hands palpated freely Joan's hefty rump cheeks the feel of which he never seemed to get enough, then walked her backward to the bed. Her thighs struck the edge and she collapsed slowly backward with the delicious weight of her husband's body upon her belly.
Harry moved her into the center of the bed and spread her legs as he moved in between them. His sturdy prick punched at her swimming quim and slipped in of its own accord before she could even begin to assist it. He tucked his head in the juncture between Joan's neck and shoulder and began to fuck her steadily while her thighs rose and clasped him.
She could hear the faint rustling noise made by the movement of his body between her stockinged legs. She knew instinctively this was no ordinary husband-wife fuck; their common problem had somehow welded them more tightly together, and Joan joyously accepted with increasingly abandoned, erotic workings of her up-thrusting, quivering hips the amorously animated prick-obeisance her husband was making to the wifely cunt he had unwittingly made so much trouble for.
Joan locked her heels over his back and tried to widen her thighs still further to accept Harry's cock right down to its root. His composed, steady plunging in and out of her wet, clinging sheath was enrapturing her whole body. She was ablaze with sexual sensation, alive with passionate carnality, wanton in devoted licentiousness. She wanted desperately for it to be the best fuck Harry had ever had. Her own voluptuous thrilling response to the ardent prick so high-spiritedly ravaging her exultant cunt was secondary.
She came suddenly in a starburst of sexual sparks that exploded in delicious splinter-like fragments deep within her writhing pussy. It had taken her completely by surprise. "Oh! Ohh! Ohhhhh!" she had only time to moan upon a rising note as the frenetic contractions of her buttock muscles powered a discharge that lavishly lubricated her husband's torridly-spearing cock.
She settled down beneath him to concentrate upon making it a good one for him. She had never known him to go on for so long, and she marveled as quick contractions in her cock-filled, juicy cunt, awash with her own spend, announced that he was stimulating her all over again. Her hands patted his shoulders as she encouraged him in his effort, and she groped with one hand lower down to fondle and squeeze a hairy buttock.
His pace upon her perspiring belly increased suddenly at the same time another deep-welling tingle began deep in her loins. "Oooooh, Harry!" Joan breathed fervently. "You're making-me come-again! Ohhh! Harry! HARRRRRRRY! Ohhhhh, God! It's good! It's so-good! Ahhhhhhh, I'm-coming, darling! I'm coming!"
A Roman candle went off in Joan's convulsed cock-stuffed quim as she matched with wildly immodest, bawdy abandon the suddenly hectic ass-plunging movements of her husband. Harry cried out hoarsely as his quick-darting joystick sprayed his wife's blissful interior at the same time her inner juices inundated the prize between her legs. He pumped upon her more and more slowly as she clasped him tightly to her, and finally his languid body movement came to a stop.
He rolled off Joan onto his back, and she immediately scrambled to her knees and flung herself across his thighs. She pressed her face against his groin and kissed every slippery inch of his shrinking erection; kissed it passionately. Then she raised herself and collapsed face down upon his quiescent body.
"I love you, Harry!" she cried with fiery vehemence and undiminished ardor with her lips against his chest. "I love you! I love you! And I don't care what Tom Carter does, he can't take that away from us!"
But despite the peaceful, restful sense of sex-satisfaction in the Welby bedroom at that instant, both Harry and Joan knew there was still the weekend ahead to be faced.
"I'll get her down to the cabin as soon as they get here, and you bring him along with you when you feel it's time," Tom Carter said to his wife Alice as he paced the floor of the living room of the luxurious Carter home. He was impatiently awaiting the arrival of the Welbys.
"Yes, dear," Alice Carter said calmly. She was wearing a pants-suit that she knew was flattering to her full-figured curves, and her raven black hair was teased to the last half-inch. She had spent more than the usual amount of time on her makeup.
"I'm going to fuck her the second I get her inside the cabin," Tom continued, rubbing his hands together briskly, "so she'll know that's only the beginning of what I have in mind for her during the weekend. I'm going to find uses for that lovely bitch's body she's never dreamed possible."
"And I can do what I like with Harry?" Alice inquired.
"Any damn thing you please, after you let him get his eyeful," Tom declared. "It will turn into a log-roll eventually, of course."
Alice felt a stir of pleased excitement. Tom didn't always permit her the freedom he granted himself, and with his presently afforded carte blanche she was looking forward to an unrestrained weekend of passionate sex during which she'd have no need to hold back because of restrictions placed upon her by her husband. Beneath her bra she could feel her nipples stiffening as salacious thoughts raced through her mind; how delicious it would be to have a hard young male body available to cater to her every whim!
She interrupted Tom's pacing by going to him and kissing him warmly. "You're so nice to me, dear," she murmured with her lips against his cheek.
