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The Reluctant Neighbor
by Anonymous Author (address withheld)
First published by TheEditor

***

"No!" she had cried out to the void, the space of the 
bedroom. "Please. No!" But it had been useless. He had 
managed to undress her and himself almost without her 
knowledge. Suddenly she had been stripped naked and was 
lying on the bed by herself, and he was up, throwing 
his clothes desperately over the chair. (Mdom+/FF, d/s, 
mc, bi, reluc)

***

Chapter 1

Marily lay back on the rumpled bed as though she were a 
broken rag doll. Her legs were spread obscenely apart, 
one knee slightly bent, her breast jutting out from her 
chest, and one arm limp across her sperm-filled 
stomach. She was watching her next door neighbor, the 
man who had just raped her putting his clothes on. 

She looked at him from the depth of her dark brown 
eyes, keeping him in focus, not wanting to see what she 
was looking at, but staring, not missing one movement 
that he made. Masculine was the only word that came to 
her mind. It almost amused her that he would put on his 
shirt before he did his under-drawers, that his now 
limp penis hung down beyond the tails of his shorts. 
Her own husband would never dress in such a 
disorganized manner.

Peter buttoned his shirt carefully, then knotted his 
tie, then reached to the floor for his jock shorts. He 
glanced at the voluptuous young woman laying on the 
bed, sprawled, her thighs still open and wet, and 
wanted to go back to her, to burn and scald her as he 
had done moments before. But, he felt as though she 
were staring a hole through him, looking at him but 
seeing what he could only guess at. He put one leg then 
the other through the shorts, then pulled them up 
around his waist. 

He reached inside, adjusted his still half erect prick 
so that it rode where it should, then took up his 
trousers and put them on, buttoned the buttons, then 
cinched up his belt. He took his coat from the chair 
and rammed his arms through it, then sat on the same 
chair and put on his shoes and socks. Then he stood and 
faced her. "Look," he hesitated, talking down to her on 
the bed from his six feet two inch height, "You were 
good. And, I'll be back again. I know you enjoyed it 
even if I did have to force you a little at first."

He leaned slightly forward, wanting to shake the eerie 
feeling that she gave him, wishing that she would say 
one word, any word, so that he could be sure that she 
was hearing what he said. She didn't and her eyes 
remained as void as they had been when he began 
speaking. "I'll have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow. 
And just remember that I came here by your invitation. 
I don't think you'll tell old Fred anyway. And I don't 
think he'd care one way or the other. So, see you 
later." 

He turned from her, left the bedroom, walked down the 
hall, then went through the front door, banging it 
arrogantly shut behind him. Marily heard his tread on 
the hall floor, then the closing of the door, then 
silence. She found herself wishing he would have, at 
least, gone out the back way so the other neighbors 
wouldn't have seen him leaving... but, oh what the 
hell.

What did it all matter anyway? She lay as she was, 
wondering why she was so cold, so unrelated to what had 
happened, then was grateful for the pain that reminded 
her that she had been raped, used, like a whore by her 
neighbor, a neighbor she had just met. She forced 
herself to go over all the events that led up to that 
sudden happening one hour ago.

When, she wondered, had he first noticed her. In the 
garden? Through the window? Why hadn't he spoke to her 
before today, or at least to Fred? It didn't make 
sense. She didn't know him, except that his name was 
Peter Aiken and that his wife was a pathetic little 
thing, involved in community projects, held an office 
in the parent teacher association where their daughter 
attended school in the second grade, and puttered 
around the garden, occasionally holding long monologues 
with herself while talking to Marily, who knew that she 
wasn't supposed to listen, to answer, just be a form 
for the woman to talk at. But she never saw him, or 
only rarely, going from his car to the house or from 
his house to his car.

When had he noticed her?

Not that it really mattered, she told herself. He 
obviously had. Not only had he noticed her, but 
apparently he had been planning to use her as he had 
just done, for some time. Her thoughts went back to the 
morning, to the beginning of her day. She had tumbled 
from her bed when the alarm had made its first 
maddening sound, and looked over to Fred's bed. 

He had been snoring softly, curled into the ball shape 
that he preferred for sleeping, and then had gone to 
the bathroom, had shaken Fred awake ever so gently, 
then kissed him on the forehead, then had gone to the 
kitchen and started the coffee, made the orange juice, 
put on the bread and butter and toaster on the table, 
then had walked outside to smoke a cigarette. She 
grimaced with the thought of smoking in the garden. 

Fred did not smoke, could not stand the smell of smoke 
in the house. Maybe, her mind warned, she had been seen 
by Peter then, in the garden, early in the morning, 
blowing her lonely clouds of smoke. But, it had to be 
before today, she thought. He didn't seem the type to 
do things so suddenly without some kind of previous 
plan.

Then, what had she done. She tried to recall, her mind 
telling her that she had done what she had done every 
morning or what seemed like millions of years. She had 
gone back into the house as soon as she had finished 
her cigarette, knowing that Fred would be stepping out 
of the shower, then he would be in the kitchen within 
minutes. She had gone to the small bathroom and brushed 
her teeth and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash to get 
rid of the odor of cigarette smoke. Then she had 
returned to the table, took her place, put two pieces 
of toast in the toaster, and looked as Fred came 
through the door, dressed for work, ready for his 
breakfast.

With Fred gone she had cleared the table, put the few 
dishes in the dishwasher with the ones from the evening 
meal, set the dial to wash, then had gone to the garden 
again to smoke. Then she remembered. She had had a 
strange feeling in the garden, as though there were 
another presence there other than her own. Yes! 
Exactly! 

She could remember it now, the goose bumps on her 
flesh, the feeling that someone was watching her every 
moment, that behind a bush someone waited, breathed and 
watched her. But it had only been a fleeting emotion, 
she reminded herself. But, her mind said a significant 
one. Perhaps that was the first warning sign of the 
danger that was to burst upon her later. 

Later she had decided to work in the garden, to trim up 
a hedge, to cut a few branches off a rose bush, perhaps 
to rid herself of the unreasonable fear or fright that 
she had felt there. She did so. She had become so 
involved in her work that the time had slipped by, 
unheeded, until she grew warm. She covered her eyes 
with her hand and looked up at the sun. It was almost 
mid-way in the sky. She had laughed to herself. 

She had been in the garden much longer than she 
thought. She went into the kitchen, washed her hands, 
then made herself a sandwich and a glass of tea, put 
them on a tray and returned to the garden, she had been 
there only a moment when she had been interrupted by 
Peter Aiken's sudden presence. She had felt grateful 
for the interruption, she remembered. She had smiled at 
him, then ran a hand over her hair, thinking that she 
must be a mess since she hadn't looked in the mirror 
since just after getting out of bed.

"Hello. I'm Peter Aiken. From next door," he said, then 
paused, waiting for her recognition of him.

"Yes, I know. I'm Marily Spencer. I know your wife -- I 
mean, we have spoken together here, from one yard to 
the next." Marily had smiled, then waited for him to 
continue.

"I just came over to introduce myself actually. I came 
home for lunch, which I do occasionally, and found a 
note from my wife. She had to go to a meeting she had 
forgotten about. Anyway I saw you here and I 
thought..." He stopped talking, leaving the thought 
uncompleted so that it had to turn into an invitation 
from her.

"Please. Sit down. Would you like a sandwich? I haven't 
much to offer but..." Marily had said, turning sideways 
in her chair and watching his progress to a chair.

"No, you don't have to bother. I'm not really hungry, 
actually. I get tired of drinking lunch and so once in 
awhile I come home and eat." He smiled, revealing the 
most perfect white teeth she had seen in a long time.

"I'm afraid I can't offer you a drink. My husband, 
Fred, doesn't drink... so we don't keep it in the 
house." Marily finished lamely.

"I don't want a drink, thanks, but don't apologize. 
Somehow I knew that your husband didn't drink." His 
tone of voice had changed, a smugness creeping in that 
angered Marily.

"And how did you know that?" She had asked, not kindly.

"He looks too healthy, actually. He has that glowing, 
youthful flesh that one associates with non-drinkers." 
He laughed easily.

Marily had relaxed, had suddenly began to enjoy talking 
to him. She had had to admit to herself that he was a 
very handsome man, well-built and he seemed so sure of 
himself. And it was a pleasant break in her otherwise 
dull day.

"You don't have children?" He wanted to know. Marily 
felt that he probably knew the answer to that one, too. 
She had felt the impulse to tell him that Fred didn't 
want children now, maybe in a year or so, after he had 
fully adjusted to his marriage to her and his new job. 
But she didn't. She had merely said, "No. Not yet. 
We've only been married two years and... no. We don't 
have children."

"Habit is hard to break, I guess. I seem to be terribly 
thirsty. For water," he smiled, standing. Marily had 
not wanted him to leave. She had felt that he had no 
intention of it anyway, but he did stand and somehow 
gave the impression that he would... or that... what? 
She asked herself. It didn't matter.

It was then that she realized that the pain was 
lessening, that her vagina was still throbbing, but the 
pain had gone somewhat and the more pleasurable 
sensation she had known a few moments before was slowly 
returning. She straightened her legs, pressed them 
together and then continued to think over the day.

"I have water. Come in and I'll make you a sandwich and 
a glass of tea. One must eat, you know, to keep a 
healthy, youthful complexion like Fred." She had 
laughed at her own joke and preceded him into the 
house.

Once inside the door she had remembered how she must 
look and for some strange reason she wanted to look 
better for this almost complete stranger. She asked him 
to sit, then excused herself and had gone through the 
bedroom, to the bathroom, and run a comb through her 
hair, deftly washed her face, straightened her blouse 
and returned to the kitchen.

