Harry paused in his crouched position with his nose a few inches above his wife's lily-white round stomach. The mingled aroma of her perfume and the delicate scent of her womanly body tantalized his nostrils. He bent lower to kiss her belly, so far down on its sweeping curve that his lips grazed at the upper edges of the golden fleece of her soft pubic hair.
Joan's lips formed a little round O of surprise. This was quite an innovation for Harry whose lovemaking in the past tended toward the unimaginative. Joan almost said something indicative of her
Joan's lips formed a little round O of surprise. This was quite an innovation for Harry whose lovemaking in the past tended toward the unimaginative. Joan almost said something indicative of her
astonishment but forced herself to remain silent. Because Harry's lips were creeping lower! His nose brushed the curly-tufted profusion adorning the apex of her thighs, and his lips nibbled with ever so light a touch at the salmon-pink approaches of her female rift.
Joan's delight knew no bounds. She felt so loved when her husband made such delicately pleasurable use of her wifely attributes. Instinctively she raised her bottom slightly to present even more of her carmined split in its furry nest to her husband's browsing lips. Now if he would only-
She quivered all over as a hard tongue darted into her upturned quim. Ohhhh, but that was a gorgeous feeling! She felt wanton beyond words, gratified beyond belief. She sighed deeply as the tongue probed her prick-chamber. "Oooooh!" she moaned softly despite her previous resolve to say nothing. "Don't stop, darling. It feels sooooooo good."
He paused for an instant in his labors, and she was afraid she had seemed too bold. Harry, however, assumed complacently that Joan was exceptionally hot because of the absence of sex during his neglect of her. He thought fleetingly of his wife masturbating herself to gain some relief, a finger curved into herself right where his lips were pressed, and the idea so excited him that he plunged his mouth openly upon Joan's captive cunt.
The thrill sent her legs shooting ceiling-ward, and Harry forced his tongue between the pouting lips whose delicious odor was causing his prick to throb mightily. He twiddled Joan's budded little clit with the tip of his tongue, and she groaned as her warm thighs enveloped his face. He tongued all up and down her slit and into it as far as he could reach while her whimpering little cries of relish filled the room.
Harry raised his head from its thigh-enclosed nest finally to look at Joan's face. She had been lying with eyes closed, but her lids flew open fearfully, thinking she had done something wrong that provoked him. "Would you like more of that?" he asked quietly. "Or would you rather have my prick?"
"Your prick," Joan murmured instantly. "Ooooh, yes, Harry. Your.lovely prick!"
Well, he had known she was sex-starved, Harry thought. He shifted his position and lowered himself upon his wife so that his erection nuzzled at her sex-opening. Joan's small hand crept down between them, seized the desired prick, swollen in its readiness, and steered the rubbery circumcised head into her well-sluiced vagina. It glided in, straight and strong, and Joan blew out her breath in a sudden access of well-being as her husband's tool began to plow her prick-clutching furrow.
Her two hands groped for Harry's shoulders. The ball game going on in her fucking arena was exploding psychedelic lights in her brain. She felt on the qui vive of tactile sensibility. The darling prick ramming her liquefied cunt was setting off hot sparks inside her. "Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!" she squeaked in time to the hard-thrusting prong battering at her love-gate. "It's-lovely! Ohhh! Harder! Harder, Tom! Please! Ohhh! Please do it h-harder, T-Tom! I'm-"
She stopped, panic-stricken, when she felt his body go rigid. In the next instant she felt his previously hard penis shrivel in its warm nest. She had said Tom in her excitement! She had said Tom!
Harry raised himself on his knees and looked down at her sprawled loosely as his shrinking penis pulled out of her gaping wet twat with a squishy sucking sound. "You bitch!" he said bitterly. "You had to try that big stud!"
"No, no, no, no!" Joan pleaded frantically.
He raised his right hand and slapped her heavily across the face. The room seemed to explode before her eyes and involuntary tears streamed from her eyes.
He slapped her again. "Tom fucked you!" he yelled. "Admit it, or I'll pulverize your lying face!"
She screamed with pain. She was afraid she would faint and come to with her face destroyed. Harry seemed out of his mind with rage. "Y-yes, he d-did," she sobbed. "In his c-convertible the-the night you went away." She was sniffling loudly as she tried to check her tears.