He looked surprised, then patted her girdled rump. "You're a handy old sow to have around, Alice," he said affectionately, but his eyes were upon the window overlooking the driveway where the Welby car would first appear.
"You're really excited, aren't you?" Alice ventured.
He nodded. "If I did what I feel like doing, I'd walk out to meet them with my prick hanging out of my pants. But I want Harry to be surprised by that first glimpse of his darling wife's cunt filled by my prick."
"You like her, don't you," Alice said quietly.
"Not like her-" Tom paused to frame his reply. "She's a beautiful piece of female flesh to use, and just beginning to realize her own capacities. That girl has got heat she hasn't even used yet."
Alice listened with a mounting sense of dread. Despite the fulfilling relationship in their marriage bed, she was always afraid Tom would be captivated by one of the younger women he steadily pursued. He had always returned to her more ardent than ever, but could it continue indefinitely? Was it to be the luscious-bodied Joan Welby who would take her Tom away from her?
"There they are," Tom declared with satisfaction. "You know what to do. Come on."
He led the way outside, waving cheerfully to the Welby car as it pulled into the crushed stone drive. Alice followed and watched as Harry and Joan Welby stepped from their car to accept Tom's fulsome greeting. Harry looked trim and neat in slacks and sport coat, not as burly as Tom, but attractively masculine. Joan was Rubenesque in a printed cotton dress.
"Got something to show you right away," Tom was saying ebulliently to Joan, slipping an arm around her. "It's out in the cabin, down this way." He pointed to a narrow path winding through a wooded area and disappearing around a slight rise.
"I'd like to see it, too," Harry Welby said casually.
Alice Carter picked up her cue. "If you'll bring in your bags now," she said in her best gracious hostess manner, "I'll show you where to put them." Harry hesitated, looked at Joan while avoiding looking at Tom Carter, and then at the bags in the back seat of the car. "Then we can join them at the cabin to see Tom's masterpiece," Alice continued. "He's so handy with tools."
She could see Harry Welby's reaction. It must be all right if this pleasantly smiling woman said they'd join Tom and Joan at once. He'd always liked Alice Carter. He thought her subdued, almost on the demure side, but agreeably sweet in her demeanor. "We'll join you in a minute, dear," he said to Joan. He removed the bags from the car and followed Alice into the many-roomed Carter menage.
Joan was disconcerted as she was urged along the path to the cabin by Tom's hand on her arm. She and Harry had made a pact to stick closely together every possible moment of the weekend, and here they were separated in the first fifteen seconds. Of course Alice had promised she and Harry would rejoin them at once, Joan thought hopefully.
"You don't see many made like this one," Tom was saying jauntily as they crested the rise and approached a rustic cabin. He opened the door and ushered Joan inside. "Although it seems to me now that I think about it you have seen one lately."
Joan heard him without really listening to what he was saying. She was looking about the cabin in alarm. Small, it consisted of a single room unfurnished except for a large bed directly beneath a glaring light. Portholes of opaque-looking glass were set into the walls of the cabin.
When Joan glanced apprehensively at Tom-the appearance of the place conveyed only one thing to her shrinking self-assurance-her worst fears were realized at once. Tom unzipped his trousers and took out his prick which dangled limply in its relaxed state. "Seen any made like this recently?" he asked.
"Don't, Tom," Joan begged. "You heard your wife say she and Harry would join us right away."
"Lock the door if you're bashful," he grinned at her. "Because I'm going to screw your handsome big ass and fat cunt right on that bed."
She knew he was using the words to excite both himself and her. Her eyes flicked nervously away from the front of his trousers where the previously limp meaty cock was lengthening and stiffening. The worst of it was that he was exciting her. Even though this man had humiliated her beyond words, had forced his tremendous prick into her pain-wracked rectum, had compelled her to masturbate herself in front of him and then left her unfulfilled, still the brazen lust in the handsome face and the ruby-headed penis now standing forth from his middle aroused her beyond words.
"Take your clothes off, Joan," Tom said.
"Please," she whispered even though she knew a plea was hopeless. He enjoyed her helplessness. Her discomfited realization of the impact of his lewd words and behavior upon her would-be lady-like behavior merely increased his sensual gratification.
"Need a little help?" he inquired impatiently.
Slowly Joan went to the door and locked it. Tears of frustrated mortification stung her eyelids. How could she and Harry have been out-maneuvered so quickly and so completely? Her hands went unwillingly to the clasp at the back of the neck of her dress, and she unhooked it and drew down the zipper. The dress fell forward loosely on her upper body, and she slipped her arms from it, passed it down over her waist and thighs, and stepped out of it. Nervously she went to a nail protruding from one wall and hung the dress from it.