It was then that the whole sordid... sordid? Well, 
whatever kind of nightmare it had been, had begun.

Peter had stood up when she entered the kitchen, had 
moved toward her without a word and had taken her in 
his arms. Why had she been so willing? she wondered. 
Had she expected him to do that? Thinking back, she 
rationalized that she had not had one thought about it, 
one way or the other. It had simply happened and she 
had not objected, but she had not responded either... 
unless... the fact she had not screamed out and fought 
with all her strength against his lewd advances, could 
be considered a response.

She could feel his arms about her, much more powerful 
than those of Fred, much more sure of what he was doing 
and more knowledgeable about how to go about it. He had 
kissed her gently, his lips on hers, then his tongue 
had played about her lips, then over them and into her 
mouth. She had tried to push him away, but he had a 
firm hold on her. She relaxed, took his tongue in her 
mouth and felt a delicious sensation that Fred had 
never given her reverberating up and down her spine. 
Then her anger had spilled over, whether at her sudden 
submission to his probing tongue or at him she didn't 
know, and she had tried to push him away.

"Relax, baby. I know that husband of yours isn't enough 
for a little minx like you," he had whispered, directly 
into her ear, then slipped his mouth wetly down to her 
neck.

She had tried to break his hold on her, had not wanted 
to hear anything against Fred from this near stranger. 
She could not! But, he had lifted her as though she had 
no weight at all, and carried her into the bedroom. Why 
hadn't she cried out? she wondered, the answer to her 
question immediately there: Who would have heard her? 
No one! She had fought him with her fists, but it was 
no use. He had been too strong! Yes, that was it! That 
was the excuse she had been searching for: He was too 
strong!

He had placed her on the bed and then himself on top of 
her, had found her mouth with his before her full 
weight had sunk down into the mattress. He had almost 
suffocated her, his large tongue in her mouth, probing, 
his teeth biting and hurting her lips.

"No!" she had cried out to the void, the space of the 
bedroom. "Please. No!" But it had been useless. He had 
managed to undress her and himself almost without her 
knowledge. Suddenly she had been stripped naked and was 
lying on the bed by herself, and he was up, throwing 
his clothes desperately over the chair. 

She had tried to escape, to get off the bed, but he had 
leaped onto it, pinning her under him. He had put her 
arms over her head, had fought with his head to turn 
hers and put his mouth onto her again, then he had 
himself slightly, and twisting and turning his stomach, 
had touched her sensitive flesh with his hardness, 
which had felt like steel--hot metal--laying on her 
stomach. He had continued to kiss her, to bite her 
lips, then had removed his mouth from hers, and began 
to suck her breasts. She had struggled, but to no 
avail.

The hopelessness of her situation had overwhelmed her. 
There was no one to call to, no instrument at her 
command that she could use to protect herself with. She 
tried to get her arms free of his, hoping to scratch 
and tear his arrogant face, but he held her firmly, 
arms up over her head and teased her ripe, full 
breasts, stopping only long enough to say, "God-damned, 
what a pair you have!" then his mouth had become busy 
again, biting into her flesh, then sucking her nipples 
into hardness then back to her mouth. 

She couldn't remember when the excitement had hit, but 
laying now with the residing sensation in her vagina, 
she was sure it had been later even if the sensation of 
him kissing her had almost been pleasant, once she had 
adjusted her mind to the fact that it was really 
happening to her.

When his mouth had not covered hers she had pleaded, 
had implored him to stop. But her every word seemed 
only to spur him on. He had forced her legs apart with 
his muscular thighs and then shoved the head of his 
hardness into the softness between her open, 
defenseless legs, causing her to scream. He had 
immediately covered his mouth with hers, filled it with 
his tongue, then ground his hardened penis slowly into 
her resisting vagina. 

She felt as though he were killing her, as though he 
were pushing all the way through the center of her and 
impaling her with a spear to the mattress beneath her 
buttocks. Never had her own husband hurt that much, 
even on the night of their wedding, or any other night. 
But, then, never had she felt her husband so hard or 
excited by the feel of her body.

Peter had thrust himself inside her, all of him, 
splitting her and hurting her because she hadn't really 
been ready at that moment. The pain seared her insides 
and seemed to work outward to the top layer of her soft 
sensitive skin. She moaned, tried to move her hips back 
to rid herself of him, but it was hopeless. He shoved 
on into her, ground himself against her, against her 
words of pleading until suddenly she had felt the soft 
sacs of his testicles pressing hard against the 
sensitive hole of her anus.

Almost in a flash the pain had turned to pleasure for 
Marily. She had felt the hardness and roughness of him 
with every cell in her vagina, then there it was, the 
feeling that she had never had before, the desire that 
had never been opened up inside her, began begging for 
fulfillment. 

She knew now that he had sensed that, that where only a 
moment before she had been crying with pain, her legs 
had suddenly responded with a will of their own and had 
snaked desperately around his back, the small of it, 
and that they were pressing him into her. He released 
her hands and even though she had wanted to claw at his 
face only a few minutes before, she now wanted to, and 
did, use her hands behind his head to press it down 
onto her mouth and her neck...

With her response, Peter had slowly begun fucking in 
and out of her, causing to build within her the fires, 
the desperate need of fulfillment that she had never 
before experienced. She began to move with him to match 
her rhythm to his, without wanting to, hating herself 
for her weakness, hating him because he was raping her, 
causing her to be unfaithful, against her will, until a 
dam broke within her and she tightened her hold on him, 
pulled him to her with all her might. And she had 
broken her silence.

"Ooooh God!" she remembered murmuring with disbelief up 
into his open mouth. "I-It's so deep inside me."

He had hooked her legs in his arms and had bent them 
back so far that her knees were even with her breasts, 
then moved his cock out of her vagina, almost all the 
way, with only the head of it inside the soft, clasping 
lips, then plunged back, causing her to gasp with the 
force of his passion, the pleasurable pain of him 
sending fire all through her body. 

He had plunged, ground against her, kissing and biting 
with his mouth, until she felt that she could no longer 
stand it, until she began to expand inside, to break 
and spill over with the greatest passion that she had 
ever known. She had clung to him, pressing her body to 
his, rising off the bed when he moved out of her, had 
caught him deep inside her cunt and waves of fire and 
relief had broken deep within her, then, exhausted, 
amazed at herself and the secrets that this total 
stranger had opened within her, lay unmoving but open 
wide for him while he increased his jabbing and 
plunging. 

He had moved faster and faster, his breath had come in 
gasps, then with a long and low moan he had ground 
within her, spewed his hot wetness inside her, then 
with piston-like movements had emptied all the 
remainder of his hot, white sperm deep down into the 
hidden recess of her satiated belly. Then dropped on 
top of her, his cock still in her, throbbing out the 
last dying sensations of his orgasm against the smooth, 
flooded walls of her vagina.

His prick had started to soften, then had been 
withdrawn from her leaving a thin trail of their warm 
secretions lying wetly across her thigh. He had rolled 
off her, then lay alongside her and tried to put his 
arm over her. Why, she didn't remember but she had 
knocked it away in a too late gesture of defiance. She 
had been fucked, and fucked good right in her own 
husband's bed, so why hadn't she just admitted it to 
herself instead of trying to soothe her conscience with 
a hypocritical act like that. He had taken a deep 
breath, then got off the bed and began dressing. 
"Look," he had said and she hadn't really listened to 
the rest.

Marily didn't know how long she had been laying as he 
had left her, nude, on the bed. She heard the front 
door open. She knew it was Fred, home from his day's 
work. She did not move except to pull a sheet over her 
nakedness knowing instinctively that he wouldn't 
approve of her like this.

"Marily?" Fred called, faintly, from the interior of 
the house. She did not answer. She hadn't thought of 
him since that morning, not at all since the rape upon 
her body. She couldn't think of anything to say to him 
now, even to answer his summons, so she said nothing. 
Shortly he entered the bedroom, looked at her on the 
bed, then, "Are you all right? Didn't you hear me call 
you?" Her answer was simple: "Yes."

He removed his hat, brushed it off on his coat sleeve, 
went to the closet, slid the door open, put his hat on 
the shelf from the exact position he had taken it from 
that morning, removed a hanger from the closet for his 
coat, then removed his coat, arranged it on the hanger, 
then brushed it before putting it in the closet. He 
then removed his shirt, folded it neatly, and put it in 
the dirty clothes hamper in the hall. 

He returned to the bedroom, the closet, took another 
hanger, of a different shape than the one he had used 
for his jacket, and then removed his trousers, made 
sure that the creases were aligned, then removed the 
hanger under them. He put that hanger in the closet 
also.

He then turned, sat in a chair and removed his shoes, 
then his socks. He took his socks to the same hamper 
into which his shirt had gone, then returned to the 
bedroom. He stood over the bed, dressed in his 
undershirt and briefs, and looked at Marily.

"Why are you in bed? In the middle of the afternoon? 
You've never done this before." He didn't wait for an 
answer, since she simply looked at him, but went 
instead to the other closet, opened it, then turned 
back to her with a startled look "Where are my 
clothes?" he demanded.

"I didn't put them out today. Find the ones you wore 
yesterday," Marily said, trying not to sound angry.

"I can't stand the same clothes two days in a row. You 
know that. Why are you in bed?" He turned to look at 
her again. "You wouldn't believe it, Fred," Marily 
said, then turned onto her side, away from him so that 
she would not have to look at him nor he at her.