"In his car!" Harry glared at her wildly. "Christ, like a couple of hard-up school kids!"
"He made me," she wailed. "He made me!"
Harry paid no attention. "Was that the only time?" he demanded. He pointed a finger at her. "Don't try to lie to me!"
Joan sought frantically for an evasion but could think of none. "Here," she whispered. "Afterward. The s-same night."
"In my own house!" Harry roared. He raised his right hand again, and Joan flinched. He lowered it as the meaning of her previous statement filtered through his anger. "What the hell do you mean he made you? What kind of talk is that for a grown woman?"
"It's the tr-truth!" Joan's tongue circled her tear-salty lips. The left side of her face was burning from the force of Harry's angry slaps. "H-he said you were m-manipulating an account and if I didn't do what he s-said he'd turn you in."
A curious stillness enveloped Harry as he knelt between Joan's still-parted legs. There was a moment of silence. "He said that?" he asked at last. "Tom said that?"
"Yes, he did. T-tell me it's not true, Harry."
"I can't," he said quietly. His shoulders seemed shrunken. "Because it is true. Although how that devil Tom found out is beyond me." He shrugged wearily. "God, what a mess." Then his voice sharpened. "Listen, I know that sex maniac. Is that all he did to you was fuck you?
Joan felt herself blushing. "Well-"
"Go ahead," Harry said grimly. "Tell me."
"He-he put his big penis in my bottom hole and f-fucked me there."
"Oh, Jesus," Harry groaned. He dropped down on the sofa beside Joan and put his arm around her as she straightened out her legs. "I'm sorry, honey. It's all my fault. I wanted you to have things. It killed me when I couldn't get you nice things after we went into debt during your illness. And I knew this promotion was coming up eventually, and I thought I'd replace the money in the account then. But now-"
It crucified Joan to see him so whipped down. "We have each other, Harry," she said stoutly. "Tom Carter can take his old job and stuff it."
He shook his head wearily. "He could keep me from getting a job anywhere in the profession. And knowing him, that's just what he'd do." He hesitated for a moment. "I might as well tell you all of it."
"All of it?" Joan said in alarm.
"Yes. I was lying to you when I said there'd been no other woman that caused me to neglect you, although it's not like it sounds. The job I had before the promotion-well, part of it is keeping the middle-aged women with large accounts satisfied so they stay with the firm."
"You mean you had to-"
"I mean I've fucked some of the most mildewed cunts and flabby asses in the history of the world," Harry said savagely. "It goes with the job. It's a joke around the office. Someone else has it now that I have the promotion.
That's why I was able to come home to you tonight wanting a piece of your sweet ass and finally able to do something about it."
Joan folded him in her arms and squeezed him against her breasts. "Oh, you poor man," she said softly. "And just when you were finally enjoying yourself I had to ruin it for you."
Harry didn't appear to be listening. "Did Tom say anything else? Did he threaten you, Joan?"
"He said I'd-I'd have to make myself available whenever he wanted," Joan said reluctantly. She felt as though she were grinding a high heel into Harry's open wound. "And he said-" She stopped.
"Go on," he said hoarsely.
"He said if he t-took the notion to have me come downtown and put my ass on his desk for a f-fucking, I'd h-have to do it." Joan half-rose on her knees as Harry laid speechless with his eyes looking sunken in his head. "We still have each other, Harry," she said earnestly. "We'll find a way. There's got to be a way out of the situation. But let's not torment ourselves trying to think of it right now. Let's just enjoy having ourselves together again like we used to do. Please, Harry?" She lowered her face and placed her lips against his ear. "Please finish fucking me, Harry?"
He stared helplessly at his shrunken prick. "I know," Joan said eagerly. "I'll love it back to life for you."
She half-turned and bent down over his groin. She took his limp cock in her hand and introduced it into her mouth and began to suck on it busily. Her tongue twirled and swirled around its circumference while her lips pulled at its breadth. She was half-facing away from Harry with three-quarters of her crouched-down, capaciously wide-spanned bare buttocks turned toward him. His hand came down upon her nude behind, quivering slightly from the expenditure of effort she was employing in resuscitating his prick, and stroked her naked backside gently.
