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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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The Exhibitionist Wife
by Anonymous (address withheld)
Originally published by TheEditor
***
A man is no longer "get it up" for his wife, so he
finally decides to do something about it. (MF, couples,
voy, orgy)
***
Chapter 1
He had thought about it innumerable times in the last
several months, trying to figure out what was happening
to him when he was in bed with Evelyn, but short of
going to a head-shrink and laying bare his whole life,
while lying on a couch answering all kinds of personal,
penetrating questions, Fred Holden wasn't able to come
up with any substantial answers.
Somehow the answers seemed to evade him, no matter how
hard he concentrated on the problem. It just seemed to
happen, and he couldn't do anything about it. He had
tried a lot of different things, but the one thing he
did know for sure was that he wasn't really impotent...
And, as far as going to a head doctor, well forget it.
He wasn't about to do that, yet.
Seated in the spare bedroom of their apartment, which
Fred used as a study, he was trying to run down a
column of figures on his adding machine. He was
moonlighting, which consisted of running monthly audits
for several small, independent businesses, a couple of
service stations, a neighborhood grocery store, a
dentist and a pet shop. He worked damned hard at his
regular job then spent two or three nights every week
doing more of the same thing for these small outfits.
He made a stupid mistake, transposing some numbers, and
he cleared the machine, corrected the error and leaned
back away from his desk in his swivel chair, listening
to his portable radio, turned up to drown out the
sounds of the television set in the living room. Evelyn
was there listening and watching while some insipid
singer-comedian went through his studiedly relaxed
routines. He couldn't stand to watch that particular
program, and he was glad that he could sequester
himself in his office on the evenings when that one was
aired. What he would like to do was get a little
portable set; then he could watch what he liked, such
as some of the detective series or a talk show or two.
There were some other things he liked to watch, too,
but they weren't broadcast on TV.
Looking at his wristwatch, he saw that it was a little
after ten-thirty. It was a little early, but maybe...
just maybe... he'd be in luck tonight. A little smile
of anticipation creased his round face, and he heaved
his short, muscular frame out of his soft chair. Going
to the south window, he gingerly drew back the drapes,
and being careful to stay well back from the sill his
eager eyes sought the window of the apartment below and
slightly to the left. He was looking down directly on
the bed, sheets and covers turned back for occupancy,
but he was disappointed. The young couple weren't on
the bed, yet.
"Damn!" he growled to himself. He'd have to wait. His
eyes shifted to the bathroom window. Sometimes they
were as careless about keeping that window closed as
they were the one in the bedroom. Well, I'm in luck!
The light was on in the bathroom, and the window was
open... but the only way he could see into his
neighbor's bathroom was to be in his. Well, hell...
he'd done that before, too.
In his own bathroom, a second or two later, the door
securely locked, Fred stepped into the bathtub, opened
the window and standing on tiptoe looked down into the
similar cubicle of the ground-floor apartment in the
next building.
"Christ!" He was disgusted. All he could see was the
slimly muscular body of the young husband. The man was
facing him and was just entering the shower, his dark
chest hairs contrasting with white skin, and below, the
extreme hairiness of his loins almost obscured the
flaccid tube of his penis hanging down softly against
the longer, slightly reddish scrotal sac with its large
egg-shaped testicles swinging easily below.
Fred wasn't interested in watching a naked man take a
shower; although he had watched that same man make love
to his wife, and he knew that the guy was virile,
potent and had staying power that wouldn't quit. It was
the guy's young wife he wanted to see. Damn! She's a
luscious little piece! He wasn't even sure what her
name was, but he thought their last name was Pearson.
He was just about ready to step back out of the bathtub
and go back to work when he saw her.
She drifted into his view shrugging off a light
dressing robe. Fred's brown eyes widened, the pupils
flaring as he watched her hang the robe on the door,
the soft, round orbs of her beautifully sculpted
buttocks working as she kicked off her mules. God damn!
How he'd love to get his hands on her, his fingers
digging into those twin mounds of warm, smooth,
alabaster-white flesh. He could almost feel it in the
palms of his hands as he watched; then, she turned and
was facing him.
Her breasts, full and round, were placed high and wide-
spaced on her chest, the nipples pouting upward and the
pink areolas looked almost like round bull's-eyes. The
rest of her was equally fetching. She had a nice face
with regular features, good, even, white teeth, a
sensuous mouth, and she was golden blonde all over.
Fred's eyes zeroed in on the spun-gold mound of pubic
hair framed by slightly wide but curvaceous hips, and
he felt his penis, below, inside his pants, come to
pulsingly vibrant life. He thrilled as blood pumped
into it
to be trapped there, the tumescent rod of his cock
throbbing with the urgency of his sexual need. His
scrotum worked, pulling his balls up tight and achingly
toward his crotch.
That's what confused him. He could get a hard erection
watching his neighbor's wife undress in the bathroom...
but when he got into bed with Evelyn, his own wife...
Hell! Half the time I can't even get a hard-on!
And, it wasn't that Evelyn was an ugly witch, either.
She was every bit as desirable as that sweet, young
thing next door. There was just something that turned
him off when he tried to make it with his wife. It
wasn't that she didn't like it. Evelyn was different
from a lot of men's wives he knew about: Like the ones
who always had a headache... or demanded some special
favor or gift... or who cynically, even perhaps
sadistically,
limited their husband's sex demands by making
themselves sexually unattractive. He thought about the
too-fat wives he knew and the ones with caustic
tongues, as well as the constant-complainers... But,
hell, that's not Evelyn at all. She likes to fuck...
maybe too much! Actually, Fred Holden was closer to an
insight into what was happening between him and Evelyn
than he'd ever be, but unfortunately he didn't
recognize it, didn't pursue the idea far enough. In the
apartment's bathroom next door, the lovely, young wife
opened the shower door and stepped into it with her
husband.
"Damn it!" again. There was nothing to be seen for a
while. Turning he stepped out of the bathtub and
flushed the commode; then, he left the room and went
back to his desk. The television set in the living room
was still going, and he assumed that Evelyn would be
there for another half-hour or more; of course, she
knew better than to disturb him while he was working.
He had made that damned clear to her, several months
ago... right after they were married.
Evelyn was Fred's second wife. The main reason he had
taken on these accounting jobs that he did at home at
night was so he could keep up his alimony payments.
That God damned shrew is too smart to get married,
again! All she thinks about is money... and she's
getting it! Plenty! Fred felt he had been taken to the
cleaners when he'd been hit with alimony payments of
over seven- hundred dollars a month. It had taken
several stormy sessions in Carol's lawyer's office
before he had gotten it reduced to a more comfortable
figure, five-hundred and fifty dollars per month. Then,
when he'd married Evelyn there just wasn't enough money
to go around, so he was moonlighting. He didn't want to
spend his evenings grubbing for extra money, but there
didn't seem to be any other way to meet expenses. The
worst part of it was that prices kept right on going
up, the inflation eating away at his salary to the
point where he was thinking of taking on a couple more
accounts. Christ! If I have to do that... pretty soon
I'll be working four or five nights every week!
Glumly, he sat back down at his desk, conscious of his
still throbbing erection, straining against the front
of his trousers, his hand going down to caress the
turgid length of his cock and smiling with the secret
knowledge that he sure as hell wasn't impotent as
Evelyn regularly accused him of being. He toyed with an
idea: What I ought to do is walk in there, turn that
damned TV set off, haul her out of her chair, throw her
down on the living room floor... and fuck hell out of
her... so she knows she's really been had!
Something kept him from carrying out the idea, though.
Maybe it was the memory of how Carol had rebuffed him
so many times, putting him off with vapid excuses...
until one day he'd tried it. He manhandled her...
forced her... raped her actually... fucking the ass off
her, while she fought him like a wounded tigress. It
had been a costly mistake. After a visit to her lawyer
the next day, she insisted that he move out because she
was divorcing him.
He sat there at his desk for several minutes, trying to
force himself back to the drudgery of those endless
columns of figures, but after a few desultory attempts
at reconciling some of the entries, he gave up as a
lost cause. Reaching into his desk drawer he brought
forth a small pair of binoculars, rose from his chair
and went to the window, again.
Things were going to start happening down there in his
neighbor's bedroom. He saw that the young husband was
stretched out to his full length on the white bed
sheets, his cock hardening rapidly. Fred still couldn't
see the man's lovely, blonde wife, yet. She was in
another part of the bedroom, hidden from his view. Now,
the husband was reaching down to grasp the shaft of his
penis, holding it aloft. His mouth was moving, but Fred
couldn't hear his words; he could only imagine that he
was making a lewd invitation.
She was there, then, crawling up on the bed beside him
and rolling over on top of her husband. Fred saw her
white, tapering thighs part then close again, and he
knew that she had captured the stiffening shaft of her
husband's prick, holding it tight between her clamped-
together thighs.
Using the binocular, he brought the scene into sharp
focus, almost as clear and large as though he were
there in the room with them. This is the best damned
investment I've ever made! He watched their mouths meet
and meld, and he imagined the sucking, nibbling and the
intertwining of tongues in the deep, open-mouthed kiss;
then, as he swept the glasses over the smooth whiteness
of her back to the nipped in waist and the curving
flare of her hips, he saw the slight undulations of her
buttocks and knew that she was grinding her warmly
moist furrow up and down the length of her husband's
massively erect cock.
Below, Fred felt the involuntary lurch of his own
aching hard-on, his hand going into a pocket to shift
the shaft of his turgid prick to a more comfortable
position, and with gentle fingers he caressed the
length of it, debating with himself whether he should
or shouldn't. Several times lately, as he'd watched the
copulating neighbors, he'd masturbated while he watched
them. It gave him a measure of satisfaction, but he
didn't really like to do it; it seemed such a waste to
him, especially when he could have been getting all the
fucking he could handle with his wife, Evelyn.
It's damned strange that I can't get it up with her!
Maybe... it's because she's so eager for it... always
letting me know that she's hot for it... and coming
after me! Christ! I don't know... she's so aggressive
sometimes! Again, a truth was dogging him, but Fred
didn't recognize it when he saw it. What he knew for
sure was: My cock just lies there limp as hell! And,
even if I do get it about half hard... it'll just curl
up and die on me!
And, now as he watched, his own excitement mounting, he
saw the young wife slithering down over her husband's
chest, her mouth kissing his flat belly. Lower and
lower she moved, until she was kneeling between his
wide-spread legs, her hands busy, one caressing his
ball-filled scrotum, while the other held the thick
length of his cock's shaft. Then, her smiling lips were
coming down to the throbbing head of it as her tiny
hand retracted the loose folds of the foreskin to
reveal the reddish satin of her husband's cock's head.