Her bare arms and shoulders glistened whitely above her slip. Anxious not to prolong her involuntary striptease as Tom watched gloatingly, Joan stooped to take hold of the slip's lacy hem. She drew it upward over her body and off over her head, automatically fluffing her blonde hair into place again while she hung the slip with her dress.
When she looked back at Tom, he was unbelting his trousers and slipping out of them. He unbuttoned his shirt and flung it to the floor. Undershirt and undershorts followed, and Joan swallowed convulsively as the immense fleshy length of his over-large penis jutted upward from his thigh-juncture and the head shone wetly. He grinned derisively at Joan's mingled shame and muted desire as she stared fascinatedly at his big organ. He intended to get this pulchritudinous damsel, a delicious blend of shyness and wantonness that set him afire with lust, so hot that she begged for it.
Joan reached behind her and reluctantly unclasped her bra. Her large breasts popped out into the mild air of the cabin, and her nipples stiffened noticeably, shaming her additionally. She couldn't seem to hide anything from her tormentor whose satanic grin widened at this evidence of her girlishly high-strung excitability. Joan's big bubbies bobbed freely at her every movement, and a quick flood of high color rushed from her throat up into her pretty face.
Since she had dressed casually for the drive out into the country, she wore no garter belt or stockings. Only her wispy white bikini panties shielded her from Tom Carter's lustful gaze. Hurry, one corner of her mind insisted. Get it over with before Alice and Harry come knocking upon the locked cabin door. She knew she had no secrets from this man, but still she felt ashamed. Face scarlet, she quickly drew her final skimpy covering down her sleek thighs and stood naked before him, the panties dangling limply from the tensed fingers of one hand.
"Very nice," Tom Carter said throatily. He advanced toward Joan, and she took an instinctive backward step before realizing anew she had no retreat available. He crowded up against her, bare belly to bare belly, and her eyes closed at the hot feel of his flesh against hers. "Spread your legs," he demanded. When she did so, he pushed his rampant erection downward and thrust it forward until it rose of its own volition between her legs. Her increasingly moist-feeling pussy felt as though it was riding a smoldering, fleshy ridgepole, and Joan's breathing faltered. He reached behind her to take hold of her strappingly protracted nude hind cheeks and proceeded to push and pull her back and forth along his lengthy prick which rubbed tantalizingly against almost the full extent of her sensitized sex-slit. "Oooooh!" she squealed as white-hot sensation pierced her.
"You like it, huh?" he grinned.
Joan didn't reply. She was trying futilely to control her response to his cock-teasing of her body. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the heavy prick rubbed and rubbed at her pussy-lips. "Ohh!" Joan whispered as she felt an inner gush impregnate the golden-haired lips of her quivering pink cunt.
Tom felt it on his prick. "You're the original wet-deck kid," he snickered. "How many times do you have to change your panties every day? I'll bet you can look at a movie idol type walking down the street and feel it rolling down your leg."
It was so nearly true that Joan felt additionally demeaned. The quick trigger of her sexual arousal had presented an embarrassing problem for her all through her teens. Tom removed his prick from its upstanding position between her legs and led her to the bed. He sat down and pulled Joan onto his lap, tipping her backward and widening her thighs so that all of her coral-lipped vulva in its fleece-lined cloister was exposed moist-gapped to his gaze.
And his finger.
Joan shivered as a fingertip traced her sex-split from end to end, teasing and tickling as it brushed loose golden strands of her pubic hair aside. The finger several times approached right to the brink of her yearningly hot vaginal entrance, and then retreated. She bit her lip as she tried to restrain herself from thrusting her middle upward at the finger when it dallied at her love-spot.
With a patience that drove her wild, Tom petted, dandled, grasped, palmed, and fingered her sex parts until her resolve shattered under the blazing conflagration ignited in her loins. "Don't tease!" she muttered hoarsely. "Please d-don't tease!"
"What is it you want me to do?" he asked cruelly, reveling in his control over her.
"Put it in!" she whispered, hiding her scarlet face in her two hands. "Put your finger inside!"
Instead, he slid her from his lap onto the bed and stretched her out on her back with knees elevated and legs apart.
"N-no," she felt obliged to deny the rebuilding excitement mounting inside her. "N-not really."
"You've cooled off," he said. "Let's fix that." He placed both hands on either side of her nude waist, lifted her from the floor, and sat her down on the edge of the kitchen table.
Joan immediately squirmed furiously, trying to lift her bare bottom from the smooth surface. "Ohhhhh, God, that's c-cold!" she cried out.
Tom laughed as he held her down on the table. "You'll warm it up with that built-in heater between your legs," he said. He stepped back from the table when she stopped struggling. "But we've got to get the heater heated first. Go ahead and play with yourself down there."