Joan sucked and tongued at the prick she loved so well until it showed a new lease on life. Slowly it began to expand in her warm mouth, and she redoubled her efforts. Harry's rising cock began to crowd her mouth, and she had to back off slightly. She rocked her head back and forth on the saliva-slippery shaft until the penis was rock-hard and throbbing. She released it from her mouth and sat back on her haunches, trapping Harry's stroking hand between her bare seat and the backs of her legs.
"There!" she said with satisfaction, regarding her handiwork. "Please put it in me and finish our fuck, Harry. Let's make it the best one we ever had."
Swiftly he arranged her beneath him again. Joan parted her legs and accepted his weight. Once more her hand sought out the straining prick and introduced the tip of its rigidity into her well-greased chute. It was with a warm feeling of peace that she reached up and clasped Harry's body to her with her warm arms. The trouble was all out in the open now, and they'd find a way to handle it. And most blissful feeling of all, none of it affected them personally.
Almost languidly Harry thrust in and out of Joan's sheath, his unhurrying erection stroking her steadily as her interior walls nipped lightly at his staff. For long moments there was silence in the room as the man's body rose and fell upon the woman whose uplifted legs cushioned him warmly. The stiff prick pistoned in and out of the fleece-lined cunt, and their mingled breathing was unstrained.
Joan's pace quickened first. A burping ember ignited in her interior, followed by a teasing, tickling sensation just inside her pussy-lips which were being frictioned by the busy prick. Her glistening white hind cheeks rose from the couch surface as she pumped herself upward to meet each downward thrust of Harry's steady-plunging cock.
And then her reaction affected him. He drove harder at her as her heated belly lunged upward at him and his own slapped hers noisily as he buried his prick to the hilt in Joan's juice-filled twat on each downstroke. The tip of his prick seemed to swell until he thought it would burst. His balls hurt from their unexpended load of sperm. He whacked his straining meat into Joan's cozy pleasure-hole with furious abandon while she clutched him ever more tightly to her.
Then his prick burst its bounds and he flooded her with wild, uncontrolled spurts. The hot liquid burned upward into the fleshy receptacle, and Joan grunted indelicately as she contracted her cunt muscles tighter and tighter around the hard-plunging prick she felt erupting into her. Harry's hands groped for her soft buttocks and squeezed them until she almost yelled.
She felt as though she'd been hit in the back as her own orgasm erupted. Her legs climbed until she felt herself teetering on the brink of nothingness. Breathlessly she summoned up her reserves, and waves of sensation crashed at her nerve-ends while her quivering bottom-cheeks shivered and shook from the sensation-laden come that wrung her out. She collapsed limply with a repleted sigh.
It was a good five minutes before they stirred themselves. Joan rose from the couch first when the removal of Harry's weight from her stomach permitted it. "What the well-dressed girl will wear," Harry said lazily, pointing to Joan's bare behind. "Her man's fingerprints on her ass."
Joan smiled, then clapped a hand to her lips. "The door wasn't locked!" she exclaimed. "What if someone had walked in?"
"I'd have charged admission," Harry said solemnly. "You're a good fuck, honey. The best."
"You're not so bad yourself," Joan retorted. "Welcome back, husband."
Still naked, they wandered into the kitchen. Joan went to the fridge and poured two glasses of milk to accompany the snack she had set out previously. She put tea towels on the seats of the kitchen chairs, but otherwise they ate naked. There was no conversation but they smiled across the table at each other often.
And afterward, still without a word being said, they went upstairs hand-in-hand and in their bedroom had a long, slow, lazy, delicious fuck with Joan on top displaying her broad-gauged, dazzlingly white nude posterior in the tilted bureau mirror Harry had dragged up beside the bed.
After which they fell asleep in each other's arms.
In the morning, of course, there were afterthoughts.
"I don't know what we can do," Harry admitted in the kitchen as he prepared to leave for the office. "If Tom keeps quiet, it will have to be for a reason. And you're the reason." His hands clenched. "Honey, I just hate-"
"Nonsense!" Joan said, kissing him quickly. "We'll think of something." Privately she wasn't nearly as sure as she made herself sound.