Damn! She's going to suck him, tonight! Fred's cock
jerked involuntarily with erotic excitement against the
confining cloth of his shorts and pants, and his hand
went down there again to soothe and fondle.
He was thinking about Evelyn, again. Maybe it would be
a good idea to take his throbbing erection into the
living room... and make it with her there. Without any
rough stuff, though; just a nice, smooth seduction with
the fucking taking place on the couch or the floor. Any
place but the bedroom!... But, he couldn't tear himself
away from the sex show going on in the apartment below.
The young blonde had her husband's prick in her mouth,
now, and Holden let his imagination roam, trying to
envision what it would feel like to have that delicious
tongue swirling around the head of his cock. It was
hard to hold the binocular steady with one hand, and he
stopped his unconscious stroking of his own penis,
intent upon watching the other man's hard shaft as it
was absorbed deeper into his wife's mouth. With both
hands holding the glasses now, he watched the golden
blonde head bean to bob slowly up and down the turgid
length of it, the binocular giving him a close-up view
of everything that was happening.
He saw tiny, pink flanges of her inner lips pulled out,
glistening with droplets of moisture, on the upstroke;
then, they were stuffed back inside, her lips rolling
inward as they nibbled their way back down to absorb
almost all of her man's cock on each downward bob of
her head. Her eyes were closed; her face serene, and
the spun-gold of her hair was cascading down over her
husband's hairy thighs. Then he noticed that the young
man was flexing his hips, driving his massive cock even
deeper up into his wife's ovalled lips.
Now, she was taking all of it; her nose was nestling
down solidly into the black hairiness of her husband's
groin. Having watched the young couple enough during
the last few weeks to know that the younger man's fully
erect prick was something to reckon with, as he'd
watched him pull it completely clear before ramming it
back home again into his wife's undulantly receptive
cunt, Fred was pretty sure how much cock she was taking
deep into her mouth and throat. Hell's fire! She's got
all of it in her mouth... and that husband of hers is
hung with about eight inches of hard cock... at least!
Fred Holden could barely contain his own mounting
excitement, as he watched the young wife from next
door, her head beginning now to move a little faster
and her husband's hands groping down to either side of
her head to guide her ovalled, sucking mouth, while at
the same time his hips rose and fell in rhythmic
counterpoint, as he thrust upward at her with desperate
urgency. Damn! She's going to suck him off... all the
way!
As he watched the oral-genital act between the young,
married couple, the idea began to grow, little by
little, until he knew that he'd have to have that
sweet, young thing, next door. Somehow, he would get to
her... take her to bed, and... Christ! He could already
feel that luscious flesh, her mouth working on him, his
own tongue in that tight, little cunt... and finally
his stiff, throbbing cock plumbing her, her clinging
cuntal sheath slipping along the length of his thick
prick. If I work it just right... God!
Faster and faster her gold-crowned head moved over her
husband's loins, her mouth alternately nibbling and
sucking, her cheeks hollowing, her lips stretched in a
wide oval around that monster shaft tightening and
relaxing, and Fred knew that in a moment it would be
over. Even more fervently he wished that it could be
he, who would be cumming in his neighbor's wife's
deliciously sucking mouth.
With a final, upward, ramming thrust of his hips the
young husband came. Fred saw him go rigid, and at the
base of the man's hard cock there was a little stretch
of it that could be seen clearly through the glasses.
Fascinated, he watched as it expanded and contracted
rhythmically, pumping his semen splashing into his
wife's still sucking mouth; then he saw her throat, the
muscles working as she swallowed, and unconsciously,
Fred's hand went down to his own pulsing cock, his
fingers fumbling with the zipper tab. In a moment he
was hauling his hardened cock out of his fly, his hand
gripping it tightly and moving it, and he was aware
that the head of it was moist and hot.
Suddenly, he stopped! Why the hell should I? Christ!
I've got a hard-on that won't stop!... So, why don't I
use it the right way? He'd do it! He'd go into the
living room... and fuck his wife, Evelyn. Rip her
clothes off... throw her down on the God damned rug...
and fuck her half silly!
Stuffing his turgid, demanding prick back into his
pants but not bothering to zip his fly, Fred Holden put
the binocular on the desk as he went by on his way to
the living room, thinking: I should've done it before
this... instead of letting her ridicule me... accusing
me of not being a real man! Impotent? Damn! Just wait
until she sees this!
The living room was empty!
The TV set was still going, but Evelyn was not there!
"Evelyn?"
No answer.
Swiftly, Fred Holden searched their apartment. She
wasn't in the bedroom or the bath; however, he saw her
purse on the dresser, so he knew that she couldn't have
gone far. Just to make sure he went downstairs and
checked the carport. Both their cars were there. Well
hey! She must be off visiting somewhere in the
apartments!
Fred was disappointed... and as he searched for his
wife, of course, his erection began to subside, until
in a few moments it was soft again. God damn! What a
time for her to be running off somewhere!
He was outside already; the Southern California evening
was balmy and pleasant. Aimlessly, he began to walk
among the buildings of the apartment complex, telling
himself that he was looking for Evelyn... but he found
himself looking into windows with open drapes, hoping
to see her... or someone else, like a shapely
housewife, fetchingly naked, dashing across the room,
forgetting that her windows were open to the world.
And then, he was prowling along between the buildings
searching for open windows of bedrooms, which were
situated almost consistently to the rear of the
apartments. Christ! he thought once. Am I turning into
a real peeper? The thought caromed around inside his
skull. It gave him momentary pause, as he remembered
that there were laws about peeping. It was one thing to
watch from the privacy of his own apartment... but out
there in the dark, prowling around? It's too damned
risky! They'd put me in a cell... or send me to a
shrink!
It scared him to think about it, now. Some crazy guy
might think I'm a burglar... or something, and take a
shot at me! He remembered having read of just that
happening. It had been in the morning newspaper, just
three days ago. Christ! He began making his way back to
his own apartment.
Glancing at his wristwatch, when he gained the safety
of their apartment, Fred saw that it was eleven-fifteen
already. He snapped off the blaring TV set and made
another hasty search of the rooms. Evelyn wasn't back
yet.
In his office-study, he covered the adding machine and
closed the ledger he had been working on, angry with
himself that he hadn't gotten more of the work done.
Restlessly, he looked out the window, down toward that
young couple's bedroom, hoping that perhaps they had
gone on to other things, after that luscious, little
blonde thing had sucked-off her husband. He'd never
know now, because the drapes had been closed; however,
the light was still on. He could see the glow filtering
through. "Damn! Just my luck!" he growled to himself. I
suppose I might as well take my shower and get ready to
go to bed...
Out of curiosity, he looked from their bedroom window.
He'd never been able to see anything from there,
before, but tonight as he looked down toward the ground
floor apartment to the West, he gasped with surprise.
Damn! Look at that!
There on the bed were three people: Two women and a
man! It s the Holloways! He knew them slightly, a
nodding acquaintance... But, who the hell is that
black-haired woman? He looked more closely. She was on
her knees and elbows, her soft, white buttocks-cheeks
raised, undulating back against the hard shaft of Vince
Holloway's plunging cock that ground deep into her
vagina, lined sparsely with pubic hair as jet-black as
that of her head... and her face was nuzzled down
between the smooth, tapering thighs... the sun-bronzed
thighs of Vince's wife, Thelma. Pendulant, below her
torso, he saw full, pear-shaped breasts that swung
prettily to and fro as she bucked back against his
neighbor, fucking back, for all she was worth.
He knew that she would be tall and willowy, if she were
standing, which was exactly the way Evelyn looked. In
fact, he had the sinking feeling in the pit of his
stomach... that it was his wife, Evelyn, but he
couldn't see her face, hidden as it was down between
the other woman's legs. It didn't take any imagination
to know what she was doing with her mouth down there.
Christ! He had to know for sure whether or not it was
Evelyn in the Holloway's bedroom being fucked from the
back like an alley cat, while at the same time she was
eating that Amazon, Thelma Holloway, who lay on her
back, thighs spread obscenely and thoroughly enjoying
every moment of it. He had to know!
Stumblingly, Fred rushed into his office grabbed his
field glasses and ran back into the bedroom,
remembering to snap off the light, so that he would be
in darkness, lessening the chance of anyone seeing him
as he watched the scene below. God! He hoped that he
was wrong!... But, God damn it... I ought to know my
own wife's naked body... even without seeing her face!
He was already raging inside, as he raised the
binocular to his eyes and focused on the threesome,
fucking in the bedroom of the Holloway's apartment.
Her face was still hidden, but he swept his glasses
over the black-haired woman's svelte figure. It was
Evelyn all right! The God damned slut! He could clearly
see Vince's cock, the shaft of it glistening dully with
viscid moisture as it pounded in and out of Fred's
wife's cunt. The son-of-a-bitch!
Then, he was concentrating on Thelma's loins, hoping
that she would shift the position of her legs, or that
Evelyn would raise her head for a moment. As he
watched, his anger boiling over in him at being
cuckolded, Thelma raised her thighs and pulled her
knees back against the fullness of her large, melon-
like breasts. He could see the white suntan line of her
bikini tops as well as the bottoms... and now he could
see Evelyn's face in profile, her finely chiseled
features plainly recognizable. Her tiny, pink tongue
was shooting out licking, concentrating directly on the
palpitating clitoris of the other woman.
All he could do, for the time being, was watch
helplessly. He had already thought about it, discarding
the idea as quickly as it had come... thought about
going over there, himself and either drag his wife
home... or join them. He knew that the first would
cause an uproar and possibly bring on unnecessary
violence. The alternate option didn't appeal to him
either; Thelma Holloway was a beautiful woman,
perfectly proportioned... but big. She was nearly six
feet tall. That's why Fred Holden thought of her as an
Amazon. Damn! I don't know whether I'd be able to make
it with her! That idea, too was abandoned. He'd just
wait until Evelyn came home; then, he'd do something...
Watching Vince slam his massive cock into Evelyn from
behind, like a rutting boar, Fred's own prick came up,
again, to painfully throbbing erection. Suddenly, he
realized that he was watching the finale of the a trois
sex act in the apartment below, for now the three were
writhing in the throes of impending orgasm. Thelma's
loins undulated up to Evelyn's mouth, where now Fred
saw that her tongue was disappearing right into the
pink cleft of the other woman's outsize cuntal opening.