Oh, no! Joan thought. He wants me to finger myself right in front of him! "It-it doesn't help much," she said hurriedly. "I mean-I mean I can seldom bring myself off. Even my roommate in college said I was-I was terrible at it."
"Did you hear what I said?" Tom Carter's voice was harsh again. "Go ahead and play with yourself. Now!"
The humiliation was too great. Weak tears spurted from Joan's eyes and ran silently down her pale cheeks, but her right hand moved down across her stomach toward the juncture of her thighs.
"Pull your legs up!" Tom ordered. "Let's get a look at this show."
Still sitting on the chilly formica-topped table edge, Joan raised her knees to her breasts. The movement revealed her entire sex-structure to him as her slightly-parted pussy-lips in their hairy golden nest were fully exposed. "Now masturbate yourself!" Tom demanded.
Still crying, Joan's reaching fingers parted the fragile blonde hair around her twat-opening. Tom watched sneeringly as she inserted a finger inside her wet, pink slit and moved it tentatively in and out. The treacherous inner cunt-walls grabbed at the probing finger, and Joan's breath whistled between her half-parted lips. She moved the finger faster. A hungry, furry little animal was nipping busily at the finger-intruder digging into her sluice-box.
Unconsciously Joan's head swayed from side to side and her blonde hair whipped back and forth on her shoulders. Down between her parted legs she removed the finger entirely each time before re-inserting it, and each emergence was signaled by a wet, slippery sound of slurping flesh.
"Get at your clit!" Tom commanded. "Spread those lips and let's see you do it right."
Joan introduced her left hand between her thighs. With two fingers of that hand she widened her hairy pussy-lips until the inner bright red flesh appeared, then with the middle finger of her right hand sought out the perky bud of her clitoris and massaged it. It stiffened at once, and Joan's thighs trembled. "Ooooooooh!" she whispered.
She rubbed herself harder, and the pleasurable sensation increased, but not beyond a certain point. Frantically Joan deserted her clitoris and plunged two fingers inside her wet cunt. She pushed them in and out, in and out, but again the sensation stopped short of what she so desperately needed. She needed a man! She needed a prick! "Tommmm!" she moaned, eyes closed tightly. "Please, Tom! I'm-I'm not getting anywhere!" Her slippery fingers ground away inside her palpitating cunt. "Please! I'll say it, I'll say it! Fuck me, Tom! Fuck me!"
There wasn't a sound in the room, and she opened her eyes, searching anxiously for the erect cock jutting out from his pants, the cock that she needed so badly.
But the room was empty.
Oh, God, no! she thought wildly.
He's sneaked out and left me hanging!
She groaned as she let her fingers slip from between her drenched thigh-juncture. She scrambled from the table and ran into the living room; hoping against hope he was still there.
But he was gone.
She hadn't heard him go, but he was gone.
Frantically she flung herself face down upon the couch and rubbed her itching-burning twat furiously against the couch cover, trying to frictionize the come she hadn't been able to accomplish with her fingers.
But it was no use.
Her plump bare bottom decorated with the thin pale blue tapes of her garter belt wriggled and writhed on the couch as she tried in vain to force an orgasm.
When she realized she had lost it altogether, Joan burst into a fresh flood of tears. That awful man had deliberately worked her up like this and then gone off and left her to realize the animal-like depths of her nature.
She cried, and cried, and cried, as the plunging of her naked buttock-flesh died away to involuntary tremors.
And finally she fell asleep upon the couch like an exhausted, ten-year-old schoolgirl.
Harry found her there upon his return home from work.
She wakened with a start to find his comforting arms around her. She whimpered and tried to snuggle closer to him. It was only when his hand stroked her bare thigh that total remembrance came to her, and she started to cry again.
"I knew Tom was out of the office this afternoon, and I suspected he might come here," Harry said miserably. "Don't cry, darling. You couldn't help it if he forced you."
"It was w-worse!" Joan sobbed.
"Worse?" Harry said apprehensively.
"H-he made me w-want him and th-then he went off and l-left me," Joan sniveled. "I should have h-hated every s-second of it, but I'm a dirty f-filthy b-beast!"
"You're nothing of the kind!" Harry said warmly. He raised Joan's head and moved closer to her, resting her head on his thigh as she still sprawled on her stomach. "You're a sweet, loving girl," he continued. "You can't help it if that sonofabitch Tom Carter knows how to get you all stirred up. He could do it to a nun." He patted Joan's bare behind soothingly.
For a moment the only sound in the living room was Joan's sniffles. She felt tremendously grateful for Harry's understanding; she had felt so starved for affection for so long a time that she almost welcomed this situation which found her tears soaking into her husband's pants leg while his palm continued to alternately stroke and pat her nude buttocks in an absent-minded manner. "It's all my fault," Harry went on. "I got you into this."