"In a few months at the new salary I'll be able to make good the-the manipulation," Harry said hopefully. "Meantime-"
"Meantime we'll carry on," Joan said. "After all, it's not as though Tom's an ogre. Maybe he got it out of his system."
"He can be an ogre where a beautiful woman is concerned," Harry said soberly.
"But he's your friend, Harry! We were both drinking the other time, the night of the party-"
Harry smiled wearily. "The oldest saying in the world must be that a stiff prick knows no conscience. Or friendship. The oldest saying, and the truest." He returned Joan's kiss. "So long, honey. See you tonight."
"Goodbye, darling," Joan replied. She walked with him to the front door. He patted a round buttock through Joan's negligee before he went down the front walk. She stood and watched him walk to the corner where his car pool picked him up.
She simply couldn't bear to have anything happen to their marriage now.
Joan opened her front door with her key, balancing her bag of groceries under her other arm, and started through the living room to the kitchen. She stopped, petrified. Tom Carter was sitting in a living room chair, grinning at her in a leering manner.
"What-how-" Joan faltered.
"Wondering how I got in?" he drawled. "I got to thinking a while back a house key might be useful, so I had a duplicate made from Harry's when he left his key ring on his desk one day. Foresight, thy name is Tom Carter." He was still eyeing her in frank inspection. The day was so mild Joan had run out to the store wearing just blouse and skirt, and she was extremely conscious of Tom Carter's gaze upon her large breasts under the filmy blouse.
"You're looking fine, baby," he resumed when the silence had lengthened uncomfortably for Joan. "How's your ass-hole?"
"F-fine," she replied, ashamedly aware of the incongruity of her polite answer to his obscene query.
"Tougher than you thought, hmm?" Joan struggled to keep a blush from invading her face, but in vain. She knew that Tom especially enjoyed her embarrassed discomfiture at his lewd remarks. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but she couldn't help herself. "Ready for a stiff prick to be shoved up it again?"
"N-no!" she said more loudly than she intended. She couldn't afford to provoke this man, both from the standpoint of his usual swift reaction to opposition and the fact that after Harry's admission of his guilt in regard to the manipulation of the office account, Tom Carter held them both securely in his power.
But he seemed in a good humor today. "One of these days, baby," he said softly. "One of these days. The combination of your big ass and tight ass-hole really turns me on. But that's not what I really stopped in to see you about."
"No?" Joan said cautiously.
"No, but before I get to the point, I want to ask you something. How's it feel having ol' Harry on the ball around the house again?"
Joan had still been holding her bag of groceries. She walked to the table and set it down while she tried to frame the words of her reply. The question had puzzled her for an instant until she recalled Harry's rueful remark that his previous stud service was a requirement for all young lawyers in the firm and both an open secret and a subject for jokes around the office.
She wanted to make her answer low-keyed but effective, something that would appeal to this man's better nature, if he had one. "It feels wonderful," she said at last. And that much was certainly true; the past week had been almost like a second honeymoon in the Welby menage, only better, with Joan's wifely sexual expertise taking the place of the bride's amateurishness, however ardent. "He's a lovely, beautiful man, and I'm very much in love with him." She kept her voice steady and forced herself to look Tom Carter squarely in the eye.
"That's great, baby," he said with apparent sincerity. His leering grin had changed to a smile that was almost companionable. "Tell me, is ol' Harry really good in bed? The question's not academic. I know someone who really wants to know."
"He's very good in bed," Joan said, afraid not to answer the question but afraid, too, of the direction in which it was leading.
"As good as me?" Tom demanded.
"No," she said honestly.
"Buttering me up, hmm?"
"It's the truth."
"I know it is," he said complacently. "It all comes back to the point that you females profess to love the solicitous, gentle man in bed whereas you actually prefer the bastard who wrings you out and makes you like it."
Joan made no reply to the statement which she recognized had a perverse element of truth in it. Harry's tender bed manners of the past week had been delightful, but she had to admit they hadn't truly fired her as much as the single abandoned evening with Tom Carter had.
"Did you tell Harry about us?" he asked.
"No," she lied. "How could I?"