"Well, if you're ill all you have to do is say so. I 
mean I come home after working all day and find you in 
bed and what am I supposed to think. Then, you haven't 
done anything, apparently, all day. My clothes aren't 
even ready. Do you plan to make dinner or do you intend 
to ruin our whole daily routine?" He finished with an 
injured tone to his voice.

Marily wanted to hurt him, suddenly, just for the hell 
of it. She felt like crying not from her own debasing 
experience with their neighbor, but for hers and Fred's 
hopeless situation, which, she had to admit, had only 
become hopeless within the period of the last two 
hours. She turned back over in bed, looking at him and 
said, "Fred, let's make love."

"You must have a fever, Marily. You mean now, this 
minute, I presume? This is only Tuesday. We do that on 
Thursday night, and not in the middle of the afternoon. 
I would appreciate it very much if you would get up, 
after I have found some clothes for myself, and prepare 
dinner. I don't care to eat after seven o'clock, as you 
very well know." He was indignant. He rummaged around, 
knocked hangers about the closet, then finally pulled 
on a pair of trousers, doffed a sweater, then carried 
his sneakers out of the room.

Marily sighed, then sat up in bed. She felt dizzy. She 
stood, after a couple of minutes, and the waves of 
dizziness assaulted her again. The coldness of the air, 
on her nipples, her bare buttocks, jarred her somewhat 
and she laughed. She started, on impulse, to call Fred 
into the bedroom, then changed her mind. He had never, 
she reflected, seen her nude so she might just jolt him 
into a heart attack. But, she reflected, biting her 
under-lip, she had never seen him totally nude either. 

She went to the bathroom, put a shower cap over her 
head, turned the faucet to hot, then adjusted the cold 
water until she got the mixture she wanted, then 
stepped into the shower. Hell, she thought, once her 
body was covered with soap and her hands sliding 
comfortingly over its slippery surface, I ought to be 
thankful for being raped, and I ought to have a husband 
who would be so wounded that he would kill the man that 
did it. But, she almost laughed to herself, I'm not and 
I don't.

She rinsed off the soap, then stepped out of the 
shower, and dried herself vigorously. She felt that she 
had some of her purity restored, just by getting the 
outside of herself clean. She returned to the bedroom 
and dressed. She was still experiencing a throbbing in 
her vagina, deep down, next to the center of her being.

She passed through the living room with hardly a glance 
at Fred. He was sitting in his chair, reading the 
newspaper, waiting -- she knew -- for her to prepare 
his glass of vegetable juice. She did so, then returned 
to him, placed it on the table next to his chair and 
stood there, looking at he top of his head. He 
nervously rustled the paper.

"What would you like for dinner, Fred?" she asked.

He acted as though he had been slapped. His head flew 
back, the paper was smashed on his lap and he looked at 
her with a startled expression. "Marily, I must say I 
don't understand you today. This is Tuesday. We will 
have what we have every Tuesday. I see no reason to 
change our menus just because you choose to sleep all 
day, do you?"

"We can't. I didn't do shopping today." She felt like 
hitting him. He had no idea what had happened to her, 
didn't even seem to care if anything had. She had never 
realized what a drag their very existence had become.

"Didn't go shopping today? Then we have nothing to eat, 
do we? I mean since we only eat fresh vegetables and 
fresh fruit, we must be out of luck." he glared at her.

"You only eat fresh fruits and vegetables. I don't 
really care that much. I'd like to go out to dinner. 
I'd like to have a large steak and drink before dinner, 
too. Wouldn't you?" She asked, knowing the answer 
before she put the question.

"I would not. I don't care to ruin the organic whole of 
me even if you do seem bent on self-destruction. Not 
for a minute. But, we could go to the living health 
store and dine since there is nothing here to eat. That 
is, if you wish. Is it too late to go shopping now?" He 
wanted to know.

"Perhaps not. I think the store stays open until nine, 
but I don't care to go to the store. Not today." She 
sat down in a chair opposite his.

He peered at her, then turned his head away and seemed 
to look at the wall. Then he turned back to her 
abruptly and in a slightly lower voice than shout, 
"Marily, I demand to know what's troubling you. I am 
your husband, you know, and I want to know. I come home 
and you're in bed and then you asked me if I wanted to 
make love on a Tuesday afternoon and you've done 
nothing by way of preparing dinner and... you don't 
look right. Now, what is the trouble?" He sat forward 
in his chair and eyed her suspiciously.

"Fred, are you satisfied with our sex life?" She asked, 
not realizing that she was going to say what she said 
before it was there between them.

Fred jumped from his chair, paced the floor, then with 
his back to her, said: "I am. We are married and we 
have what some people would call a normal sex life, I 
believe. At the least the normal people would call it 
such. You are not?" He questioned the wall.

"I don't know. I suppose so. I just... It was a stupid 
question. Forget it." She, too, stood and turned toward 
the kitchen.

"Marily," he said, softly, still to the wall, "If you'd 
really like to go out to dinner, we can, I suppose. I 
shouldn't try to stick too close to a schedule, I 
guess. It's easy for me but I know it gets on your 
nerves. Let's. Where would you like to go?"

"For a drink and a steak," she said, still facing away 
from him. "Perhaps to the Red Ox."

"Very well," he agreed, "But the money will have to 
come out of the household budget. I'll just have a 
salad so that should save some."

Marily turned and went to the bedroom. She dressed 
hurriedly, feeling that she had won a victory over him, 
wondering why she felt so depressed. She shook off the 
feeling, entered the bathroom, then called to him so 
that he could dress while she was in the bathroom 
making up her face.

Thirty minutes later they left the house and got into 
the car. Fred was permitting the car to warm up, even 
though he had been driving it only an hour or so 
before, when Peter drove into his own drive way. He 
jumped out of the car, waved a hand gaily in their 
general direction as though nothing at all had happened 
then entered his house. Marily felt her face grow warm, 
her whole body trembled. Before she could examine her 
feeling, Fred interrupted.

"He's quite a nice looking man, I hear that he is a 
very good attorney, also. I don't know why he would 
choose someone like her for a wife, she can't possibly 
help him get ahead." Fred mused, steering the car onto 
the street.

His wife didn't bother to answer. She wished that she 
could sort out her own feeling toward her attacker. Her 
sensation when she saw him was not an unpleasant one, 
but he had, damn him, that very afternoon, assaulted 
and raped her. She should hate him, she told herself, 
but she didn't. Instead she wondered if he would come 
back as he had promised.

"God, what would she do if he did? Would she fight and 
scream to protect her honor with a greater intensity 
than she had this afternoon? Or would she... Yes, she 
mused to herself at the broken thought... or would she? 
Perhaps, the slight trembling and gnawing sensation she 
had felt in her loins when he had waved at them a 
moment ago had given her the answer. But now... now 
wasn't the moment to think about it... that would all 
come in due time...


-= Chapter 2 =-

Marily enjoyed the dinner. She had consumed two drinks, 
much to Fred's consternation, then had eaten a 
delicious steak, blood rare. She felt great. She had 
admonished herself for looking at the men in the room, 
feeling each time she looked thoroughly at one of them 
(sitting alone at the bar, with other women, with men 
friends) the sensations that she had had earlier in the 
afternoon. She was just as pleased to leave the 
restaurant as she had been to arrive there.

Once home Marily tried to shake the feeling of need and 
desire that bunched up inside her demanding an outlet. 
She couldn't. While Fred had been showering for bed, 
she had wandered out to the patio, had looked in the 
direction of Peter's house, had tried to figure which 
bedroom might be his. 

Then she remembered his wife, she frowned and, in her 
own mind, agreed with her husband: how could he live 
with such a silly woman? She returned to the house, 
went to the bathroom, stopped in the bedroom and 
stifled a giggle when she realized that Fred was doing 
his deep breathing exercises, as he did every night, 
before going to sleep. She stripped in the bathroom, 
stood straight and looked at herself in the mirror. 

She liked what she saw. She was tall, five feet eight, 
she had nice large breasts that had not the slightest 
trace of a sag. She ran her hands over her breasts, 
lifted them so that the nipples, pink and soft, pointed 
straight into the mirror, then let them drop, ran her 
hands from her chest out over her breasts, to the end 
of the nipple, then down, under and across her stomach, 
marveled at the smoothness of it, then along the 
outside of her thighs. 

She stopped, shook herself, a need that had never been 
there before today rushing through her, and slipped her 
black negligee over her head. She gave her hair a 
couple of quick strokes, then returned to the bedroom. 
She stopped just inside the door and looked at Fred. 
She couldn't tell whether or not he was asleep because 
he often, as he explained, went to sleep in stages. She 
walked softly to his bed, circling her own, and lay 
down alongside him. He gave no indication that he was 
awake, that he knew she was there.

She carefully put her hand under the cover, let it rest 
gently on his stomach. He still made no move to 
indicate that he was aware of her presence. She started 
to massage his stomach, moving her hand across it back 
and in a circular motion and suddenly he sprang up to a 
sitting position, reached out, turned on the lamp. 
Marily was startled.

"Marily, what are you doing over here in my bed?" He 
wanted to know, scowling at her.

"I came to... I want you tonight, Fred." She leveled 
her large, hungry stare at him.

"This is Tuesday night! I just don't understand you, 
Marily. I broke up the entire schedule for the day and 
now you want to take it into the night, ruining our 
whole weeks' plans. I just don't understand." He was 
perplexed beyond doubt. "Don't try to understand. Let's 
just make love, Fred." 