"And he's not going to quit," Joan said hopelessly. "Do you know what he said today?" Quickly she told Harry about the weekend invitation they didn't dare refuse. "H-he's probably going to d-do it to me and m-make you w-watch!" Joan concluded. The tears which had subsided slightly started up afresh.
"I'd better look for another job," Harry said gloomily. "Out of town. No, out of state. Somewhere he can't find us."
"You've worked too h-hard to give up your job with the f-firm!" Joan said indignantly.
"Well, we've got to do something," Harry said reasonably. "Damned if I intend to see you end up as his love-slave or sexual plaything."
For the moment neither had any more to say. Joan's tears dried on her flushed face. She didn't know exactly when it was she realized that the comforting hand of her husband which had been lightly fondling her unclad backside developed an urgency which began to stir her. The hand massaged the whole surface of her lusty, beautifully bell-shaped hind parts with increasing intensity, pausing only when it encountered the garter tapes stretching from her waist to her stocking tops.
Joan's lips parted slightly as the hand separated her full shining globes and traced the course of her deep buttock crease. Still on her belly, she widened her knees under her so that the hand, probing lower, could have easier access to the treasure tucked within the fold of her croup-plumpness. Even though expecting it, she gasped when the advancing hand touched her on the quick.
"Joan," Harry said huskily, fingering her sex slit as she raised her stomach slightly to make it easier for him.
"Yes?" she whispered.
"Let's go upstairs."
She rolled onto her side at once, then sat up. She was so infinitely grateful to have her husband back in this refreshingly agreeable sudden ardency that if he had suggested it she wouldn't have hesitated to walk out onto the sidewalk with him despite her semi-nudity. Harry put two fingers under her chin and tilted her face up, then kissed her hotly, his tongue searching out Joan's. She returned his kiss just as hotly, her stomach muscles fluttering as he transmitted his avid enthusiasm to her.
Harry's hand groped for the front of her blouse and undid its tiny buttons. Joan slipped each shoulder and arm in turn from the blouse as Harry removed it. She half-turned the dazzling white expanse of her back away from him so he could reach the clasp of her bra. He unfastened it quickly and pulled the straps from her shoulders. Joan pushed them down her arms as the bra fell onto her stomach and her pink-nip-pled big breasts stood forth proudly.
Harry lowered his head and nuzzled her bare bubbies with his lips. He licked each nipple, then sucked at it slowly. Goose bumps jumped up on Joan's flesh, and her stomach walls contracted pleasurably. Down between her thighs a dampness was making itself apparent as her rising excitement caused a seepage that bedewed her soft pussy-lips.
Harry rose from the couch and took her hand. He led Joan to the stairway and started her up it ahead of him with a gentle spank upon her grandly voluminous creamy seat. Halfway up the stairs he stopped her with a hand on either side of her waist. Quickly he peeled her garter belt down over the smooth swell of her fulsome hips until it hung dangling by the garter tabs from her snug-fitting stockings, then pressed his face feverishly to Joan's warm buttock-flesh as he rained kisses all over her resilient hind cheeks. Joan's hands rose unconsciously and cupped her bare breasts, caressing the nipples, as Harry's mouth stirred her juices from the force with which he kissed every inch of her wide fanny.
She finished the ascent of the stairs when he stopped. In the bedroom she unfastened her garter tabs and cast the belt aside while Harry undressed. When he was naked, she knelt down in front of him alongside their bed. With a sense of tranquility she hadn't experienced in months she reached between Harry's hirsute thighs and cupped his balls and his lazy erection on the palm of her right hand. "May I?" she asked softly.
Harry patted her blonde head fondly, then continued to stroke her smoothly shining hair. "You can do anything you like," he said soberly. "I have the feeling I've been stupidly starving you."
"No, no," Joan said quickly. "I should have asked you before. How could you know if I didn't?"
She crouched lower and bent her head. She licked delicately with just the tip of her pink tongue at the bristly little hairs on her husband's sturdy balls. His swelling prick was right under her nose as she turned her head sideways to get her face closer, and its strong male odor infiltrated her nostrils as its tangy aroma increased still more the warm-wetness in her jewel box.
She leaned back on her haunches and smiled up at Harry's face above her, "I love the feel of the hair on your balls on my tongue," she confessed. "It tickles beautifully." She giggled suddenly. "When I was twelve I heard the older girls talking and I came home and asked at the dinner table what fuzzy-nuts' were. My mother frowned at me while everyone else ignored me, but I stupidly repeated the question. My father grew red in the face, and he jerked me right out of my chair angrily and spanked my bare bottom hard right there at the table in front of my sisters and my brother." She smiled again. "But now I have my own fuzzy-nuts to play with."