Holloway was a large man, also. He loomed above Evelyn,
driving deep into her back-thrusting loins with pile-
driver force, the speed of his strokes becoming ever
faster and faster.
It was Thelma, whose soaring orgasm burst over her
first. She opened her mouth to scream as convulsive
shudders swept over her body. Her eyes were blazed; her
mouth gaping wide as she panted out her release. Holden
couldn't actually hear her very plainly, but there was
a muffled, high pitched sound. He was sure that it was
her final scream of ecstatic passion.
Then, as Holloway's wife slumped back, her legs
straightening out to lie flat but still wide-spread,
her chest heaving with deep pantings causing the full
mounds of her breasts to rise and fall, Fred saw that
his wife, Evelyn, was in full-throated screams of
rapture. This time he heard it faintly, "GOD! FUCK ME!
HARDER! OH FUCK, I'M CUMMINGGG ARRGGH!!!"
The sound of his wife's voice slashed through him like
a saber. He had heard that sound of passion so seldom,
himself that hearing it caused by another man's
pounding cock in her was the rawest hurt of all. The
God damned bitch! She's no better than a cheap whore!
What really cut to the quick was the realization that
Evelyn really hadn't given him much of a chance to
prove that he could satisfy her.
Now, there was yet another gnawing suspicion: How
long's she been out alleycatting? The dismaying thought
that she may have been looking for her sexual kicks
some other place, almost ever since they'd been
married... five months, now, was like a kick in the
groin for him. God damn her! I'll show her when she
gets back here! I'll show her! I'LL SHOW HER!
Barely able to watch, as his jealous rage dimmed his
eyesight, he saw Vince Holloway jack hammering into
Evelyn's clasping cunt, and he knew that the man was on
the verge of cumming... Then, he drove into Fred's wife
for the final, cunt- plumbing thrust and his big body
went stiff, as he ground it hard and deep into her
passion-trembling belly.
He knew what the other man was feeling... that
satisfying spurt of semen, hosing through the length of
your aching cock, the final, sweet release from
building tension... and in a way, he couldn't condemn
Holloway for doing what he was doing to Evelyn;
especially if she was the one who provoked it. At that
point, he was sure in his own mind that it was Evelyn
who was at fault.
The bastard's only doing what I'd do too if some gal as
sexy and as forward as Evelyn was throwing it right at
me! He thought about that for a moment and changed his
mind. No! Damn it! That's the trouble! Evelyn is too
damned forward... it turns me off so that I can't get
an erection! A glimmer of the truth he was looking for
filtered through to him. She doesn't let me start
things, chase her a little... seduce her... then mount
her and duck her... like a man! Finally, he was sure of
it. The knowledge was his! That's it, God damn it!
That's it! Things are going to change!
Chapter 2
It was five minutes to midnight when Fred Holden heard
his wife come through the front door of their
apartment. He was lying in bed waiting for her, the
sheet pulled up over his nude body. Down between his
legs, his cock was still hard and ready for action.
He had done everything he could to make sure that it
was in an excited state. After the scene in the
Holloway's apartment had ended, he had dug out some
pornographic magazines from the closet, perusing them
closely and keeping his mind on purely erotic things.
His hand, too, had helped, as he'd caressed the
hardened shaft just enough to keep it hard. He was
determined that Evelyn would know, beyond any shadow of
a doubt that he was a virile man. He just had to show
her who was the man in their family!
Walking silently on bare feet, Evelyn came into their
bedroom, hoping that her husband would be asleep. She
had stayed longer at the Holloway's than she had
intended, but she had rehearsed an alibi line that she
was sure sounded plausible.
As she opened the door, she saw that the dim, bedside
light was still on, and that Fred was in bed already.
He sat upright.
"Where the hell have you been?" his voice fairly
crackled.
"Oh," she trilled lightly, "I didn't know you were
awake, darling."
"I asked you, where you've been, darling!
"Well, if you must know... I was downstairs, at the
Holloway's. Thelma was having some trouble with a
needlepoint design she's doing... and I was helping her
on..." Evelyn recited, telling just enough of the truth
to make it plausible.
"Very domestic!" Fred grated. "But you're lying,
because I saw you!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Evelyn challenged,
holding her ground.
"Just this, God damn it!" He leaped from the bed and
reached her in two steps. Grabbing his wife's arm in a
vise-like grip, he forced her over to the bedroom
window. "Look down there!"
"Wh-Where? Evelyn was a little frightened, now.
"Down to the right!" His other hand entangled in her
long, black hair, forcing her to look in the direction
he indicated.
"Anything interesting in the Holloway's bedroom?"
Horror-stricken, Evelyn found herself looking down at
Thelma Holloway stretched out, nude, on the bed she had
just occupied with them both only minutes before. The
brown-haired woman's body lay supine, her legs spread
out at an obscene angle, and she was talking to her
husband, Vince, hidden from her view in another part of
the bedroom. My God! He knows! Of course, what Thelma
was saying couldn't be heard.
"She must be talking about you!" Fred grunted.
"Probably saying something about having you over again
sometime... to help with the needlepoint work!"
Twisting her head around to look at her husband, Evelyn
wailed, "Let me go! You don't understand!"
"Are you denying that you weren't down there... on that
bed with both of them... getting fucked, like a bitch
in heat... and eating her cunt... at the same time?" He
made the question an accusation, a statement of
irrefutable fact.
At that moment, the large, rawboned figure of Vince
Holloway loomed in front of the window in the apartment
below, naked like his wife, Thelma, the long, thick
stiffness of another growing erection plainly evident,
as he reached for the pull cord and shut the drapes,
effectively cutting off the view into their bedroom.
Fred pulled his trembling, emotion-ridden wife away
from the window and releasing his grip on her hair
reached over and closed the curtains of their bedroom.
Evelyn turned toward him, her face drained of color,
and she was aware, for the first time, that her husband
was naked. Spearing out from his muscular, hair-covered
loins was the unmistakable evidence of arousal. His
penis stood out hard, rampant and throbbing, and her
eyes swept down to it, widening in surprise as she saw
its fiery, blood-engorged head, pulsing with his
heartbeat. Its thick length stood up at an acute angle,
almost parallel to his abdomen.
Looking back up at his face, she saw his lewd smirk of
satisfaction. "What do you think about that... darling
wife? And, how'd you like to be fucked by me... your
husband, for a change?"
Instantly, the fear in her eyes was replaced by a
building interest, and she said a little prayer of
thanksgiving. Thank God! He's not going to beat me!
With a lewd, little smile of her own trembling across
her sensuous lips, she asked, "Did it make you all
hot... watching us, down there?"
"Then, you admit it?"
"It'd be hard not to," she told him levelly. "Please,
let me go, Fred? You're hurting my arm!"
He let her go, mumbling an automatic, "Sorry."
She came close to him, her loins grinding into the
hardened shaft of his cock. Feeling it hot and hard
through the thin layers of her clothing, she raised her
lips up to him to be kissed. He didn't put his arms
around her; neither did he try to kiss her.
"I thought you wanted to?"
"Fuck you?" he growled.
"Yes."
"I do and I will!"
Fred pushed his wife back away from him, his hand
lashing out to grasp the low-cut neckline of her
blouse.
Evelyn gasped, "No!" She realized instantly his intent.
"My way!" he grated, giving a tremendous yank that
ripped her blouse all the way to her waist, the buttons
flipping off and flying in all directions.
Again, real terror knifed through her. She backed away
from him, looking down at her ruined blouse, her eyes
brimming with tears. "God, no, Fred! Please?" she
whined. He's acting like a maniac!
With grim determination Fred methodically ripped the
rest of her thin blouse from her and tossed the shreds
of it away. Her filmy bra was next; one hard pull at
the point where the cups joined divided it into two
useless parts, her freed breasts popping out to soar
naked and white, the cool air of the room washing over
their soft, warm and firmly pliant orbs.
Then Fred pulled the straps of her bra from her arms
and stood back to admire his handiwork. Her breasts
stood out, moundingly, the satin-like skin of them
glowing alabaster-white in the soft light of their
bedroom, and he saw that her nipples were elongating
prettily, the areolas wrinkling up around the bases of
the rapidly hardening berry-like paps.
His aim was to debase and humiliate his wife as much as
possible, and he was off to a good start. One of his
groping hands found the hardened shaft of his aching
cock, and he grasped it hard, as with lewdly smiling
eyes, he asked, "What do you think I'm going to do with
this?"
"Oh, God, darling... I-I don't know..." Evelyn cried
miserably. "Rape me... I suppose..." God! I've got to
do something! Any thing!
Suddenly, she was on her knees before him, her hands
reaching out, tremblingly toward his throbbing cock,
her mouth working tremulously, as she murmured, "Let
me..."
Putting both hands on her shoulders, her husband pushed
her back, until she was sitting on her heels.
"Let you what? Suck me off?" he grunted, denying even
to himself that he would have loved for her to do just
that, but he had other plans... for her! "Not on your
life! That'd be too easy!"
Evelyn was confused and she felt his rebuff sharply. "I
just wanted to give you..." she began.
"You mean you wanted to side-track me!" he roared.
"No, please, Fred... I just wanted to make everything
all right... again!"
"Listen, Bitch... you've made fun of me for the last
time... because I couldn't get a hard-on... some of the
time!"
"I didn't mean to... do that..."
"But, you did, God damn it! You thought I was impotent!
Well, take a good look at my cock! Does that look like
I can't do anything?"
"It's just... beautiful!" she breathed, her hands going
out, again, in an attempt to touch it, fondle it... and
just maybe get to kiss it and suck it for a little
while.
"Don't touch it!" Fred Holden warned.
"But, why, darling? I love you... and I want to..." Her
hands dropped down into her lap, and she looked up at
him imploringly.
"Love me? Ha! That's a good one! Is that why you were
down there with the Holloway's, acting like a cheap,
little whore?"
"No... please, believe me, I was doing it because I
couldn't help myself. I needed it!"
"Well, they say confession's good for the soul!" he
remarked.
"But, that doesn't mean, I love you less..."
"I saw you being fucked!"
"That's just sex... nothing else!" she sobbed. "You
know I... can't do without it! I've got to have it
regularly... just like eating and breathing..." Then,
looking down at the floor, she went on, "And, I wasn't
getting enough... from..."
"Okay! I wasn't fucking you enough! That's what you're
saying! I'll buy that... and I want to tell you
something I figured out, just this evening!"