She moved to him, put a hand behind his back. Fred 
sighed, turned out the light, then crawled on top of 
her. He lifted her negligee, took his penis out through 
the opening of his pajamas, then eased himself down to 
her so that his soft, fleshy prick was pressed against 
her warm, open vaginal slit. She moved slightly, put 
her hand on his back. He shook it off. She lay still, 
fear somehow almost paralyzing her that she would go 
crazy and give all that happened away and then he moved 
against her. 

She felt him begin to harden, and she wanted to kiss 
him, to be kissed, to have his tongue inside her mouth 
just as Peter's had been, but she dared not. She felt 
him enter her, easily, then push himself all the way 
in, then move in and out of her. She felt a rush of 
memories from the afternoon and before she realized 
what she was doing her legs went around his back, her 
arms circled his neck. He withdrew immediately. He was 
shocked, she knew.

"What are you trying to do?" he demanded of her, raised 
above her on his arms. "If you want me to make love to 
you, then lie still."

Marily did. She lay perfectly still, all desire gone, 
while he fucked in and out of her, not really touching 
her feelings again. She lay under him almost hating 
him, repulsion for his selfishness angering her. She 
knew that he was about to cum, not because he grabbed 
her and clung to her and pounded into her but simply 
because his breathing increased and his strokes became 
minutely faster. He withdrew from her almost as soon as 
his semen had flooded into her and got off the bed and 
went directly to the bathroom.

Marily lay as she was, heard the shower running, and 
laughed bitterly to herself. She knew that he was 
washing her dirt off himself. When she heard the shower 
stop she got up, went to her own bed. She feigned sleep 
when he re-entered the bedroom. She heard the springs 
give as he got into his bed, then the sounds of 
breathing (deep) that he made, then shortly a soft 
snore. For no reason at all tears sprung to her eyes.

She cried silently.

As her tears of frustration trickled slowly down her 
cheeks she began to consciously, for the first time to 
analyze her life, to look back over it, examine it, 
hoping to find an answer for her immediate situation.

Her whole life had been spent in study, one school 
after the other, until graduation from college. She had 
developed, she thought, as all the other girls had and 
a darned site better than ninety percent of them. She 
was an only child, her parents did not believe in a 
display of affection. She marveled now that she could 
never remember seeing her parents kiss, really kiss, in 
front of her. Nor, had she ever seen her mother cry. 
Now she found that amazing.

She had grown up with Fred, had attended the same 
grammar school, the same high school, never having 
taken notice of him, until their third year of college. 
He had asked her out and she had accepted. She hadn't 
cared much for dating and was beginning to wonder about 
herself. She had had a good time with Fred and had 
ended the summer by announcing her engagement to him. 

She laughed now, bitterly, about their dates. He had 
never taken her out 'petting', had never tried to 
handle her as some of her one shot dates from college 
had done. She had appreciated that at the time, but now 
that she reflected upon it, she wondered about it. Why? 
Why hadn't he tried to make her, just as all the other 
boys had?

He respected her too much, she decided. That had to be 
it. After all, he had known her all his life, their 
parents had known each other, so it stood to reason 
that he wasn't going to come howling into his own 
neighborhood and rape his fiancée. No, not Fred.

Even her plans for and the wedding itself were without 
emotion. She had felt curious at the time about 
herself, why she wasn't like the other girls squealing 
and giggling and bragging about their future husband, 
their families, their potential income, and their love 
life. No, not her. She and Fred had planned the first 
five years of their marriage down to the last day 
months before they were married.

She hadn't felt love for him, not as she supposed that 
she was meant to feel, but she had wanted to be married 
to him, to share his life. That, she told herself, she 
was doing. What little living he did, that is. So she 
had to admit to herself that she was just as cold and 
calculating as he was or wasn't depending on how one 
viewed their situation. She didn't really suppose that 
he felt any different about her than she did about him.

It seemed ironic to Marily that the first two years of 
what she had come to call their 'five year plan' had 
come off rather smoothly. They had lived in the city in 
a cramped apartment for the first two years. Both of 
them had worked and saved their money, all of her 
checks going into the bank for a down payment on their 
home in Suburbia, and, Fred had done well with the 
firm, had entrenched himself, was on the ladder up. All 
just as they had planned.

In six months he would plant the seed that would bring 
forth their child nine months after that. They would 
have another, but only one more, during the next five 
years, depending on Fred's advancement in the firm. The 
very coldness of it made her shiver. But, on the other 
hand, she was somehow upsetting the first five year 
plan. She almost laughed.


-= Chapter 3 =-

The following morning Marily went into the garden for 
her first cigarette of the day, but she stayed under 
the eyes of the house. She did not venture into the 
patio, did not inspect the plants, look at the rose 
buds nor notice the snails that crawled about. She 
found that she was extremely nervous, that all her 
instincts had somehow deserted her. She took a deep 
inhalation of smoke, slowly let it out, then breathed 
deeply. It did not help. She was still jumpy.

She went back to the kitchen, took her place at the 
table, put the toast in the toaster, then poured the 
coffee. Her husband came through the door as she was 
pouring his coffee. He took his seat across from her, 
then said, "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. I suppose so. Fred... I," she paused, unable to 
go on, not knowing what she wanted to say, or how she 
wanted to say it.

"You're still upset this morning. I don't understand 
it, Marily. What is it?" He seemed genuinely concerned.

"I don't know. I... I don't want to stay home today. I 
want to go somewhere, anywhere," she blurted.

"Marily," he said tiredly, "You're free to go anywhere 
you like but it isn't your day for shopping, not your 
day for the library, and I don't know where else you 
would want to go. Why don't you get to know your 
neighbors? We've been here for two months now and you 
still don't know anyone to talk to."

She wanted to laugh. She knew one neighbor very, very 
well, more than he would ever be able to believe, but 
she couldn't tell him that.

"There must be some clubs in the neighborhood for 
women. Where they sew or talk or read or something. 
Isn't there?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Marily, I 
want to tell you something. I have a surprise. I was 
going to tell you last night but... I didn't. Old man 
Callan is sending me to Chicago. I leave Friday and 
I'll be there until Wednesday of next week! How about 
that?" He smiled.

"That's wonderful, Fred. Am I going, also?" she looked 
across the table hopefully at him. Perhaps this would 
give her a few days away from this place and a chance 
to collect her scattered thoughts.

"No. As a junior executive, Marily, I'm very lucky to 
be getting the chance, the opportunity, to represent 
the company on such a big deal. I couldn't very well 
ask that they pay your way and your expenses, too." He 
seemed hurt she wasn't ecstatic over his good luck.

"But what will I do here?" she asked bitterly, almost 
crying. She wanted to tell him about Peter, almost 
started to, but she knew that as far as he was 
concerned the discussion was closed. He wouldn't 
consider her, not with such an unexpected bit of luck 
presenting itself. He didn't answer. She supposed that 
he already had, in a sense, by quizzing her about the 
clubs in the area. Damn him, if that's all he cared 
about then maybe he deserved having an unfaithful wife. 

Maybe he deserved everything he would get, or she would 
get, she mused wryly. As soon as Fred left for work 
Marily made a decision. She dressed and went to the 
store. She purchased a bottle of Gin, asked the clerk 
for a good bottle of Vermouth, and a bottle of small 
olives. Then she went to the grocery store, bought 
enough meat for sandwiches, then went home. She was 
nervous but determined.

At 12:20 she looked at the clock in the kitchen and 
almost cried. She couldn't remember what time he, 
Peter, had presented himself in the garden yesterday, 
but she felt certain that it had been before 12:20. She 
drank a cup of coffee, walked about the living room, 
then the thought occurred to her that perhaps she 
should be out in the garden. 

No. She would never permit him to think -- to know -- 
that she was waiting for him, could not ever let him 
know that she was looking forward to seeing him again. 
How then, she wondered, was she to explain the pitcher 
of martinis? The prepared sandwiches? She felt as 
though she were losing her mind. She went to the 
kitchen, poured herself a martini and drank it straight 
down.

At five minutes of one, Marily was drunk. She had 
consumed three martinis and had cried and had washed 
her face and had applied make-up and had settled down 
with another martini. Then she heard her name called, 
softly, from the door leading to the patio. She sprung 
up from the chair, weaved slightly, then made herself 
stand still. She would not, she insisted, show how 
eager she was. She walked slowly to the door and looked 
at him, standing there, smiling, waiting for her. That 
was all it took.

Marily hurriedly opened the door and fell into his 
waiting arms. She clung to him, found his mouth with 
hers, and kissed him long and passionately. She felt 
him lift her off her feet, move back into the kitchen 
with her. His hands familiarly sought the soft mounds 
of her buttocks and pulled her toward him, into him. 
They kissed for what seemed like seconds for Marily but 
was actually five minutes. She was crying with joy when 
he lifted her away from him.

"Where's my martini?" He wanted to know, smiling his 
arrogant smile at her eagerness. But now, with the 
weight of the martini's lying heavy in her mind and the 
bitter thought of her husband's maddening disinterest 
in her welfare still ringing in her ears, his arrogance 
over his seduction of her didn't seem to matter quite 
so much. She was using him this time as much as he had 
used her before and the forbidden thought of committing 
adultery with another man right in her own husband's 
bed strangely frightened and yet excited her at the 
same time. 

It was going to be a big step in her life to do it 
voluntarily this way and a gnawing sense of hesitation 
pervaded her alcohol dazed mind. She knew once it 
started, there would be no turning back and she would 
be completely at the mercy of the whims of her body. 
But... she also knew that even now it was too late. The 
lewd, but exciting thought of again, this time from 
desire, of opening her legs to her neighbor's husband, 
had driven her beyond the point of any resistance to 
his advances.