She returned her mouth to Harry's groin, licking at the length of his still-rising erection and then taking its purplish head in her lips. She worried it for a moment, teasing it with lip pressure, before swallowing a good portion of it. She frictioned her lips and mouth back and forth over the fleshy rod while a warm glow enveloped her at the feel of its rigidity massaging the roof of her mouth and crowding the back of her throat.
Harry's hand which had been resting upon Joan's bare shoulder tightened suddenly. "I want to fuck you, Joan," he said quietly.
She released her mouth-prisoner at once. Harry raised her to her feet, kissed her lips with his own taste upon them while with his arms around her his hands palpated freely Joan's hefty rump cheeks the feel of which he never seemed to get enough, then walked her backward to the bed. Her thighs struck the edge and she collapsed slowly backward with the delicious weight of her husband's body upon her belly.
Harry moved her into the center of the bed and spread her legs as he moved in between them. His sturdy prick punched at her swimming quim and slipped in of its own accord before she could even begin to assist it. He tucked his head in the juncture between Joan's neck and shoulder and began to fuck her steadily while her thighs rose and clasped him.
She could hear the faint rustling noise made by the movement of his body between her stockinged legs. She knew instinctively this was no ordinary husband-wife fuck; their common problem had somehow welded them more tightly together, and Joan joyously accepted with increasingly abandoned, erotic workings of her up-thrusting, quivering hips the amorously animated prick-obeisance her husband was making to the wifely cunt he had unwittingly made so much trouble for.
Joan locked her heels over his back and tried to widen her thighs still further to accept Harry's cock right down to its root. His composed, steady plunging in and out of her wet, clinging sheath was enrapturing her whole body. She was ablaze with sexual sensation, alive with passionate carnality, wanton in devoted licentiousness. She wanted desperately for it to be the best fuck Harry had ever had. Her own voluptuous thrilling response to the ardent prick so high-spiritedly ravaging her exultant cunt was secondary.
She came suddenly in a starburst of sexual sparks that exploded in delicious splinter-like fragments deep within her writhing pussy. It had taken her completely by surprise. "Oh! Ohh! Ohhhhh!" she had only time to moan upon a rising note as the frenetic contractions of her buttock muscles powered a discharge that lavishly lubricated her husband's torridly-spearing cock.
She settled down beneath him to concentrate upon making it a good one for him. She had never known him to go on for so long, and she marveled as quick contractions in her cock-filled, juicy cunt, awash with her own spend, announced that he was stimulating her all over again. Her hands patted his shoulders as she encouraged him in his effort, and she groped with one hand lower down to fondle and squeeze a hairy buttock.
His pace upon her perspiring belly increased suddenly at the same time another deep-welling tingle began deep in her loins. "Oooooh, Harry!" Joan breathed fervently. "You're making-me come-again! Ohhh! Harry! HARRRRRRRY! Ohhhhh, God! It's good! It's so-good! Ahhhhhhh, I'm-coming, darling! I'm coming!"
A Roman candle went off in Joan's convulsed cock-stuffed quim as she matched with wildly immodest, bawdy abandon the suddenly hectic ass-plunging movements of her husband. Harry cried out hoarsely as his quick-darting joystick sprayed his wife's blissful interior at the same time her inner juices inundated the prize between her legs. He pumped upon her more and more slowly as she clasped him tightly to her, and finally his languid body movement came to a stop.
He rolled off Joan onto his back, and she immediately scrambled to her knees and flung herself across his thighs. She pressed her face against his groin and kissed every slippery inch of his shrinking erection; kissed it passionately. Then she raised herself and collapsed face down upon his quiescent body.
"I love you, Harry!" she cried with fiery vehemence and undiminished ardor with her lips against his chest. "I love you! I love you! And I don't care what Tom Carter does, he can't take that away from us!"
But despite the peaceful, restful sense of sex-satisfaction in the Welby bedroom at that instant, both Harry and Joan knew there was still the weekend ahead to be faced.
"I'll get her down to the cabin as soon as they get here, and you bring him along with you when you feel it's time," Tom Carter said to his wife Alice as he paced the floor of the living room of the luxurious Carter home. He was impatiently awaiting the arrival of the Welbys.
"Yes, dear," Alice Carter said calmly. She was wearing a pants-suit that she knew was flattering to her full-figured curves, and her raven black hair was teased to the last half-inch. She had spent more than the usual amount of time on her makeup.
"I'm going to fuck her the second I get her inside the cabin," Tom continued, rubbing his hands together briskly, "so she'll know that's only the beginning of what I have in mind for her during the weekend. I'm going to find uses for that lovely bitch's body she's never dreamed possible."
"And I can do what I like with Harry?" Alice inquired.