"What's that?" his wife looked up eagerly into his
face.
"I found out that I can't get it up because you're too
God damned eager for it!"
"You mean I'm too aggressive?"
"That's it! You don't let me start the action!"
"Oh God, I didn't realize..."
"So, from now on, I'm the one who's going to do the
seducing... and the chasing... and I'm going to do the
fucking... understand?"
His hands were under her armpits lifting her to her
feet. She hadn't answered, and he repeated his
question, giving her a shake, "God damn it! Do you
understand, Evelyn?"
She understood him clearly. God! It was a horrible
mistake! "Yes, darling... I-I do understand," she
managed, a keening thrill going through her, as she
tried to imagine what it would be like... with her
playing the part of a demure, shyly retiring wife,
waiting for her Lord and Master to seduce her, instead
of the other way around. "I understand..."
"Good! Because, I'm going to make you pay for tonight's
little escapade!"
"Are you going to... fuck me, now?" Evelyn asked, a
tone of resignation in her voice.
"I sure as hell am!"
Now, she was eager and ready for it, but she didn't
want to let him know that, in the light of her new-
found knowledge. She wanted it... wanted her husband's
massive prick pounding in and out of her cunt. A little
smile of expectant anticipation lifted the corners of
her lips, and she brushed tears away from her smoky,
hazel eyes.
"Then, take me, darling! Fuck me! Fuck me... any way
you want to!" She began drifting sultrily toward their
bed.
"You bet I'll fuck you the way I want to!" he grated, a
sadistic grin splitting his face, lewdly. "How would
you like to be fucked in the ass?"
Evelyn turned on him cat-like. "No!" she gasped. "God,
no!"
He's crazy!
The shock was intended. Actually, he had toyed with the
idea and discarded it. Later, maybe... Right then, his
intent was different.
Roughly, he pushed her down onto the bed, and as she
sprawled backward, supine, her skirt riding up her
lovely, tapered, white thighs, he saw the jet-black
triangle of her pubic hair. She had not worn her
panties home. He stared for a moment, new rage burning
in him, as he remembered how Vince Holloway had been
plunging his thick, lengthy cock's shaft in and out of
her cunt, just minutes ago. Christ! His cum's still up
inside her! He wasn't interested in fucking her in the
cunt... just then. Anyway, he wasn't sure he could...
with the other man's semen still pudding in her. Damn!
It's kind of sickening!
Then, with both hands he grabbed his wife's ankles and
swung her around straight in the bed. Deliberately, he
reached out and pulled her skirt down to cover up her
loins.
Dry-eyed, now, Evelyn watched him, and she was
completely confused. What's he going to do? He doesn't
want me... to use my mouth... and he's covering me
up... down there... God! "What do you want me... to do,
Fred, darling?" she queried.
"Shall I take off the rest of my clothes?"
Holden was crawling up on the bed now, his eyes locked
onto the twin peaks of her softly mounding breasts;
then, kneeling above her, he threw a leg over her body,
straddling her waist. "No... you're stripped enough,
already!"
Avidly, his hands dug into the satin-smooth flesh of
her white, full-mooned breasts, his fingers massaging
them cruelly.
Beneath him, Evelyn looked up at him beseechingly and
moaned, "You're hurting me!"
"You're damned lucky I'm not beating the hell out of
you!" he spat down at-her.
Her eyes widened. "You wouldn't!?"
"I thought about it!"
"What are you going to do to me?"
"This!"
Fred spat saliva into the palm of his hand and smeared
it on the head of his blood-engorged cock. Reaching
down, then, he took both her hands in his and placed
them on either side of a quivering breast. "Hold your
tits up, like that... and push them close together!" he
instructed, leering down at her sadistically.
She knew instantly what he intended and tried to pull
her hands free of his strong-fingered grip.
"Oh, God, Fred... that's no better than..." she began
whiningly.
"No better than jacking-off? You're right! I'm going to
have my fun while you watch me... same as I watched
you... being fucked by Vince Holloway!"
"But, there's nothing in it for me!"
"I know... and that's the way I want it!"
Holding her hands in place to push up and close the
space between her lovely, white breasts, he moved
forward to thrust the head of his cock into the tight,
fleshy channel they made.
"Now, hold those luscious tits of yours just like
that!" he ground out at her, taking his hands away to
place them flat on the bed, supporting himself on
muscular arms above her, as he began to saw the pulsing
shaft of his cock in and out in a fucking motion.
Evelyn was dismayed, but she obeyed him, pressing her
full- mounded and now tingling breasts up to form the
substitute sex channel between them. She felt the
humiliation and debasement of it keenly... But, I
suppose it's better than having my eyes blackened... or
being sodomized, like he threatened. Of course, she had
known that she was playing with dynamite... when she
had agreed to make love to Vince, but she had not
reckoned with Thelma Holloway. The statuesque blonde
had insisted on making it a trio... had actually made
most of the seductive overtures. Evelyn shivered with
the memory of what it had been like with Thelma. God!
Such delicious sensations!
She tried to feel some guilt about what she had done,
but it came out more like the child, who caught with
his hands in the cookie jar, is more chagrined with
being caught in the act than suffering guilt for
stealing the goodies. I just had to do it.. because I
really thought Fred couldn't do it often enough... to
keep me satisfied! Had she searched deeper into
herself, she may have discovered, perhaps, that no one
man could satisfy her. There are women like that.
Evelyn was probably one of them.
Feeling the warmly throbbing shaft of her husband's
prick sliding in and out between her breasts, she
became aware of a tingling thrill coursing through the
soft mounds of flesh, and unconsciously her hands began
to knead them closer around the plunging shaft of his
cock. It was a new and different sensation; one she had
never before experienced. He wants me to feel put
down... and I suppose that I deserve it!
But, the humiliation he wanted her to feel; indeed,
what she did feel for a few moments, was rapidly being
dispelled, to be replaced with a glowing arousal. She
could feel it spreading down through her belly,
igniting a banked fire in her loins. God! I'm getting
hot! Maybe she could... but it was too much to hope
for. Looking up into her husband's face, she saw that
he was totally involved, his face hanging slack, his
eyes glazed with passion, and she knew that it would be
over for him in just a few moments. Maybe later... I
could work on him... get him hard, again, and get him
to fuck me... for real...
Straddling his wife's trembling torso and wantonly
shoving his hard, demanding cock in and out of the soft
tunnel of flesh between her luscious breasts, Fred
Holden felt the tightening and relaxing around his
throbbing length caused by her kneading hands on them.
He knew that he was going to cum any second, now and
that what he was doing was little better than a
sophisticated masturbation; however, it was the only
way he knew to humiliate and debase her.
"I'm going to cum... in just a little while," he
grunted down at her. "And I'm going to let it shoot all
over you!"
"All right darling, if that's what you want," Evelyn
murmured.
"Damn right that's what I want! I want you to feel
dirty!"
Then, he felt the searing burn of his semen as it began
its hosing journey through the tube of his hardened
prick. He was cumming! It spurted from the slitted tip
of his cock to splash white and hot on her chest and in
the hollow of her neck. "AAaagh!" he grunted. "There,
Bitch! How do you like that... from your impotent
husband?"
What could she answer? There wasn't anything to say. He
had done it... and there was only one thing she could
do: Take a shower and clean herself up. There was that
feeling of being half aroused, and she could do
something about that... later.
Panting for breath, Fred held himself in position above
his wife, until she began to squirm beneath him in an
attempt to free herself from his pinning body.
"Let me up now," Evelyn whined pleadingly, "I've got to
take a shower!"
"Yeah, okay," he agreed, flopping over to his side, as
she wriggled free and hopped off the bed, heading for
the bathroom. He stopped her with a restraining hand.
"And while you're at it... get yourself clean... inside
and out!"
She questioned him with her eyes.
"Maybe we can both have some fun later," he promised.
"God Fred, I was hoping you'd say that!" his wife
smiled with relief.
"And, much later on, we've got to do some serious
talking!" Fred smiled meaningfully.
"About me?"
"About us!"
He released her arm and giving her an affectionate slap
on the buttocks, said, "Go ahead and get cleaned up...
and I might even let you suck me for a little while!"
Evelyn hurried, feeling a rising excitement glowing in
her, secure in the knowledge that tonight she would
have a real hot- blooded husband... for a change, and
on reflection as she stepped into the shower, she was
glad for that change.
Chapter 3
"Now Susan, if you'll sort of slide down to the edge of
the stool, then lean back on your elbows... That's it!
Just fine, now. Hold it!" The man speaking was
squatting on the floor, focusing his camera on her
naked loins, and Susan Merrill following his directions
to the letter, obediently did his bidding. "Now... just
spread your legs, nice and wide. I want to get a couple
of shots from this angle!"
Slowly, she allowed her thighs to part, exposing the
whole of her genital area to the stranger's eyes and
the probing lens of his camera.
"Like this?" Susan asked amiably.
"Yeah, that's fine! Hold it just like that!" His camera
clicked, and immediately he thumbed the mechanism to
the next frame. "A little wider, now!" He came in
closer, focusing his lens for a close-up, snapped the
picture and said. "That's just great!"
Standing up, then, he stepped back and looked at her
nude figure critically. He was obviously a successful
business man. Dressed impeccably, hair trim done by
razor-cut, nails manicured to perfection, his hands
soft and white, graying at the temples and his body a
little flabby, he was probably well past fifty-five
years of age. In his wallet he no doubt would be
carrying pictures of two or three grandchildren, the
oldest perhaps nine or ten years old, and at home there
would be a past middle-age wife... yet he was here in
this Rent-a-Model studio taking obscenely pornographic
pictures of a lovely, blue-eyed, blonde woman, young
enough to be one of his daughters.
It was nearing the end of the thirty minute picture
taking session, for which her client had paid twenty
dollars, and Susan Merrill stood to her feet, reaching
for a light wrapper she had shed when he had come into
the small, intimate studio carrying his own camera bag.
Impersonally, acting according to her instructions and
functioning more like a sales clerk than a nude model,
she said, "We can do the developing and printing here
for you, Sir."
She was shrugging into her cover-up garment, and he
glanced with surprise at his elegant, gold wristwatch,
seeing that barely a minute remained of his half-hour.
A look of undisguised disappointment passed over his
handsome features.
"All right, I'll leave the film for processing... but
look we still have about a minute, and I've got just
two shots left, Miss? Couldn't I..."
"Susan," she filled in for him. "I'm number one hundred
fifteen... and I'm sorry, the time's up."