She stifled a sniffle, went to the refrigerator and 
took the pitcher of martinis from it. She poured him 
one, put an olive in it and watched his hands as he 
took it from her. He sipped, smacked his lips, widened 
his eyes, and said, "Perfect."

Between kisses and using his hands on her buttocks and 
breasts, Peter consumed that martini and asked for 
another. He drank that rather rapidly in the same 
manner, then calmly placed the glass on the table next 
to the couch and said, huskily, as though commanding a 
prostitute:

"Let's go to the bedroom."

"I made some sandwiches," Marily said, softly, hoping 
that he would take time to eat them now and give her a 
chance to collect her thoughts. Perhaps even a chance 
to back away from this horrible thing she was about to 
do. But, his answer gave her no respite from the 
decision she had made in anger earlier in the day.

"We can eat those after," he said, lifting her off the 
couch and guiding her to the bedroom. "Undress me and 
kiss me." he told her just inside the door, pressing 
his lips against her nose.

She did as she was told, knowing there was no backing 
down now. She removed his jacket, then mashed herself 
against him, probing gently into his mouth with her 
tongue. Then she removed his tie, and he awarded her 
with a searing kiss of a longer duration than hers had 
been. She started to unbutton his shirt but he guided 
her hands to his trousers. She was nervous and 
fumbling, but she managed to unbuckle the belt, then 
the zipper, then she moved his trousers down his leg. 
She blushed when she remembered his shoes and that they 
would have to come off before his trousers. 

She followed as he dropped back in to a chair and 
dropped to her knees and undid his shoe laces, then 
removed his shoes, receiving a kiss for each one. Then 
she dragged his trousers off his leg, started to fold 
them, but he motioned for them, took them out of her 
hand and threw them across the stool of her dressing 
table. 

He stood, kissed her and pressed his hardening penis 
into her stomach. She started to unbutton his shirt, 
but he pushed her hands down to his jock shorts. She 
blushed again, feeling suddenly more wicked than she 
ever had in her whole life, and put her hands around 
the waist band of his shorts and slipped them over his 
hips. She had to bend to take them off his legs, from 
under his feet and her eyes locked involuntarily on his 
mammoth cock, hanging as it had yesterday from under 
his shirt, straight down, the head of it purple and 
huge.

"Kiss it," he told her, putting his hand on top of her 
head. She did, after a slight moment's hesitation. But 
barely touching it with the soft wetness of her lips. 
He laughed, pulled her up in his arms and said, "You're 
innocent. And very, very nice. Take off my shirt."

She was so nervous that she thought she would never get 
all the buttons undone and the French cuffs gave her a 
lot of trouble. She made it, however, and slipped his 
shirt off his back. Then she took the bottom of his 
undershirt and raised up over his broad shoulders, then 
over his head, then flung it over her head and fell 
into him. He took her in his arms, moved his hands to 
her buttocks, massaged and squeezed her soft, pliant 
mounds, and kissed her totally with his lips, his 
tongue and his teeth. She felt faint, her desire for 
him overpowering her, making her legs weak and her 
stomach tingle.

Then he broke away from her embrace and began to 
undress her, tossing her clothes in a heap, biting her 
breasts as he permitted one to spring free, then the 
other, then dropping to his knees and gently removing 
her panties, kissing her stomach, her pubic hair and 
nibbling hungrily at her thighs.

Marily was in a quandary. She was trying to examine her 
own emotions, her complete abandon of herself to the 
pleasure of sex, her lack of moral convictions, that 
she should be thinking about, the building fires, pin 
point sharp, that were bursting within her, driving her 
crazy. She had never wanted anything, anytime, anymore 
than she wanted Peter now. She could hardly breathe.

He gently laid her on the bed then moved her dressing 
table so that it was at the direct foot of the bed, 
then tilted the mirror so that she could see herself, 
from head to foot, reflecting in the glass. He eased 
himself onto the bed, so that he was lying on her 
stomach and lowered his head to her full ripe breasts. 

He kissed first one, then the other, then licked one 
from her chest to its very end and sunk his mouth over 
and onto her nipple. Marily involuntarily rose up, 
pushed her breasts up, toward him. He sucked with his 
strong tongue, then teased her nipple with his teeth 
until it hardened, sprang into life all by itself. Then 
he moved to the other, repeated the same with it.

Marily lay under him, her hands rubbing his back and 
shoulders and his head, her fingers in his hair, 
pressing his head down into the softness of her naked 
body. She felt that she was alive in every cell of her 
being from the tip of her toes to the very top of her 
head. She glanced into the mirror and saw the two of 
them reflected there, he feeding on her, her moving and 
groaning under him, feeling as she was certain an 
actress must feel before the cameras of a dirty movie.

He put his mouth over hers, cupped her breasts with his 
hands and massaged and squeezed, and probed her mouth 
with his tongue, mixing his saliva with her, then 
drawing it out of her, then probing back into her 
throat, in and out like a slippery, wet serpent.

Marily wanted to consume him, all of him, through her 
mouth. She felt her lips burn, her tongue was beginning 
to get sore and enlarged, and she gasped desperately 
for breaths of air. He stopped kissing her, rolled over 
on his back, and pulled her on top of him, sideways as 
he had been on her. She put her mouth on his, probed 
his lips with her tongue until they parted.

He bit her lips. She drew back, startled, and he raised 
her by the shoulders and moved her so that her breast 
was over his mouth, then he sucked it in, worked over 
the hardened nipple with his lips and tongue and then 
his teeth until she cried out from pain, then moved her 
again so that the other breast hung over his face. She 
got the same treatment on that one, then he lifted her 
again so that her mouth was on his.

He moved his hands down the smoothness of her back and 
rubbed her hips where the soft white curves started, 
then over the roundness of them between her legs, then 
tentatively softly parted the soft, sparse pubic hair 
and worked his finger into her soft-lipped cunt and 
teased the tip of his thumb lightly against the rubbery 
tissue of her anus.

Marily moaned softly up into his mouth, feeling every 
movement of his hands over her and about her and opened 
her legs slightly to feel the finger moving into her 
wetness and probing, gently, deeper, the warm, moist 
walls giving to permit the object inside her without 
pain. She was surprised when he slowly wormed his thumb 
into her anus, felt the sharpness of the pain which she 
found endurable and enjoyable and sucked and bit his 
tongue, worked herself into a frenzy there on him, her 
moving hips doing the love making. 

Then, with his probing fingers in both her openings, 
she started rotating her hips, grinding down on his 
hands, all her sensations rushing over the sensitive 
flesh of her naked body. She knew that she was going to 
have an orgasm, a small, delicious, tiny one that would 
lead the way to a greater and more cataclysmic one 
later when he had crawled between her open thighs and 
fucked her the way her husband never could.

He took her hand in his and guided it to his throbbing 
prick. Marily felt the hardness that her hand could 
never completely encompass, and another thrill went 
through her, surging from her hand to her breasts to 
her contracting vaginal walls, wave after wave of it, 
rippling salaciously against her insides. She tried to 
move onto him, wanted to guide the pulsating hardness 
into her vagina, but he wouldn't permit it.

He moved her head away from his, then toward his chest. 
She nibbled at his nipples, which were so very strange, 
so different from her own prominent ones, so much so 
that they almost weren't there, then he moved her head 
down his stomach, and taking a handful of hair, lifted 
her head and gently levered her mouth to the head of 
his prick.

She looked into the mirror and saw the monster of 
pleasure standing tall and excited under her mouth, and 
she cried out, "No!" before he shoved her head down, 
filling her mouth full with the wonder of his hard 
pulsating flesh. But, it was too new, too fast, and she 
lifted her head, eased the head of his cock from her 
mouth, and he understood and moved her back alongside 
him. He kissed her mouth, then her breasts, then moving 
down her body, her stomach, and spread her legs, kissed 
and bit her thighs until she thought she would be 
consumed by the flames of her own burning self. 

He slowly but surely spread her cuntal lips with his 
fingers and probed the soft hair-lined pinkness of her 
vagina with his tongue. He moved the clitoris back, 
then forward, then shoved his tongue into her, causing 
her to buck upwards, grinding the wetness of her naked 
loins towards his face. He stopped, abruptly, and 
crawled up on top of her.

She was half wild with desire and lust now and clawed 
into his back, bit his lips, sucked his tongue then 
pleaded, "Please, Peter, Now!"

"Now what?" he asked, breathing hotly into the hollow 
of her neck.

"Do it to me," she begged, grinding her hips in lewd 
invitation beneath him.

"Do what to you?" he teased, delighting in her agony.

"Take me, Peter, please darling." She implored, 
clasping his buttocks, in her hands and trying to pull 
him into her.

"That's not what you mean, Marily. Say what you mean," 
he whispered moving gently and pressing his hardened 
penis into her stomach.

"Please! Please, Peter!"

"Say it, baby, just say it and its yours," he repeated, 
still pressing his hardened cock into her stomach, the 
secreting seminal fluid rubbing wetly into her flesh. 
"Ask me to fuck you."

"Oh, yes, please, Peter. Do it... please!" she moaned 
under him, moving, wanting him inside her more than she 
could ever have believed that she would want anything.

"Then ask me. Ask me to fuck you," he teased again, 
bearing down and flexing his hardness into her stomach.

"Fuc... do it... ah... fuck... fuck me, please, 
darling," she moaned rising to meet his every movement.

"Keep saying it, baby," Peter demanded, raising his 
hips slightly and moving down so that he was pressed 
tight between her open legs.