"That's good," he said with satisfaction. "Time enough later to let him know. You won't need to let him know what we do here this afternoon, either." The leering grin was back on his handsome face.
"T-Tom," Joan began unsteadily.
"Never mind begging," he cut her off. "Take off your skirt."
She stood irresolute for an instant. Nothing has changed, a corner of her mind noted. Why should you expect this man to act differently when you're still in his power? Slowly her hand went to the side-zipper on her skirt and pulled it down. She widened the skirt-panel the opened zipper disclosed and worked the skirt down over her capacious hips. When it slid down her legs and covered her ankles, she stepped out of it. She stood in front of Tom clad in blouse, short half-slip, and stockings. Her thighs felt cold although the room was Warm.
"Very nice," he approved. "Get rid of the slip."
Joan's stiff-feeling fingers plucked at the elasticized waistband of the half-slip, freed it from her middle, and pushed it downward. It joined her skirt on the floor. Beneath the slip Joan had on pale blue panties and, next to her skin, a pale blue garter belt supporting her stockings.
"Down with the panties," Tom ordered.
"Oh, please--! "
"Down!"
Helplessly Joan repeated her action with the slip, freeing the elasticized waistband from her stomach, skinning the snug-fitting panties down over her plump bottom, and guiding them down her thighs to the floor. She stood in three-quarter profile to Tom while doing so in order that he hadn't a direct view of either her golden-bearded pussy or the voluminous expanse of her pearly hind cheeks.
But he was having none of that. "Come over here and give me a feel of that ass," he commanded. Shivering, she walked to his chair. "Turn around," he said, smiling at her below-the-waist nudity except for the ineffective garter belt and her stockings.
When she complied, she felt his hand at once on her bare flesh, stroking it at first, then palpating each heavy buttock in turn on the palm of his hand, squeezing them, fondling them, and manipulating the fleshy spheres until Joan's legs began to tremble and her breath caught in her throat.
Nor did Tom fail to notice. "You like that, hah? Regardless of who's doing it?"
"I'm h-human," Joan said unsteadily as Tom's hand spread her nude posteriors and invaded her body's deep crevice. A fingertip traced her indentation from top to bottom of her back passage, and Joan's knees parted company as a slow thrill enveloped her warm flesh. She jerked them together angrily, tears in her eyes. What kind of a slut was she to respond like this to the manhandling of this grinning demon?
"I'll say you're human," Tom agreed, still playing with her pliant, sensitive, marble-white butt-cheeks. "And I intend to show you just how human you are. Turn around so I can feel your cunt."
Joan turned around, closing her eyes as the hand that had been teasing her naked bottom patted the sleekly round bowl of her bare belly before drifting downward. Fingers entwined themselves in the blonde curls of her pubic hair and tweaked it lightly, and her breathing quickened as the hand pushed its way between her unresistant thighs and took her itching sex on its palm.
"Ohh!" Joan murmured involuntarily as the hand squeezed and palpated her entire pouting-lipped fissure, and was at once terribly ashamed. The hand went away but was replaced by a finger that diddled and twiddled in her sex-orifice, roaming within her moist cavern-walls. Then the finger departed, too, and Joan quivered with the ache of its loss.
"Open your eyes," Tom said. When Joan did so, he was holding up the finger for her inspection, and she could see it glistening with her own sexual moisture. A hot flood of rosy color invaded her cheeks. Why fight it, she thought wildly? Why not relax and enjoy it since she couldn't help herself anyway? But she discarded the traitorous idea immediately. It wasn't decent, and it was disloyal to Harry.
"Tasted any good pricks lately?" Tom asked her. His tone was mocking. His hand traced the outline of the bulge at the crotch of his trousers. "Kneel down here and unzip me."
Saliva flowed freely in Joan's mouth as she stared at his thickly-bunched trouser-front. She should have hated the demand, and she was horrified that she didn't. Her manhandled pussy was a twitching massn of unfulfilled desire. She dropped to her knees and crawled in between Tom's parted thighs. She had to do it, she told herself, but she knew deep down in her heart that unlady-like though it was she was eager for another view of Tom's great prick.