"Do you have some other numbers to go along with your
name... like a telephone number?"
"I'm sorry Sir, that's against the rules. The only
other numbers I can give you are: Thirty-eight, twenty-
five, thirty-six!" She fielded his attempt to establish
a liaison, easily, casually, and walking to the door,
pushed the call-bell button signaling Linda Sloan at
the front desk that she was finished; then with a
friendly smile she went on, "You can leave your film
with Miss Sloan as you go out."
The message was clear. He had been told in a thoroughly
professional way that his time was up. Turning to leave
reluctantly, he asked as he swung the door open, "If I
decide to come back, again, is it possible to make an
appointment, so I'll be sure to get you..."
"Yes, Sir, it is," she assured him. "Miss Sloan will
issue you an identity number."
"I see," he mused. "The customer's are protected, too!"
"Yes, Sir, Miss Sloan made up the system, and she
insists that everyone be anonymous." She took the
doorknob on the inside and began closing the door.
Linda Sloan also didn't like for her models and their
customers to spend any extra time in conversation.
Just then, Miss Sloan appeared in the hallway, meeting
Susan's client as he came out the door. "I hope you've
enjoyed your session with Susan, here at The Camera's
Eye, Sir," she said, smoothly, escorting the gentleman
along the hall toward the front office.
"Oh yes, very much."
Over her shoulder, Linda Sloan addressed Susan. "I have
one more client for you, dear... then you can take your
break."
"All right, Miss Sloan." She closed the door and waited
for yet another stranger to come in for the purpose of
taking nude pictures of her. Invariably, it seemed,
they would be older men taking a voyeur's delight in
the loveliness of her body. Some would be shy, only
wanting to look and take pictures, barely saying
anything to her. Others only wanted to talk, forgetting
to take any pictures at all... but there were others
who made it clear that they were interested in her to
the extent of making passes, fondling and caressing.
Those men, of course, were asked to leave her alone. If
they persisted... she asked them to leave. Beyond that,
a secret signal would bring Linda Sloan and one of the
male models to her room, and the customer would be
escorted to the street.
As she sat down on the mattress covered with a fake
tiger's fur spread, Susan Merrill thought about the
strange way she was making extra money. It was better
than being a Library Clerk at the University. The work
was easy: All she had to do was pose nude for the
voyeuristic clients. For this she was paid six dollars
and fifty cents for each half-hour session, and most
days she was only on hand for four or five hours.
She remembered how shocked her husband, Ron, had been
when she had told him she had quit her job at the
library to take this job at The Camera's Eye.
"Do you mean to say," Ron had asked with troubled brown
eyes, "that you're going to strip naked so these kinky
guys can photograph you?"
"That's right, darling... but it's strictly business.
If the customers break the rules, out they go!"
"Look but don't touch, is that it?"
"Yes!" she answered. "Look, here's one of Miss Sloan's
business cards."
He took the card and read: THE CAMERA'S EYE, Rent-a-
model, Camera furnished, Film processed and printed,
The studio choice of discerning lensmen.
"What happens if some guy tries to get funny with you?"
"There are some men working as models, too... and they
give them the heave-ho!"
"Hell! It's kinkier than I thought, then, if she's got
Muscle Beach boys there, too!"
"I don't understand, Ron?"
"Well, they must be there for the gay ones to take
pictures of!" he explained. "Are there any Butch types
come?"
"You mean women... who?"
"Yeah, you know, Lesbians?"
"I don't know?"
"Well, I wouldn't be surprised..."
In the end, Susan had gone to work at The Camera's Eye,
because she could earn more money there, it was
necessary. If Ron were to finish up the work on his
Doctorate, it was up to her to help him get it. Some of
the grants in aid had been withdrawn from the
University, and it was a hard decision for Ron and
Susan to make. Her husband was already well into his
course work, his Thesis subject selected and approved
by The Graduate Committee, and he had begun the
grueling research work.
If he had to leave school, now it would be harder to
come back, later, to finish up the requirements for the
degree. Susan volunteered to drop out of her own
studies to go to work, but the job in the University
Library just didn't pay enough, making it necessary for
Ron to take time from his studies to earn living money.
That was when Susan heard about The Camera's Eye. Her
photogenic, blonde beauty and her lovely figure got her
the job immediately.
It was a terribly frightened, nervous and apprehensive
Susan Merrill, who took off all of her clothing for the
first time... while a man, a total stranger, watched
her with avid eyes, adjusted his camera, turned on the
photo floodlights and began taking pictures of her
naked loveliness. Some of the poses she had been asked
to assume were, to say the least, obscene, but as time
passed she became accustomed to being asked for certain
poses.
And, there was a certain excitement in it, too. She
knew what some of the men were thinking. Their
conversation, the words and gestures they used in
getting her into position were highly descriptive...
and erotic. "Now, Baby... I want you to put both hands
down there... on either side of your cunt... and pull
it apart for me!"
Or, another might tell her, "Roll your nipples in your
fingers to get them hard... then wet them with some
saliva!" Yet another would order, "I want to get a shot
of your chit... while it's all nice and hard!" Or:
"Shove a couple of your fingers in your cant!"
Once, after she had had a whole series of such lewd
requests, especially one involving a huge dildo, a
customer had brought along with him, she had complained
to Linda Sloan, the owner, about it.
"As long as the customer doesn't touch you," Linda
explained, "I've said that they can pose you any way
they want!"
"But..." Susan didn't know exactly how to say it. She
tried, "Some of them talk so filthy... and when they
ask me to do certain things... it makes me..."
"Makes you what?" Linda's jade-green eyes questioned.
"Well, they're talking about sex and wanting me to do
things to myself and..."
"And, you get all aroused?"
"Yes, that's it," Susan breathed.
Linda Sloan smiled a secret, little smirk as she
answered, "Most of the girls have reported things like
that... but I suppose the only thing you can do is get
used to it. It seems to be a part of the picture. Of
course... if you want to quit... it's up to you. I've
got a whole drawer full of applications, so there's no
problem in getting a replacement for you."
The meaning of Miss Sloan's dismissal of her complaint
was very clear: Do what's asked... or quit! Susan
decided not to quit, but she was also very sure that
she'd never get used to being in a sexually, half-
aroused state during her working hours.
Then, as she sat there musing, the door to her studio
opened and a short, stocky, gray-haired man walked in
carrying a Polaroid color camera. Susan recognized him;
the man had come to the Camera's Eye several times
before this, and each time he had asked for Susan,
number one hundred and fifteen. He also always rented
one of the studio's cameras.
"Hello, there, Susan Baby!" he smiled broadly. "I'm
back again!"
"Hello," Susan grinned shyly, not bothering to get up.
She knew that this man wanted to take most of his
pictures of her while she was lying down. Loosening the
belt of her robe she began to pull it off. "What kind
of poses do you want, today?"
From a brown, paper bag he removed several thin, silk
scarves, light and diaphanous. "Here," he said, holding
up one of the wisps of see-through material, "I'd like
to get some shots of you with these!"
"I'm really not much of a Salome," Susan remarked,
kiddingly. Her wrapper was off, now, revealing her
curvaceous body.
"You'll do, until I find a better one," the customer
told her, his hungry eyes sweeping over her luscious,
naked body.
Linda drove their little, foreign car home from her
afternoon's nude modeling stint at The Camera's Eye,
feeling more than usual that state of being half
sexually aroused. Having strange men's eyes devour her
curvaceously nude body and knowing that later they
would be enjoying seeing her, again, as they perused
the prints or slides, perhaps showing them gloatingly
to yet other strangers, their friends and associates,
gave her a giddy feeling of awe and wonder that her
body could excite men so very much; for excite them she
did. She saw it in their eyes... and in the throbbing
bulges inside their pants, which for the most part they
tried to conceal out of embarrassment or nervousness.
Of course, she was safe from any molestation, but the
idea had crossed her mind as to what could happen... if
their were no restraints, the rules set down by Miss
Sloan set aside, even for a little while. Ugh! It
didn't take much imagination to know that the wishful
desire in those men's eyes would be translated into
action, almost instantly.
Her working hours as a Rent-a-Model were in the
afternoon, designed to catch the business men on their
long lunch hour. She was usually finished by five-
thirty or six, so she could get home to cook a hot,
nutritious dinner for Ron. When she had taken the job
at The Camera's Eye, Ron had insisted that she not work
any evening hours. It was just as well, too. There was
a dangerous possibility that she might be followed home
from work.
Miss Sloan had agreed that it could happen, so Susan
felt a little more secure driving home in the late
afternoon and early evening hours. Even so, she had
gotten into the habit of checking her rear-view mirror
constantly and taking roundabout routes home. Actually,
it was just a short drive up Wilshire Boulevard from
the studio to their apartment near the University.
She found that Ron had already gone off to the library
for the evening. The remains of his fast soup and
sandwich dinner were on the kitchen table. An
unreasonable annoyance overwhelmed her. Linda had asked
her to take one extra client, this afternoon, and it
had made her more than an half-hour late. Ron's fixing
his own meal and leaving before she arrived home made
her feel lonely and more than a little chagrined that
she couldn't be there to do the wifely thing.
Lately, it seemed, they were seeing less and less of
each other... and it had been four nights, now... since
Ron had made love to her. That bothered her. Ron was
only twenty-five... almost twenty-six years old, and he
didn't seem to have the sex drive that went along with
his youth. He told her it was just temporary. His
exacting research work was draining him of all his
energies.
It's got to be tonight! She told herself over and over
that it had to be so, hoping against hope that Ron
wouldn't plead exhaustion, again, God, I couldn't stand
to wait another night!
A startling thought raced into her brain like a
bombshell: Could Ron be... seeing another woman? It
might be a reason for his tiredness... and lack of
interest in me! She rejected the preposterous idea
almost instantly. No! That couldn't be it! Ron and I
are really in love with each other... and he wouldn't
do that... any more than I would! God! I can't imagine
having another man doing things to me!
She ached for him. All those lewd poses during the
afternoon had been working in her, feeding on her mind
and body. Her breasts and nipples tingled from exciting
them to erection, and at least three of her clients had
wanted to take close-ups of her loins, insisting that
she expose her genitals completely. It's a disgusting
way to make a living for us... but the job pays more
than any other I could get!
Quickly, she prepared her own evening meal, just a
snack since she dared not put on any extra weight. She
counted her calorie intake carefully, ever since she
had been working at The Camera's Eye. Linda Sloan had
made it clear that she didn't want any sloppy,
overweight women working for her. It made sense, too.