Marily groaned as she felt the huge head of his prick 
touch her soft eager cunt lips and tried to spread her 
thighs wider to suck it in to her but he cruelly pulled 
back. "Say it, Marily, beg me, baby."

"Fuck me! Please! Fuck... ahh!" She felt the pulsating 
head sliding wetly into her cunt, barely, and again she 
tried to move up, to swallow it all the way in her but 
again he drew back, letting her have only what he 
wished her to have. She couldn't stand it. She had to 
have him in her, all the way, all at once!

"FUCK ME!" she screamed, clawing at his back. She was 
awarded with more of him, but not enough. "FUCK, FUCK, 
FUCK ME!" she pleaded until all of him was there, 
wedged into her, all of her filled and the bigness of 
the head of his prick pushed deep up in her burning 
belly.

She ground against him and came almost immediately, in 
sudden jolting explosions, her orgiastic secretions 
flowing out against him, bursting around the large 
pistoning head of his prick.

"Oooooh, Mmmmm, Aaaaaaah, darling, I'm... I'm cumming, 
God, I'm cummmmming," she groaned out her orgasm and 
then relaxed, exhaustion replacing the bursting dam 
inside her.

Her neighbor stilled his thrust and waited until he 
could feel the contracting walls of her cunt slowly 
throb to a halt and then began to move again, out, then 
slowly in, the sensations of his hard prick against the 
walls of her vagina slowly exciting her again, until 
suddenly she was responding once more, with him, her 
fingers dug into his buttocks, slamming him into her 
with all her might and slapping into the flesh of his 
stomach with her own.

She felt a change within him as she labored beneath 
him, a growing and quickened throbbing of his deep 
implanted prick and then her own feeling surged within 
herself. Peter took her legs in his arms and bent her 
knees back over her shoulders and her attention was 
arrested by their obscene reflection in the mirror.

She gasped at the pink flanges, the hair-lined 
tightness of the soft protective folds of flesh around 
her cunt, drawing back with each out stroke and being 
pushed in again as Peter thrust forward into her with 
the hammer-like rhythm he had begun.

She moved under him, wanting all of it deep within her, 
and gasped when he shoved further into her; she had 
thought that there was no greater depth of her than he 
had already reached. She watched his pistoning cock, 
sinking wet and glistening, deep into the tight, 
clasping lips of her pussy as often as she could, and 
clutched and screamed and cried under his power, and 
felt him impale her solidly.

He raised his head slightly and shoved into her and 
started short quick strokes that brought her to another 
climax along with him and he shrieked and she moaned 
and then he rested on top of her, his cock still 
imbedded within her, hard as ever, filling her, the hot 
juices spewed from it oozing out warmly and thickly 
against the walls of her vagina, squeezing over each 
ridge of her. She rubbed his back and fingered his hair 
and studied his muscular buttocks with her legs locked 
around them in the mirror. 

She had never felt so good in her life, she told 
herself, so she closed her eyes and enjoyed to the 
fullest her every adulterous sensation, her belly 
filled with the warm wet sperm of his satisfaction. She 
opened her eyes again and looked at him as he started 
to withdraw from her. 

He smiled into her face, then his prick slipped moistly 
out of her cunt with a wet, sucking sound and he raised 
himself slightly and placed it on her stomach and then 
lay on top of it, on top of her, and moved his hands 
under her head and kissed her gently, lazily, and 
rested his head alongside hers.

"Come to a party this week-end?" He asked quietly into 
her ear after the gasps of his orgasm had subsided.

"Fred will be out of town," she answered, just as 
contentedly as he had asked.

"Good. Then I'll have you all to myself. Just us." He 
put his hand on her breast and took her nipple between 
his thumb and index finger.

"What about your wife?" She asked hesitantly, her hand 
stroking his neck.

"She'll be there. But, don't worry about her. She's 
quite popular herself. She wanted Fred to be there, 
too, though."

"What?" Marily demanded, raising her head slightly. 
"Vivian knows Fred?"

"No, I don't think so. She's seen him though and wanted 
me to invite the two of you. She likes him."

"I don't understand," she stammered, "You mean that 
she... wants Fred?" Marily was confused. She had never 
thought about another woman lusting after Fred. It 
seemed impossible to her. Considering what a man Peter 
was and the fact that he was Vivian's husband made it 
absolutely ridiculous. She couldn't hold back a slight 
giggle at the thought.

"What are you laughing about?" Peter asked, studying 
her closely.

"Why, that's ludicrous. Really. I just can't imagine 
Fred doing anything like this..."

"Fucking?" Peter supplied the word.

"... Fucking with her. Or anyone, really. It's funny."

"Doesn't he fuck you?" Peter asked bluntly.

"Well... yes." Marily felt strange talking to him about 
she and Fred. "But not like this. I mean... well, 
differently."

"I didn't know there was any other way," Peter laughed 
and put his hand on the side of her soft white breast.

"He does it to me this way... but, well, not with the 
same feeling. He's very different than you, Peter. Much 
more conservative, I guess. He's quiet." She was unable 
to describe her husband, did not want to put it into 
words that sounded like betrayal to her, of just how 
and when they had sex relations.

"Do you love him, Marily?" Peter asked.

"Of course I do. Certainly." She answered, as much for 
her own benefit as for his.

"But he doesn't make you happy in bed." He put his hand 
over her mouth, and then continued. "Marily, you've 
been married two years and you have a bedroom with two 
beds in it. Now. I know that you must use one and he 
the other. Right?"

She moved her head up and down to indicate that he was 
right. "That doesn't take much figuring, Baby. You're 
turned on to sex so apparently he isn't. But, we'll all 
work together and we'll fix everything up. You'll have 
to join the neighborhood club." He finished speaking, 
got off the bed and began dressing. He left without 
telling her anymore.

***

Later, she could have kicked herself for not asking 
Peter what he had meant by the neighborhood club, but 
she hadn't. She worried about it, thought about it, but 
couldn't think of anyway to contact him to find out. He 
hadn't told her that he would see her the next day or 
when he would tell her more about the party that she 
had decided to attend. She called herself a fool and 
let other worries take control of her mind.

She managed to find a safe hiding place for the gin and 
vermouth she had purchased for her and Peter before 
Fred arrived home, on the exact minute of the very hour 
that he had made it the day before and the day before 
that. She had washed the glasses they had used, made 
the bed, put the dressing table back into position, and 
sprayed all the rooms with Lysol spray, taking no 
chances on Fred smelling the faintest whiff of gin or 
cigarette smoke. She hadn't been able to bring herself 
to ask Peter not to smoke in her house. That would have 
taken too much explanation.

"Hello, Darling," Fred said, walking through the door. 
He removed his hat, then sat his briefcase carefully on 
the floor. Marily went to him, stood on tip-toe and 
kissed him on the lips, slightly and momentarily. 
Nevertheless, it seemed to shake him up. He looked at 
her strangely, then walked past her to the bedroom. 

She could hear him making noises as he put his clothes 
away, carefully as always, and heard him grunt with 
pleasure to find his clothes for changing into where he 
expected them to be, but where they had not been 
yesterday. When he returned to the living room and sat 
in his chair and reached for the paper, Marily had his 
vegetable juice ready and announced proudly that dinner 
would be on time tonight, as usual.

"Good," he sighed, happy that his home had returned to 
normal. He rattled the paper.

Across the table from her, over the bowl of spinach 
soufflé, the boiled Swiss chard and the tiny boiled 
onions, above the stone ground black bread and ginger 
root, Fred pronounced her name. "Marily, I have a 
surprise for you. You may go with me to Chicago if you 
wish. I think we can manage it."

Marily was startled. She wondered immediately it he had 
suspected something, had seen something in the house 
that she had failed to arrange before he got home that 
told him a man had been there. She looked at him, 
amazed, and couldn't answer what had almost amounted to 
a question on his part.

He didn't wait for her to answer, however, but 
continued, saying, "We could take the money out of the 
savings and you could get a small job that you could do 
in the house, while I'm away in the daytime, and put it 
back. I really don't want you to stay here alone, 
anyway. Particularly if you don't want to." He smiled 
at her.

"Oh, Fred, that wasn't me talking this morning, really. 
I don't mind staying here alone. After all, it's your 
job and I guess I was just a little jealous and you'll 
be working all the time and... no, no, I'd really just 
prefer to stay here." She knew that her face was red 
and wished to hell that it wasn't, hoped that he would 
not suspect her of anything. Now she wanted to go to 
the party that Peter had mentioned, though none of it 
would have happened if Fred had offered to take her 
yesterday, she had no intention of anything interfering 
with that wish.

Fred was easily put off. "I think that is the wisest 
choice, Marily. I mean we agreed never to touch our 
savings and all, but I worried about you all day and 
thought that I might be being a little selfish." Then I 
had that idea. But, if you think it'll be all right 
maybe we should just leave it as it stands and I'll 
only be gone four days anyway."

"It's much better that way, Fred. Much. I'll be all 
right. Really. Maybe there'll be a party in the 
neighborhood or something one night."

She stopped herself, afraid it might raise his 
suspicions. "That would be nice. Darling, did you get 
my clothes packed today?" He asked, peering across the 
table at her.

"No, Fred, I didn't. You're not leaving until Friday 
morning and they'll be ready. Don't worry about it." 
She did not speak again during the meal, nor did he.


-= Chapter 4 =-

Marily drove Fred to the office Friday morning. As she 
was pulling into the drive way, having deposited Fred 
at his office, Peter came out of his house and stood 
and smiled at her. He walked across the lawn, jumped 
over the small hedge, and yanked open the door on the 
passenger side of the car. "Hello beautiful," he said, 
flashing her a cocky, winning smile.