"Any damn thing you please, after you let him get his eyeful," Tom declared. "It will turn into a log-roll eventually, of course."
Alice felt a stir of pleased excitement. Tom didn't always permit her the freedom he granted himself, and with his presently afforded carte blanche she was looking forward to an unrestrained weekend of passionate sex during which she'd have no need to hold back because of restrictions placed upon her by her husband. Beneath her bra she could feel her nipples stiffening as salacious thoughts raced through her mind; how delicious it would be to have a hard young male body available to cater to her every whim!
She interrupted Tom's pacing by going to him and kissing him warmly. "You're so nice to me, dear," she murmured with her lips against his cheek.
He looked surprised, then patted her girdled rump. "You're a handy old sow to have around, Alice," he said affectionately, but his eyes were upon the window overlooking the driveway where the Welby car would first appear.
"You're really excited, aren't you?" Alice ventured.
He nodded. "If I did what I feel like doing, I'd walk out to meet them with my prick hanging out of my pants. But I want Harry to be surprised by that first glimpse of his darling wife's cunt filled by my prick."
"You like her, don't you," Alice said quietly.
"Not like her-" Tom paused to frame his reply. "She's a beautiful piece of female flesh to use, and just beginning to realize her own capacities. That girl has got heat she hasn't even used yet."
Alice listened with a mounting sense of dread. Despite the fulfilling relationship in their marriage bed, she was always afraid Tom would be captivated by one of the younger women he steadily pursued. He had always returned to her more ardent than ever, but could it continue indefinitely? Was it to be the luscious-bodied Joan Welby who would take her Tom away from her?
"There they are," Tom declared with satisfaction. "You know what to do. Come on."
He led the way outside, waving cheerfully to the Welby car as it pulled into the crushed stone drive. Alice followed and watched as Harry and Joan Welby stepped from their car to accept Tom's fulsome greeting. Harry looked trim and neat in slacks and sport coat, not as burly as Tom, but attractively masculine. Joan was Rubenesque in a printed cotton dress.
"Got something to show you right away," Tom was saying ebulliently to Joan, slipping an arm around her. "It's out in the cabin, down this way." He pointed to a narrow path winding through a wooded area and disappearing around a slight rise.
"I'd like to see it, too," Harry Welby said casually.
Alice Carter picked up her cue. "If you'll bring in your bags now," she said in her best gracious hostess manner, "I'll show you where to put them." Harry hesitated, looked at Joan while avoiding looking at Tom Carter, and then at the bags in the back seat of the car. "Then we can join them at the cabin to see Tom's masterpiece," Alice continued. "He's so handy with tools."
She could see Harry Welby's reaction. It must be all right if this pleasantly smiling woman said they'd join Tom and Joan at once. He'd always liked Alice Carter. He thought her subdued, almost on the demure side, but agreeably sweet in her demeanor. "We'll join you in a minute, dear," he said to Joan. He removed the bags from the car and followed Alice into the many-roomed Carter menage.
Joan was disconcerted as she was urged along the path to the cabin by Tom's hand on her arm. She and Harry had made a pact to stick closely together every possible moment of the weekend, and here they were separated in the first fifteen seconds. Of course Alice had promised she and Harry would rejoin them at once, Joan thought hopefully.
"You don't see many made like this one," Tom was saying jauntily as they crested the rise and approached a rustic cabin. He opened the door and ushered Joan inside. "Although it seems to me now that I think about it you have seen one lately."
Joan heard him without really listening to what he was saying. She was looking about the cabin in alarm. Small, it consisted of a single room unfurnished except for a large bed directly beneath a glaring light. Portholes of opaque-looking glass were set into the walls of the cabin.
When Joan glanced apprehensively at Tom-the appearance of the place conveyed only one thing to her shrinking self-assurance-her worst fears were realized at once. Tom unzipped his trousers and took out his prick which dangled limply in its relaxed state. "Seen any made like this recently?" he asked.
"Don't, Tom," Joan begged. "You heard your wife say she and Harry would join us right away."
"Lock the door if you're bashful," he grinned at her. "Because I'm going to screw your handsome big ass and fat cunt right on that bed."
She knew he was using the words to excite both himself and her. Her eyes flicked nervously away from the front of his trousers where the previously limp meaty cock was lengthening and stiffening. The worst of it was that he was exciting her. Even though this man had humiliated her beyond words, had forced his tremendous prick into her pain-wracked rectum, had compelled her to masturbate herself in front of him and then left her unfulfilled, still the brazen lust in the handsome face and the ruby-headed penis now standing forth from his middle aroused her beyond words.
"Take your clothes off, Joan," Tom said.
"Please," she whispered even though she knew a plea was hopeless. He enjoyed her helplessness. Her discomfited realization of the impact of his lewd words and behavior upon her would-be lady-like behavior merely increased his sensual gratification.