If anything, Susan's figure was even more alluring than
it was before she became one of Linda's Rent-a-models.
After she had eaten, done the necessary household
chores, she decided to shampoo her hair. Afterward,
having dried her long, golden-blonde hair, she brushed
it until it shone like burnished gold; then as time
dragged, waiting for her husband to come home, she
showered and put on a filmy nightgown. Propped up in
bed with a popular novel, she read to pass away the
time.
The book was explicitly frank about sex, as many novels
are these days, and she found herself reading the same
words she heard each day at work. She, herself, never
used those words; however, she recognized that there
was little she could do to avoid hearing them. I wish
Ron wasn't so vulgar... sometimes! But then, she
supposed most men were like that, and she'd just have
to put up with it. She had already been through the
stage of being shocked by them; now, she just tolerated
that vocabulary.
It was a quarter past ten when Ron came home. He found
his wife already in bed, and he dutifully and somewhat
wearily gave her a quick peck of a kiss, disappearing
quickly into the bathroom after a grunted, "Hi,
darling."
Instinctively, Susan knew his mood, his bone-tired
look, and she was sure that there was no hope for the
sexual congress she wanted... and needed. But, there's
got to be some way I can get him interested enough
to... do it to me... tonight! He didn't even notice
me... see that I had on my nicest nightgown. She looked
down to assure herself that the contours of her lovely
breasts were barely hidden by the bodice of the filmy,
see-through garment.
The irony of the situation wasn't entirely wasted on
her, as she ruefully thought about the several strange
men, who had viewed her naked body, their emotions
charged with an unattainable desire for her, while she
had posed for them, today, yet her own husband had
barely given her a second glance. She couldn't find it
in her to laugh. It was too tragic, and she was
desperate. What can I do? Would she have to seduce her
own husband? Maybe that's it! I've got to make him want
me... even if he thinks he's too tired to do it!
She had never been that forward. It had always been
enough for her to be there, in bed, clean, perfumed...
waiting; now, things had changed. Maybe she could
change, too! Her mind raced planning what she would
do... would have to do, if she were to get the
tenderness of his kisses and the hardness of his penis
filling her. God! I'll have to do it!
Tossing back the sheet, Susan pulled her nightgown up
so that the hem was barely covering her loins,
revealing the most of her softly tapered thighs; then,
she arranged the front of it to reveal the deep cleft
of the valley between her full-orbed breasts. She'd be
ready for him, looking her most desirable, when he had
finished his shower.
Abruptly, she heard the sound of the water stop, and
she knew it would be only a few moments until Ron would
be coming to bed. Her heart pounded with the excitement
of what she was planning to do... if he didn't show a
proper interest in her.
Glowing deep in her belly, she felt the banked fires of
her desire begin to flame into searing life, and above
her breasts tingled as her nipples grew to erect
vibrancy. I'm getting hot... just thinking about it!
Unconsciously, her tiny, cool hands cupped the pliant
flesh of her mounding breasts, her palms feeling the
hard buds of her nipples spiking out into them.
Ron came out of the bathroom, his longish, brown hair
tousled and damp. He was dressed in his pajamas, and
wordlessly, he looked at his wife, lying uncovered, her
nightgown pulled up seductively... invitingly, her
hands still cupping her own breasts. His eyes were
bleary from long hours of reading, and he was exhausted
physically. He knew that the display of her legs and
breasts were intended for him... But God! A man's got
to feel like it... before he can really do anything! He
switched off the light.
He could still see her in the glow of the bedside lamp,
her eyes deep pools of troubled blue, "Ron... aren't
you even a little bit interested... tonight?" she
murmured.
"I'm pretty damned tired, darling," he told her.
"Could you get interested... if I helped?"
"Hell! If I can't get it up... there's not much action,
and the way I feel right now... I couldn't even get
interested in Raquel Welch!" He padded toward the bed
and sat down on his side, reaching for a cigarette to
light.
"Ron darling, I just want you to... to be interested in
me, right now, tonight!"
Steadfastly, he refused to look at her as he sucked
smoke into his lungs and exhaled. "Why don't you just
go to sleep and forget about it, tonight..." he
suggested, then promised, "maybe tomorrow night! I've
got a lighter schedule, tomorrow, and I'll feel more
rested."
With a boldness born of her desperate need, Susan
scrambled felinely to her knees and whipped her
nightgown off over her head. Tossing the wisp of a
garment carelessly aside, she knee-walked across the
bed, her arms going around Ron's shoulders. "Oh Ron, I
can't wait!" she cried shamelessly, nuzzling into the
back of his neck. "Don't you understand?"
"And, don't you understand? I'm tired and I want to get
some sleep!" He tried to remove her arms, but now she
was slipping her hand inside his pajama tops and
running her palm down over the hairiness of his chest.
He stayed her hand with his own, growling, "Stop it,
Susan! It's no use!"
He stood to his feet, breaking her embrace, and as he
turned, saw that she was completely naked.
Blushing from his rebuff, but determined that he would
be aroused, she said, "Ron darling, I've never had to
ask you... before, but I am now... Will you... make
love to me... please?" It shamed her to ask him... but
she had to do it.
Her husband picked up her filmy nightgown and handed it
to her wordlessly, a feeling of shame at his own
temporary inadequacy flooding through him. God damn it!
I can't help it! For the last three nights I've
tried... but my cock just lies there limp!
Taken aback with surprise and disappointment, Susan
took her nightgown from him. "Do you mean you won't
even try to do it?" she asked, holding back scalding
tears.
His eyes swept over all of the loveliness of her, and
he knew he should feel something for her. Ordinarily,
before the last several weeks of harder, more exacting
work, his penis would have been at full erection,
standing jackstaff straight and hard... But, now he was
only aware of a deep exhaustion that seemed to drain
him.
"No, darling," he murmured. "It's no use... I can't do
anything!" It was a hard confession to make. He lay
down on his side of the bed and rolled to his side,
facing away from her. "Let's try to get some sleep...
okay?"
Susan told herself that she wouldn't cry. There has to
be a way! Oh, God! I've just got to.. have it, tonight!
She lay down beside him, curling her body in close to
his, spoon-fashion, trying to understand what it must
be like... to be a man, dependent upon sexual
performance or non-performance by the presence or
absence of an erection. He must feel horrible about it!
"I love you, darling," she whispered into his ear, as
her hand slid up over his hip and down into the
waistband of his pajamas. She had never been this bold
before, but of course, she had never had to be. Her
tiny, hand rummaged for a moment or two in the
hairiness of his abdomen before moving on down to grasp
the limp length of his penis. With gentle sensuousness
she caressed it, working the foreskin back and her
fingers rubbing the cool head of it all around.
"Sue honey," she heard him choke, "give it up... and go
to sleep!"
Nothing was happening. His penis lay soft in her
hand... and at this point she didn't have enough
sophisticated knowledge about sex to know that... if
she used the right technique, her husband's cock would
have been standing at erect attention within moments...
regardless of his pleadings of fatigue.
She was just on the verge of giving up, when an idea
floated into her mind. That's it! Why didn't I think of
it before!
Quickly, she was on her knees again and she was tugging
at him, forcing her husband to turn over on his back.
"Ron, Ron," she urged. "Look at me! I want to show you
some of the crazy, sexy things that a lot of the men
are asking me to do... so they can take pictures of me
doing them."
He was on his back then, struggling to sit up. "I
thought you were just posing nude... not making with
obscenity... and porn!"
"Do you really think those lecherous old men... just
take art pictures?" she countered.
A sudden jealousy seized him. Damn! Is there anything
else going on? He was sitting up now, gripping her by
the shoulders and feeling the soft, satiny flesh cringe
under his fingers. "What else are you doing down there?
I thought they couldn't touch you?" Secretly, she was
overjoyed; at least, her husband was jealous.
And, maybe that's a good sign!
"Then, what the hell are you talking about?"
"The sexy things... they've been asking me to do!"
"So?"
"I thought you'd like to know..." She made her voice
low and throaty.
"You know damned well I do!" Ron growled, his quick
anger beginning to subside somewhat as the flashing
idea that his wife might have been going the whole way
toward posing for hard-core pornography... with a man
was dispelled. Then, he added, "Like what?"
"Let me go and I'll show you. You do want me to show
you, don't you, darling?"
Releasing her, her husband leaned back against the
headboard. "Yeah, I'd like to see it, because I'm
thinking maybe you shouldn't be working in a joint like
that!"
"It's not a joint, Ron! You can't compare it to a
topless- bottomless beer bar. Those are real joints!"
she defended.
"I suppose," he agreed, "but let's get on with it,
now!" His curiosity was piqued. He had to know what had
been going on in those little, individual and intimate
studios at The Camera's Eye.
A pounding excitement made her a little nervous, but
she was determined to carry out her little stratagem.
She'd do almost anything, now, to arouse her husband,
because there was a roaring inferno of desire consuming
her loins. She had to get him ready!
"Well?" he urged.
"One thing they like for me to do is... wet my lips and
let my tongue stick out a little with my mouth open...
and pretend that I'm cumming..." She did it,
illustrating the pose.
"That's not so bad."
Then, I put saliva on my nipples and roll them between
my fingers... like this!" It wasn't necessary as her
nipples already coned out into erect sensitiveness.
"They like me to cup my breasts in my hands and point
them right at the camera, too."
Her hands caressed the soft fullness of her breasts,
offering them to her husband. "There's one thing about
it, though. All these things really do make me all hot
and..."
"I should think they would," Ron agreed, as his eyes
watched his wife's tiny hands massaging the pliant
flesh of her own breasts. Suddenly, he felt it. There
was a crawling, lifting sensation down there between
his legs as his scrotum tightened, and a growing
sensation of a tentative erection caused his penis to
bulge up against the material of his pajamas. It
surprised him. I'll be damned! My cock's getting hard!
Unconsciously, his hand went down to it and covered it.
Susan saw the involuntary lurch of his penis inside his
pajama bottoms and his hand go down to it caressingly.
Then, she knew that there was hope for her... for
tonight.
She was going on now, explaining, "And, that's why I'm
being this way... begging you... doing all these crazy
things, so you'll... want to make love to me!"
"I didn't know darling," he stumbled. "B-but I'm...
really pretty tired..."
He's trying to deny that he's working up some interest.
I saw it... starting to get hard! She knew then that
she'd have to go ahead with more of her lewd display.
"Don't I do anything... for you?" she queried dismally.
"Well," he hedged. "Not really... yet."