"Not so loud, people will hear you," Marily said, 
trying not to smile back at him, not wanting her desire 
of him to show through her exterior.

"One always always speaks to be heard by somebody. 
Right? Look, the party starts tonight at eight. Why 
don't you come over to dinner with Vivian and me? You 
don't want to eat alone, do you?"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing at first. Did 
he really expect her to sit at the same table with his 
wife and eat and be aware of her and the food she had 
cooked and try to carry on a conversation after what 
had happened between her and Peter? She thought that he 
must surely be joking. "You're kidding?"

"Not at all. Vivian will see you today about it. I 
gotta run. Must be in court at ten. Bye Love," he said, 
slamming her car door and moving toward his own garage. 
She wanted desperately to call him back and talk to 
him, get a couple of answers, but she couldn't. 

What neighbor might be listening, watching her? She 
drove the car into the garage and got out as quickly as 
possible and went into the safety of her home. She 
poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the 
breakfast table to drink it. The telephone rang. She 
almost jumped out of her skin, spilling the coffee in 
the process. She picked up the instrument and said, 
dully, "Hello."

The voice on the phone came to her in a rush, seeming 
to fill her whole head with a loud roar. "Hello, 
Marily--if I may call you that--I'm Vivian, Mrs. Aiken 
from next door. I saw Peter talking to you in the drive 
way and," Marily gasped, an instant vision of her whole 
world falling in on her, clouding her mind, then 
stammered without making sound and then listened as the 
voice continued, "I'm sure he told you about dinner 
tonight. So, I'll expect you about seven-thirty and 
we'll have an early dinner and the other guests will 
start arriving about nine but that gives us time for a 
drink and a little talk and I have to do a great deal 
today because I have a meeting with the League of Women 
Voters in half an hour and I must rush now. See you 
tonight." 

The voice stopped as suddenly as it had started. Marily 
stood several minutes with the instrument still in her 
hand, then slowly replaced it. She was stunned. The 
woman sounded over the phone just as she did in the 
yard, talking and never stopping and making everything 
into one sentence. She poured herself another cup of 
coffee and drank it slowly, along with smoking a 
cigarette--she could get the odor out of the house 
before Fred returned-- and wondered about the coming 
party.


-= Chapter 5 =-

She dressed carefully for the party. She had luxuriated 
in a bath for over an hour, had shaved her legs 
carefully and under her arms, and had creamed her face 
and made it up very carefully. She decided at the last 
minute not to wear a girdle, giggling to herself as she 
made the decision, even though her black, clinging 
dress did look better with one. 

She made herself one small martini just to steady her 
nerves and sat, listening to the stereo, and drank it 
and inhaled deeply of her cigarette. She was looking 
forward eagerly to the party, if not to the dinner. She 
needed courage, she felt, to face her neighbor's wife 
after all that had happened and his candid admission 
that she knew all about it.

At seven thirty-five she presented herself at the door 
of Peter's house. Much to her surprise he answered the 
door, took her hand and tenderly led her inside. "Our 
guest has arrived, Vivian, and she is the picture of 
loveliness," he called over his shoulder, then bent and 
kissed her hard on the month. 

Marily drew back as though he had slapped her. She saw 
Vivian standing in the doorway, her arms extended. 
"You're quite right, Peter, she is lovely. Come in, 
Dear, come in. What have you been doing all day besides 
making yourself lovely for us Peter get her a drink 
quickly and let's go in here I'm taking her away from 
you Peter if you're not going to join us in the kitchen 
and sit here, Marily, you are beautiful." She ran down 
or stopped of her own accord and her eyes took in the 
whole of Marily, her stately figure, her large firm 
breasts and her flat stomach and her long, slim legs. 
She shook her head and turned and went to the stove.

Peter came through the door, smiling, and winked at 
her, put a martini in her hand, then sat down beside 
her. He put his arm behind her back and then over her 
arm and pulled her to him. Marily was sure he was 
crazy. He kissed her right there, in front of his wife 
who had her back turned to them but who could and did 
turn around in time to see him kiss her.

"What... what on earth...?" she stammered, trying to 
meet the eyes of Vivian. She felt as though she could 
crawl through a one inch hole in the floor if there 
happened to be one.

"Peter, don't be naughty and embarrass her and muss up 
her clothes and we haven't even had one drink yet to 
say nothing of dinner don't mind him, Marily, he's 
always the same but you should have worn coveralls if 
you didn't want him pawing at you all evening he's that 
way you horny old man you let's all go into the other 
room until the dinner is ready."

Vivian led the way, taking them through the dining 
room, where Peter grasped Marily's buttock 
provocatively in his hand, in to the living room and 
they all sat. Peter put on a record and Vivian was 
still completing a sentence that had started fifty 
thoughts ago when she somehow announced dinner. They 
went into the dining room, Marily almost physically ill 
from the talk and the drink and the tenseness from 
being close to Peter in his own house with his wife 
there. She asked where the daughter was.

"She's at my mother's I had to take her there after 
school and then rush around to the store and buy all 
the food for dinner frozen though it was it wasn't bad 
and get home and prepare everything for the party and 
now if you'll excuse me I have to go change clothes and 
Peter be nice." Vivian was half-way up the stairs by 
the time they heard the last of her voice, but she 
started talking again before she disappeared through a 
door at the top of the stairs.

Peter smiled at Marily, made a gesture that indicated 
how hopeless it was to listen to Vivian or to try to 
answer her. He enveloped Marily in his arms, drew her 
body to his and kissed her tenderly. Marily stood as he 
took her, arms hanging down the side of her body, 
stiff, her mind in circles and images of Vivian 
catching the two of them, there, in her own house with 
her husband kissing her. She drew away.

"What's the matter, darling?" Peter asked in all 
innocence.

"Peter, you must be crazy, doing that here with your 
wife upstairs." Marily said nervously. "What if she 
should see you... us, like that?" She put a cigarette 
in her mouth and Peter leaned forward to light it for 
her.

"Dear girl, she doesn't care. I thought that I had 
explained..." he began, but his words were chopped off 
by the ringing of the door bell. He went to the door, 
Marily straightened her skirt, ran a hand through her 
hair and sat very straight on her chair. Marily looked 
up as they entered and saw one of the most striking 
couples she had ever in her life seen. 

The woman was tall, almost six feet Marily would have 
guessed, every part of her body was well proportioned, 
her hair was raven black, her eyes green and her 
complexion as white and unblemished as a baby's skin. 
Her husband was her opposite, blond, taller than his 
wife, blue eyed, broad shouldered and handsome. He 
spoke not to Marily directly, but around her, saying to 
Peter but looking at her, "What a lovely woman, Peter. 
I know not how you do it." 

He spoke with an accent, not a heavy one, and Marily 
noticed immediately that he was an educated European, 
of what origin she had no idea.

She turned her attention from him, momentarily, and saw 
Peter in a passionate embrace with the beautiful woman. 
She gasped, anger rising in her. Peter released the 
woman, removed his hands from her buttocks, and 
introduced them to Marily: "Darling, this is Hans and 
Anna Shiller. And this is our neighbor, Marily." He 
smiled, looking down at Marily, but she couldn't meet 
his eyes.

Hans dropped into the chair next to her and asked her 
about herself, then wanted to know if her husband were 
there, or would he be there later on. "No," Marily had 
answered, then had started to explain that he was out 
of town for the week-end and would not return until 
Tuesday. She was interrupted by the arrival of guests, 
all couples, and the introductions that followed. 
Everyone seemed to know each other, intimately. 

They all kissed, ran their hands over buttocks and 
pulled another person to them, against them, both the 
men and the women. Marily tried to accept their actions 
in her own mind, tried not to see anything wrong with 
the friendliness they apparently felt for each other. 
She reminded herself that she and Fred had not been 
hitting the social circuit for a long while, since 
their marriage, and that maybe, in the short span of 
two years, things were changing. Hans interrupted her 
thoughts.

"I am glad to find you the extra women. It is 
wonderful. You are as lovely as Peter said you were." 
He looked levelly into her eyes, sending goose bumps 
over her bare arms and back. She started to answer him, 
but he continued, "Peter and I, we shall be together 
tonight. We will not permit hurt to you. You shall 
see." He smiled, then stood and walked away from her.

Marily was introduced to one medical doctor and his 
wife; another lawyer and his wife, a couple of business 
men and their wives, people in all walks of life, the 
professional ones, the smart and well-dressed and 
intelligent and moneyed people. She began to relax, 
feeling that she was getting a firm foot inside the 
society of her neighborhood, that Fred would be proud 
of her and delighted with the party when she told him 
about it. 

She had had her glass refilled several times and began 
to feel a little light headed by the time Vivian 
descended the stairs, her voice floating above the 
crowd in the room, in a steady stream, all the way to 
the bottom of the stairwell. There, she began to kiss 
on the lips, every man and woman in the room. Marily 
was simply shocked. She finished her fifth drink and 
watched the hostess. It suddenly occurring to her that 
Vivian had a good five years on Peter. That thought 
sent her in search of another drink as through her 
alcoholic haze she could hear the older woman's voice 
resounding monotonously through the room.