"Need a little help?" he inquired impatiently.
Slowly Joan went to the door and locked it. Tears of frustrated mortification stung her eyelids. How could she and Harry have been out-maneuvered so quickly and so completely? Her hands went unwillingly to the clasp at the back of the neck of her dress, and she unhooked it and drew down the zipper. The dress fell forward loosely on her upper body, and she slipped her arms from it, passed it down over her waist and thighs, and stepped out of it. Nervously she went to a nail protruding from one wall and hung the dress from it.
Her bare arms and shoulders glistened whitely above her slip. Anxious not to prolong her involuntary striptease as Tom watched gloatingly, Joan stooped to take hold of the slip's lacy hem. She drew it upward over her body and off over her head, automatically fluffing her blonde hair into place again while she hung the slip with her dress.
When she looked back at Tom, he was unbelting his trousers and slipping out of them. He unbuttoned his shirt and flung it to the floor. Undershirt and undershorts followed, and Joan swallowed convulsively as the immense fleshy length of his over-large penis jutted upward from his thigh-juncture and the head shone wetly. He grinned derisively at Joan's mingled shame and muted desire as she stared fascinatedly at his big organ. He intended to get this pulchritudinous damsel, a delicious blend of shyness and wantonness that set him afire with lust, so hot that she begged for it.
Joan reached behind her and reluctantly unclasped her bra. Her large breasts popped out into the mild air of the cabin, and her nipples stiffened noticeably, shaming her additionally. She couldn't seem to hide anything from her tormentor whose satanic grin widened at this evidence of her girlishly high-strung excitability. Joan's big bubbies bobbed freely at her every movement, and a quick flood of high color rushed from her throat up into her pretty face.
Since she had dressed casually for the drive out into the country, she wore no garter belt or stockings. Only her wispy white bikini panties shielded her from Tom Carter's lustful gaze. Hurry, one corner of her mind insisted. Get it over with before Alice and Harry come knocking upon the locked cabin door. She knew she had no secrets from this man, but still she felt ashamed. Face scarlet, she quickly drew her final skimpy covering down her sleek thighs and stood naked before him, the panties dangling limply from the tensed fingers of one hand.
"Very nice," Tom Carter said throatily. He advanced toward Joan, and she took an instinctive backward step before realizing anew she had no retreat available. He crowded up against her, bare belly to bare belly, and her eyes closed at the hot feel of his flesh against hers. "Spread your legs," he demanded. When she did so, he pushed his rampant erection downward and thrust it forward until it rose of its own volition between her legs. Her increasingly moist-feeling pussy felt as though it was riding a smoldering, fleshy ridgepole, and Joan's breathing faltered. He reached behind her to take hold of her strappingly protracted nude hind cheeks and proceeded to push and pull her back and forth along his lengthy prick which rubbed tantalizingly against almost the full extent of her sensitized sex-slit. "Oooooh!" she squealed as white-hot sensation pierced her.
"You like it, huh?" he grinned.
Joan didn't reply. She was trying futilely to control her response to his cock-teasing of her body. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the heavy prick rubbed and rubbed at her pussy-lips. "Ohh!" Joan whispered as she felt an inner gush impregnate the golden-haired lips of her quivering pink cunt.
Tom felt it on his prick. "You're the original wet-deck kid," he snickered. "How many times do you have to change your panties every day? I'll bet you can look at a movie idol type walking down the street and feel it rolling down your leg."
It was so nearly true that Joan felt additionally demeaned. The quick trigger of her sexual arousal had presented an embarrassing problem for her all through her teens. Tom removed his prick from its upstanding position between her legs and led her to the bed. He sat down and pulled Joan onto his lap, tipping her backward and widening her thighs so that all of her coral-lipped vulva in its fleece-lined cloister was exposed moist-gapped to his gaze.
And his finger.
Joan shivered as a fingertip traced her sex-split from end to end, teasing and tickling as it brushed loose golden strands of her pubic hair aside. The finger several times approached right to the brink of her yearningly hot vaginal entrance, and then retreated. She bit her lip as she tried to restrain herself from thrusting her middle upward at the finger when it dallied at her love-spot.
With a patience that drove her wild, Tom petted, dandled, grasped, palmed, and fingered her sex parts until her resolve shattered under the blazing conflagration ignited in her loins. "Don't tease!" she muttered hoarsely. "Please d-don't tease!"
"What is it you want me to do?" he asked cruelly, reveling in his control over her.
"Put it in!" she whispered, hiding her scarlet face in her two hands. "Put your finger inside!"
Instead, he slid her from his lap onto the bed and stretched her out on her back with knees elevated and legs apart.
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