"And, here's one of the things those old men really
like!" Susan breathed.
She lay back, propping herself on her elbows, as she
spread her legs wide to expose the whole of her
luscious, coral-hued furrow to his surprised and
rapidly hungering gaze. Her hands slid down over her
hips to either side of her vaginal opening, and with
sensuous fingers slowly parted the cuntal lips, edged
sparsely with the curling golden down of her pubic
hair. "And, then," she continued breathlessly, "while
they come in to get a close-up... they like for me to
rub my clitoris... until it's all throbbing and hard...
like this..."
Sensuously, her fingers rubbed and caressed the
hardened bud of her clitoris, making it swell pulsingly
even more as Ron's eyes locked onto the lewd spectacle
of his lovely wife fingering herself to arousal.
"Damn!" he gasped. "You'll have to quit!"
"I can't darling... We need the money... remember?"
"But... this is obscene!"
"It gets them all hot, too!" she murmured. "I can see
the bulges in their pants that they try to hide from
me... just like you're doing right now!
Then, cat-like, his wife was back up on her knees, and
she was tugging at the waistband of his pajamas,
pulling them down to expose the rapidly hardening shaft
of his massive cock.
Ron didn't object; he helped her to get them off, then
quickly removed his tops, as she pulled his bottoms
down over his hairy legs.
Before he could make a move toward her, her lithe,
vibrantly aroused body was on top of him, her legs
spreading then clamping together again, as she trapped
the hard shaft of his prick between her thighs and
forced it to lie log-like in the moist furrow of her
heated cunt.
"There!" she exulted. "I knew you really weren't too
tired!"
Her lips came down to his, moist and open, wanting his
kiss.
Her husband's strong arms went around her, crushing her
to his chest and mashing the soft orbs of her breasts,
as his tongue lashed into her mouth to probe and taste.
"God!" she heard him murmur into her mouth, as his hips
flexed upward against her.
Susan couldn't wait any longer. She was too ready...
too far gone, and she had waited far too long, already.
Writhing from his arms, she straddled his hips, her
tiny hand going down to grasp the thick length of his
cock's shaft, and with unerring accuracy guided it to
the moist warmth of her hungry cuntal mouth.
Then, eyes already glazing with her built-up passion,
she dropped her weight down on him, taking all of her
husband's more than adequate cock deep within her
vaginal sheath in one movement, his rock-hard cock-
flesh ramming up into her vaginal passage to fill her
completely and stretching her voracious opening cruelly
with the force of her urgent absorption of him. She
felt the blood-engorged head of his prick flick
painfully past the neck of her womb, and she groaned
aloud. "OOooooohhh!"
"AAaaauggh!" Ron yelped. "Take it easy!"
The unexpected pain she had caused him was replaced
almost immediately with a burning desire for her, a
desire he had thought impossible just moments before,
when his fatigue had ousted all thoughts of sexual
pleasure from his mind. Ron moaned aloud again, as he
flexed his hips upward against her to drive the pulsing
shaft of his cock farther up into her clinging cuntal
sheath, feeling the silky softness of her moist passage
and reveling in the feel of her as her pussy enveloped
him with throbbing, searingly hot flesh, while above
him, poised on hands and knees her body began to squirm
and writhe uncontrollably.
"Oh, God... Ron, darling! It feels soooooo good... so
hard and nice... up inside me!" she cooed, her voice
choking throatily.
A strange wildness was in her then, as she began to
move above him with an uninhibited abandon so unlike
her usual self, her hips rotating around and around,
while at the same time she rocked back against him to
drive her demanding cunt up and down the rock-hardness
of her husband's cock, absorbing all of his length and
breadth deep up into the velvety softness of her with
each plunging stroke.
The reversal of roles didn't bother her. She was much
too interested in driving herself toward her already
imminent orgasm. The freedom to move, to determine her
own tempo, to fuck herself back against her husband's
massive cock was an exhilarating feeling. It was almost
as though she were raping him... if such is possible
for a woman to do, for she was single-minded in what
she was doing. She had to cum and soon! Oh, God! The
waiting is Over! Thank God! "Oh, Ron, darling, I love
you!" she moaned.
Like a bareback rider riding a bucking horse at a
rodeo, Susan rode and fucked her husband her naked
buttocks writhing and pounding against him, rising and
falling undulantly, her breasts dancing rhythmically
down against the hairiness of his chest, the nipples
spiking into his flesh and her soft belly rubbing
against his abdominal and pubic hair, as she leaned
forward and down to take even more of him deeply up
into her hotly absorbing cunt.
Her assault had been so fast and furious that Ron could
only hold himself rigid, now, allowing her to move on
him, fucking him... fucking herself, as her moist,
heated cuntal passage slid up and down his hardened,
throbbing cock, completely out of control.
He couldn't match her wild beat, so he merely raised
his hips higher, offering her all of his length for her
pleasure... and his! Christ! She's fucking... like a
mink! Somehow, he couldn't object to it... even though
he was in a completely unaccustomed position, on the
bottom. Hell! The way she's going after it... I'll be
cumming, in just a little while, too! The wild,
uncontrolled pumping of her hips told him that his wife
was almost ready to cum.
With her breath rasping pantingly in her lungs, Susan
rode her mount down a wild trail of sensation-packed
wonderment, until suddenly, she knew that the trail had
to end... in her climax. Her ecstatic rapture knew no
bounds as she spurred greedily toward that moment of
pure joy that had been withheld from her for so many
nights.
Ron Merrill, beneath his wife, had finally found the
countering rhythm of her headlong ride on his stiffened
cock and rose to meet her churning loins down against
him with forceful, upward thrusts of his own. Deep into
her belly he drove his massively hardened cock, burying
it farther up inside her clasping cunt than he had ever
before, as she spread her knees wide on either side of
his hips to absorb all of it to the last smallest
fraction of an inch.
Suddenly, lightnings were flashing in her brain as the
whole of her pent-up being was brought quiveringly to
the brink of her release. Volcanic eruptions were there
in her belly waiting to be exploded, shooting forth its
molten metal to every part of her salaciously aroused
body... but she couldn't cum yet.
"Oh, My God! I'm almost ready to cum!"
"Come on, darling! Cum! Cum! CUM!" Ron encouraged,
plunging upward into the moist smoothness of her
demanding cuntal sheath.
"I can't... cum... yet! Oh, God! I can't cum!" she
whined.
Then, with a desperate, final cunt-ramming motion, she
forced his hard shaft deep, deep up into her. She felt
it painfully nudging into the far back wall of her
vagina... and she was there! God! She came!
"AAAGGGHHH!!" she screamed. "I'M CUMMINGGGG! NOW! OHGOD
OHGOD!!" Eyes rolling sightlessly and uncontrollably,
her face distorted with the intensity of her rapturous
release, Susan folded at the hips and collapsed on top
of her husband, spent both physically and emotionally.
"Oh, OOOooohhh, that was beautiful, darling," she
mumbled. "Just out of this world!"
But Ron, now, was fully aroused, and he hadn't cum with
her. It was his turn now! Several times he thrust up at
her, but it wouldn't work. He could feel the clasping
of her cunt's walls around the shaft of his aching
cock; her dead weight and unmoving body wouldn't allow
of a satisfactory copulation for him. "Christ! I've got
to cum!" he grated.
Clasping her tightly to him, he rolled over until she
was supine, her relaxed body lying under him. As he
looked down at her, he saw that her eyes were closed,
her face serene and happy.
Then, levering himself up over her on sturdy arms, his
throbbing cock still in her, he began to fuck in and
out of her moist, silky vaginal tunnel. Her legs
flopped down flat on the bed, making an awkward angle
for his slamming prick.
He had to have her in a better position. Reaching down,
as he leaned back, he pulled her legs up by the knees,
then as he moved forward, over her again, he draped
them up over his shoulders. That's better!
Pressing her thighs back, until they were mashing down
tight against her full-mounded breasts, Ron began
pistoning in and out of her with a feral wildness he
never could have imagined having just a few short
minutes ago.
Susan's eyes opened and she looked up into her
husband's lustful face, his eyes blazing with his
desire as he pounded in and out of her.
Then, she felt it; the unmistakable feeling of new
arousal flooded through her. God! Could I cum... again?
Yes! She could! She knew she could!
And, then, her arousal was complete, again. Her hips
gyrated beneath her husband's jack hammering cock as
delicious sensations flooded through her for the second
time within moments.
Ron felt it begin for him. The searing burn of his
pent-up sperm, as it beat against its fleshy dam,
somewhere back there at the root of his cock, told him
that he was going to cum... soon. He redoubled his
cunt-plumbing efforts, plunging deep into his wife's
pussy like a maniac... and suddenly, he was spewing his
semen through the length of his prick to spurt from its
slitted tip deep up inside the warm moistness of her
vaginal passage. He grunted with animal satisfaction
and sprawled on top of her, enjoying completely the
feeling of ultimate joy in his spurting cock.
"AAAaaaagggh!"
But, his wife, Susan, straining under him to cum for a
second time was dismayed, as he collapsed on top of
her, pinning her to the mattress. Desperately, she
ground her vibrantly trembling cunt up at his softening
cock, moaning with her apprehension. Oh, God! I've got
to... cum... again!
With almost superhuman strength, then, she thrust her
loins up at him... and she came!
"AAAAAaaaaauuuuugggghhh!"
In the silence afterward there was only the sound of
labored breathing, until Susan stirred beneath her
husband and murmured in wonder, "I came... twice,
darling! I came two times in a row!"
"Yeah," he whispered. "You practically exploded!"
"I was really hot... all afternoon!"
"Because of those crazy poses?"
"Yes, that's what I was trying to tell you...
remember?"
"We'll have to do something about that."
"What do you suggest, short of my quitting the job?"
"Well Honey, it looks like I'm going to be getting a
work-out pretty often doesn't it?"
"Yes, if you're going to keep me satisfied!"
"I'll have to get more rest then..."
He rolled to his side and looked at her profile. Damn!
I'll have to do something different!
"Maybe you could ease up... maybe drop one of your
courses..." Susan suggested.
"Yeah... maybe that's what I'll have to do. I'll talk
to the Graduate Dean tomorrow!" His eyes closed
serenely, the fatigue and his deep satisfaction
claiming him in blessed sleep.
Happily, Susan watched him. She was overjoyed that they
had been able to work it out so easily. God! It would
have been so easy for me... to do something crazy...
like accepting one of those old men's lewd
propositions!