He was looking over her shoulder as she knelt in front of him, and instinctively Joan turned to look, too. She saw at once that he had chosen his living room chair with deliberate caution. Across the room an angled wall mirror faithfully portrayed the shameful sprawl of Joan's plumped-out buttocks, nude except for the thin strips of her garter belt as she crouched in front of his chair. Joan felt a thrill of shamed excitement at her own tremendous exposure. Tom would be able to watch in the mirror the tiniest indecent wriggling of her most intimate bared flesh as she unzipped him.
"Never mind admiring yourself!" his jeering voice prodded her. "Get to work!"
She turned her head and fumbled for his zipper, pulling it down all the way. She fumbled inside his trousers and then inside his shorts for the prick that had so humiliatingly penetrated her fastidious ass-hole. Her fingers closed upon Tom's massive erection and drew it out into the light. She stared at the familiar ruby head, half-hooded in its foreskin, blunt and powerful-looking, and the thick circumference of the long prick around which it seemed her fingers could barely meet.
"Suck it!" Tom ordered harshly.
Joan lowered her head, infinitely mortified by the knowledge that even without the demand it was what she wanted to do. She licked at the blunt head several times, transferring the male essence to her taste buds, then ovaled her mouth and moved it forward upon the fleshy rod. She slipped the huge head between her lips several times, making it slippery with her saliva, swirling her tongue around and around the rampant prong.
Above her head Tom sighed deeply. "You really are a prick-freak, baby," he said huskily. He cleared his throat twice. "And it couldn't happen to a nicer girl."
Joan barely heard him. She was enraptured by the wonderful big prick in her clinging mouth. Sparkling visions of its thick turgidity romping in her pussy-nest, growing damper by the moment at the very thought, floated in her brain. Her head moved more rapidly back and forth as she mouth-fucked the delicious monster tickling the back of her throat.
"That's enough!" Tom said suddenly.
He had to push her head away to free his prick from Joan's mouth. She sank back, looking up at him expectantly. Surely he was going to fuck her now? She could see his eyes upon the mirror in which her lower-body nudity was so blatantly displayed, but she no longer cared. She was experiencing a hot glow internally that made the flesh of her sex-platform feel surpassingly wet and yielding.
"Let me tell you why I stopped in here today," Tom said brusquely.
Joan felt only impatience at the remark. This was no time for conversation. Her cunt yearned achingly for the saliva-moistened big prick pointing ceiling-ward as it projected from Tom's unzipped trousers.
"You and Harry are to come out to our place in Marin County Friday night for the weekend," he continued.
Joan stared uncomprehendingly. She and Harry? What did this peculiar invitation-command performance, really-presage?
"Alice has a few plans for Harry," Tom said casually.
Realization hit her like a thunderbolt. Tom was proposing wife-swapping! Harry would never do it, she decided instantly. It-it just wouldn't be Harry.
"Don't you say a word to him about that part of it," Tom cautioned her. "We'll let it be a surprise. And if you think he won't go for it once he's involved, you have another think coming." He doesn't know my Harry, Joan thought. "And I mean what I say about your not telling him," Tom went on. He leaned forward menacingly. "If I find out you have I'll take the skin off your bare butt in one-inch strips."
Joan shrank away from the threat in the cruel-looking eyes. She could never learn to keep up with the mercurial changes in temperament of this man, she thought, but she sensed that Tom Carter needed very little provocation to unleash the sadistic tendencies very close to the surface under his civilized veneer.
"Do you know what you're to do?" he demanded.
"I'm to bring Harry to your Marin County place Friday night for the weekend," Joan said meekly. Part of her sexual glow had faded during the prolonged conversation, and her backward-projected bare behind was beginning to feel chilly.
"Correct," Tom said briskly. "And don't miss or you'll be sorry. I don't care what you tell him. Have you been fucked on your kitchen table recently?"
The apparent non sequitur took Joan by surprise. "Why, n-no," she stammered, crimsoning at the thought.
"Ever?"
"N-no."
He pushed her back on her haunches and rose to his feet. "Then hustle your bare ass out there and we'll establish a first."
Slowly Joan climbed to her feet.
She wanted to protest, but she didn't dare.
Sheepishly she led the way into the kitchen, embarrassedly aware of Tom's eyes upon the swaying movement of her untrammeled naked backside as she crossed the living room.
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