Chapter 4
Ron Merrill left the Graduate Dean's office feeling a
sharp disappointment. The portly Dean, his hands folded
serenely over his ample paunch, had steadfastly refused
to allow Ron to drop even one of his grueling courses.
"After all, Mr. Merrill, the requirements have been
laid down, and any deviation from your planned work may
delay you for an entire academic year."
"But, it's important to me," Ron argued. "I just don't
have enough time for myself."
"Ah, yes, but I suppose that's one of the sacrifices
one must make." It was meaningless platitude.
"It could cost my marriage!" Ron blurted.
"Hmmm, I see," the Dean polished his glasses before
going on, "Well, of course, marriage counseling is a
little out of my line... but I'm sure that any
reasonable woman would make the adjustments... and..."
"We don't need a marriage counselor... just some time
that I can call my own!" Ron told him levelly. "That's
why I want to drop a couple of courses, so I can spend
a little more time with Susan!"
"I'm sure you understand the consequences if you don't
follow the outlined course study. None of your courses
can be waived, and I might point out that dropping
courses could very well result in your dropping out of
the Doctoral program altogether. That could be
disastrous for your future... and I might add that I
feel you do have a brilliant academic future ahead of
you. I would hate to see that future destroyed for
you!"
"But what about right now?"
"Well, Mr. Merrill, in the long run, the decision must
be yours. I could very well sign your petition for
release from those courses, but I would feel strongly
about it. I would recommend that you continue, just as
you are!"
There was no shaking the man from his position, and Ron
didn't want to jeopardize his attainment of his Doctor
of Philosophy degree. He had no choice but to keep up
the grind... perhaps ease off a little, but there were
still those exacting, time-consuming courses that he
had to have completed by the end of the school year.
Hell! The damned University is nothing but a factory...
and people like me are its product... coming out all
polished and ready for jobs that might not even exist
by the time I get that damned degree!
He wondered whether it was worthwhile, as he reviewed
the situation in his mind. His conclusion was in favor
of getting the Doctorate, now. If I do have to drop
out... I may never be able to get back to it, again!...
And, Susan and I will just have to work something out!
She's right, of course... that she couldn't make as
much money anywhere else as she does at that Rent-a-
model studio! We'll find some solution to the problem!
* * *
Ron's disappointment at not being able to reduce the
grueling pace of his studies, if he were to attain his
degree according to schedule was nothing compared to
the horns of the emotional dilemma upon which Susan
struggled.
"Don't you understand, darling," Ron tried to explain,
"if I drop those courses, it'll extend everything for
at least another year?"
Susan shared her husband's ambition. That's why she was
so willing to help him... but if she were to help by
continuing her lewd posing at The Camera's Eye, there
would always be the problem of her heightened sexual
needs that Ron wouldn't be able to satisfy because of
lack of time and drained energies. It was also certain
that Ron couldn't remain in school if she didn't work
at something. Clerking in a library certainly wouldn't
make enough to support them. They both knew that, so
Susan would have to keep working as a Rent-a-model. The
problem just seemed to go in circles, always coming
back to the same things, over and over.
"Okay Ron, I understand and I'll try not to be too
demanding." Oh, it's so mixed up... so different from
when we were first married... and he scared me half to
death... wanting to do it all the time! I was sure then
that he was some kind of a sex maniac! Now, I'm the one
who's worked up all the time... and can't get enough of
it! She wished that there was something else that she
could do, that she had some other marketable skill she
could exploit, such as being a secretary or sales
clerk, but it was useless even to think about it. Her
typing was horrible. She didn't know shorthand or
filing, and she was terrified of selling things to
people in a store.
Then, a few nights later it happened. Susan discovered
a partial answer. Ron had arrived home dead tired, as
usual. He tumbled into bed and slept so soundly that
she knew she would never be able to awaken him.
Disconsolately, she began her own preparations for bed,
her body crying for a sexual release. No matter how
hard she tried to ignore what the voyeuristic men
wielding cameras in the studio said or asked her to do,
there was still that sexiness there. It was in their
eyes, the things they said and in the bulging erection
in their pants. She trod a dangerous line, knowing that
one slip, like giving one of them her address or
telephone number, could result in something she didn't
want... an affair with another man. Yet, how easy it
would have been. She avoided the temptation like the
plague. God! I couldn't do that! I just couldn't!
She was in the shower soaping herself, her hands
running in unconscious sensuousness over her body,
cupping and massaging her sensitive, tingling breasts,
the nipples coming up hard in the palms of her hands
and the glowing sensations seeming to spread and
permeate her whole body to concentrate themselves in
her loins.. And there's nothing I can do!
Or was there?
Today, the next to the last man, who had posed hers
took out of his attaché case a carefully wrapped
object. "Do you know what's in here, Susan?" he asked,
his eyes glowing with salacious desire for her.
"No... not really," she had answered offhandedly.
"Look!" the middle-aged voyeur gloated, as he quickly
unwrapped a huge, rubber dildo, looking closely at her
to see her reaction to it.
"Oh!" she gasped involuntarily, her eyes widening.
"Do you know what this is?"
"Yes! It's a dildo and I'm not having any part of it!"
It was the second time she had been confronted by a man
wielding one of those things in his hand and wanting
her to use it on herself. The last time, she had gone
along with it, barely entering the head of the rubber
penis into her vagina, but she had made up her mind=8B
regardless of what the consequences might be with Miss
Sloan=8Bthat she wouldn't ever do that again.
"But, I thought you were supposed to pose any way I
want you to?"
"That's right! Anything but that!"
"Okay! I'll just have to ask for some other girl who
will, then!" he exploded.
Susan knew that she couldn't afford a complaint from
him; it could mean the loss of her job. "All right,"
she conceded, "I'll pose with it... anyway you want me
to, except actually putting it in... okay?"
He had been mollified by her compromise, and the
somewhat chubby, graying client had taken several
pictures with her holding it in position against the
mouth of her vagina... even one shot of her kissing the
head of that monstrous penis substitute. At least, he
hadn't registered a complaint by asking for another
model, and he had suggested that he'd probably be back,
again, asking for her.
Then, as she went on showering, her hands now running
down over her hips and finally between her thighs, as
she soaped and cleaned herself, her fingers caressed
unconsciously the hardening bud of her clitoris. She
gasped with the pleasurable sensations her fingers
brought her and she remembered that enormous rubber
penis she had held in her hands, the idea suddenly
ricocheting around inside her skull that maybe... just
maybe... something like that would help her to gain
the sexual satisfaction she needed. But God, it's so
cold-blooded... just a kind of... of self abuse!
If she had had that dildo in her hands right then,
though, she probably would have used it... because she
found it so difficult to tear her hands away from her
own genitals. Standing back away from the shower, she
allowed the water to stream down onto her abdomen to
rinse away the soap, her hand returning, again, to the
short, hard bud at the top of her furrowed cunt.
Before she knew what was happening to her, and could
stop herself from doing it, she had reached an ecstatic
level of sexual arousal, so far gone that there was
only one thing she could do. With long, smooth strokes,
her finger began to slide up and down along the right
side of her clitoris, in a regular tempo, as she began
to masturbate, knowing instinctively what she must
do... even though she had never done it before to
completion. My God! What am I doing... to myself? She
knew... really, but she couldn't stop. Nothing, at that
point, could have made her stop it.
OOoooh! I've got to have something... more! The
something more she needed was a pounding cock in her
cunt, but that was impossible. Ron was completely
exhausted. Anyway, it was too late. Then, she slid her
hand on down farther, a finger slipping into the moist
warmth of her cunt's mouth. It felt so small and
insignificant.
She inserted a second finger, and the increased breadth
of both fingers felt better, began to give her a sense
of well-being; however, she needed the extra sensations
her clitoris provided. Then, again, almost
instinctively, she used her thumb, letting it slide up
and down the quivering, length of her sensitive sex
bud, while at the same time a third tiny finger joined
the other two in the sheath of her vagina.
A sudden revealing to her of why some women would stoop
to use one of those horrible-looking dildos, was like a
breath of fresh air to her troubled mind. God! Now, I
know... and if I had something right now... I'd
probably use it! For she knew then that she would
masturbate herself to climax.
Faster and faster, her hand worked, as she finger-
fucked herself, knowing only that the ecstatic rapture
she was feeling would bring her the release from built
up tension... sexual tension of such intensity, that it
could not be sublimated.
In her imagination, she felt herself lying under her
husband, while his hard length plunged in and out of
her soft, trembling cuntal sheath. It helped to imagine
it that way. Somehow, it helped her to feel less guilty
about it. Masturbation, she remembered being told when
she was quite small was bad for you; although, it had
never been explained just how it was supposed to be
harmful.
It would take a while for her to get over that idea,
but for now, there was guilt in her. She'd have to live
with it... until when she was more enlightened, she
would realize that it's really quite normal and natural
for both men and women.
And, then, in spite of guilt, the pleasure of what she
was doing overwhelmed her, and she gave herself over to
that joy completely, her hand moving faster, her
fingers plunging deeper into the mouth of her cunt,
until suddenly, her orgasm burst upon her convulsively.
She moaned to herself, afraid to cry out with the
ecstasy she felt for fear that she might awaken her
husband.
OOOoooh! Oh!
It was a complete orgasm, leaving her satisfied
physically; although mentally she was distraught, a
rising disgust in her with what she had done spoiled it
for her. She would never tell Ron about it, but if she
had to do it to herself, again, she would make sure
that her husband couldn't possibly find out... suspect
her of it. Susan wasn't sure what his reaction would
be... but she remembered his remarking one time that
almost every man, especially as young teen-agers,
masturbated... But, I'd just die... if he found out!
Somehow, she equated it with a kind of infidelity.
* * *
"Isn't there some way the rules could be changed just a
little bit so that we wouldn't have to do those sexy
things those old men want us to do?" Susan asked.
She was seated in Linda Sloan's private office, dressed
only in the light wrapper she wore between customers.
That same man, who had wanted her to pose with a dildo,
had returned, again. This time he had brought in a
special girdle constructed of shiny black leather,
along with a pair of long, matching gloves and boots;
then, when he had produced a leather whip from his
attaché case, Susan had been genuinely terrified. For
an instant, she had thought he had meant to use it on
her but instead he handed the horrible thing to her. It
was part of the bizarre costume he wanted her to put on
for him.
It was kinky, she knew, but again, she had gone along
with him, donning the fetishistic clothing and allowing
him to take pictures of her; however, when he begged
her to use the whip on him, she balked.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 48