"All names are in the hat if everyone is here by now 
and looking around I'm sure they are but we are going 
to stick to our normal policy and the host is Peter and 
he's to be with the new member and all of you know how 
Hans and Peter are inseparable and," she continued, not 
bothered at all by the jovial laugh and comments from 
the rest of the guests, "So they will see to that end 
of the affair if the rest of us will just draw and the 
numbers are of course as we discussed last meeting so 
the ten evens will be with the ten odds and the twenty 
evens with the twenty odds and those with the decimal 
will of course be more than two, especially for Ben who 
insisted on two women..."

Marily heard only part of what she said, having 
returned from the kitchen with a full glass and she 
didn't even listen to the part. She couldn't believe 
that a woman or a man for that matter, could ever talk 
as much and say so little as Vivian did. She looked for 
Peter and saw him coming toward her and smiled her 
bravest smile.

Peter dropped onto the arm of her chair, put his hand 
over her shoulder, then bent and kissed her on the 
mouth. Marily was shocked, or surprised, but the 
bluntness of her mind snapping was lessened by the 
alcohol. Peter spoke to her, softly, saying "Let's find 
Hans and go over to your house."

"Hans?" She questioned.

"Yes. Come on," he said forcefully as though she had no 
choice and pulled her up from her seat, put his arm 
around her waist, and they set off through the kitchen. 
There Hans was engaged with a woman not his wife, a 
beautiful blonde, his arm around her, talking in his 
continental way. Peter laughed and said, "Grab a bottle 
and come along." He then guided Marily through the 
door, across the patio, and to her own yard.

"Peter," she pleaded, holding back so that he was 
almost dragging her, "What is this? Why did you ask 
Hans to come? I don't understand."

"I'll explain it to you, Marily. Don't you trust me? 
Don't you like Hans? He's wild. We work well together, 
don't we?" He spoke to Hans who had joined them and was 
walking on the opposite side of Marily.

"Well... I... I don't know, Peter," she started, but he 
closed her mouth with his own, caught both of her soft 
breasts of white flesh in his hands and pulled her to 
him. He kissed her long and hard, rubbed himself 
against her, put his tongue in her mouth and bit her 
lips. He released her and they continued on into the 
house.

She stopped just inside, her mind a turmoil of jumbled 
thoughts, mixed with her own desires that almost were 
overpowering her, and looked at the cupboard where the 
glasses were kept. Hans followed her gaze with his own, 
said, "Permit me," and opened the cupboard and set 
three glasses on the counter, then filled them to the 
brim with liquor. He raised his glass, after putting 
one in each of their hands, "To a good time by all," he 
smiled. Marily drank, the fiery liquid burning her 
throat and tried to smile.

When she looked around to smile at Peter he was no 
longer there. The thought occurred to her that he had 
probably stepped into the bathroom. She was surprised 
to find herself in Hans' arms, his mouth pressed to 
hers. She tried to move away, but he held her firmly, 
and kissed her deliciously, causing her body to tingle 
and taunt her. She felt his hands glide familiarly down 
her back, so she pushed him angrily away, then leaned 
back against the counter and put her hand to her 
forehead. 

She couldn't understand what was wrong with her, how 
she could be making love to one man --or at least 
letting him kiss her-- while another that she had 
cheated with, had been unfaithful to her husband with, 
was alone with them in her own house. She shook her 
head to clear it, felt familiar arms encircling her. 
She lifted her face, tears streaming down it, to Peter.

Peter took her gently in his arms, put her head on his 
shoulder, rubbed his hand over her back, and talked to 
her, "It'll be all right, Marily, it will. You'll see. 
I didn't mean to frighten you, you're beautiful, such 
lovely hair and eyes and figure. 

"Come," he told her, moving her toward the bedroom. 
Marily realized with a jolt that Peter was nude. He 
hadn't been in the bathroom, then, but in the bedroom 
undressing! She started to resist, to complain, then 
decided not to, to let herself be taken by him, to be 
loved and wanted. She stopped short just inside the 
bedroom door and her eyes widened in surprise.

The furniture had been arranged as Peter had placed it 
the last time he was there except that Fred's bed had 
been pulled next to hers. And, the shock of shocks, 
Hans was sitting on the now double bed, naked, drinking 
and smiling at her. She couldn't believe it. Nor could 
she resist looking at him, the hugeness of him, the 
beauty of his face, his slightly crooked smile and his 
lock of blond hair hanging over his forehead.

She felt dizzy, almost faint, from the liquor she had 
consumed, the craziness of the party that had been 
unlike any party she had even attended. The whole thing 
seemed like a weird but pleasant nightmare to her.

Peter took her solidly in his arms again, unzipped her 
dress down the back, put his hand inside the dress and 
over her softness, then down to her soft white 
buttocks, and pulled her to him and kissed her long and 
hard. She couldn't resist. Her body slumped against 
his; she felt the fullness of his sex against her. She 
moaned softly when he squeezed her buttocks. 

Peter slipped her dress off her shoulders, his mouth on 
hers all the time, his tongue probing deep within her. 
He moved her arms from around his neck and moved her 
slip straps over her shoulders, letting that slide to 
the floor on top of her dress. Then he unsnapped her 
bra, then kissed her breasts as he slowly removed it.

Marily had forgotten about Hans. She glanced at the 
bed, saw him sitting there as she had first seen him. 
She gave a start and tried to cover her breasts with 
her arm. Peter would have none of that. He took her arm 
and gently moved it from her breasts, then said with a 
triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Look at this, Hans. 
Beautiful, aren't they?"

Hans ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes sparkled 
and he replied, "They are that, Marily", giving a 
musical tone to her name. She noticed his rampant 
hardness being stroked lovingly between his own fingers 
and suddenly felt like a helpless maiden being offered 
up for sacrifice to these two virile naked men. And 
then, before she could react, before any thought could 
be formed in her mind, Peter had rid her of her panties 
and her shoes. She stood stark naked before the two 
nude men. Peter gently laid her on the bed, between 
himself and Hans, and turned sideways and put his mouth 
over hers.

Marily couldn't believe that such a thing was happening 
to her. She tried to be rational, tried to get her 
thoughts sorted out to figure out just what kind of 
compromise she had let herself in for. It was 
impossible. She felt hopelessly entrapped by her 
feelings for Peter, and he was there and he was kissing 
her and she was enjoying it. 

She didn't think at all about Hans, had forgotten that 
he was there, in bed with her and Peter, until she 
suddenly felt a strange set of lips on her breasts. She 
jumped, and Hans withdrew his mouth from her, then she 
was encouraged by Peter, murmuring into her ear, 
"Marily, trust me. Please," then moving his mouth back 
to hers. Again she felt the warm wetness of Hans' mouth 
on her breasts, the heat and strength of Peter's tongue 
in her own mouth, and groaned out her helplessness to 
resist their magic torment, or tried to. 

She put one hand on Peter's head, on the back of it, 
and rubbed. She could feel her breasts responding to 
the expert kissing by Hans. Feeling rushed there, she 
could tell that her nipples were beginning to harden, 
and her other hand went to the back of his head. Fire 
suddenly shot through her, from her mouth to her 
breasts to her loins and she pressed her thighs tightly 
together to try and quench the rising feeling of desire 
there between her legs.

Hans began to kiss her stomach, then above her soft 
pubic hair and strange hands were opening her legs, 
gently but firmly. She felt as though she were going to 
burn up, that from the inside the fires of her could 
consume the totality of her. She groaned when Peter 
squeezed her breasts, then withdrew his mouth from hers 
and kissed them, those two surging, perfectly shaped, 
pink topped breasts.

Hans spread her legs, gently, kissing her body softly 
and using his tongue and teeth to excite the deeper 
nerves, and then moved his mouth to the slight hair-
lined lips of her vagina, felt with his tongue the soft 
flanges of her vagina. She groaned lasciviously under 
him, wriggled her hips slightly. He took his thumbs and 
pressed her vagina apart so the secret cavern opened 
and the soft inner flesh came into view. It was pink 
and soft and secreted moisture, glistening and wet, 
appeared on the soft inner flesh of her thighs. He 
breathed into her and she groaned again, twisting her 
head from side to side on the softness of her husband's 
pillow.

He moved his mouth forward, his tongue feeling a 
passage for the rest of him, around her cuntal lips, 
into her softness, then pushed his face against the 
wetness of her vaginal slit. He felt her move to him, 
toward his face, and his tongue pushed into her open, 
waiting cunt. He felt weak from the pleasure her 
surrender gave him; the freshness of her, the pleasing 
female odor of her cunt. 

He breathed her up into his nostrils, plunging his 
tongue deep into her and she moaned and moved her naked 
loins more forcefully toward him. He moved his tongue 
within her, nipping at the tender flanges of flesh with 
his teeth between the thrusting in and out of his 
tongue, and soon he heard a soft moan building within 
her, then she violently flung herself upward, and 
screamed, "Ooooh, Ooooh," and ground her buttocks into 
the mattress and he probed deeper and deeper into her.

He stopped his probing, withdrew his lashing tongue and 
found the throbbing, hard clitoris and licked. Marily 
was going wild with pleasure under him, moving her hips 
in ever more violent motions, pushing her tongue into 
Peter's mouth and her breasts upwards to his face when 
he was alternately kissing and squeezing her there. She 
could never stop or turn aside the passion in her body 
at that moment. She squirmed and twisted and turned and 
threw herself at their hot, hungry searching mouths and 
tongues.

She felt the dam within her building for the break that 
was certain to come, and quickly. She wanted it to, 
tried to help it by her movements. She was thwarted, 
however. Peter and Hans changed places, slipping and 
sliding along her body, one on each side, and the 
newness of Han's lips on her was the next sensation she 
had, then the hands of Peter on her vagina, a gentle 
probing with his fingers, then his teeth along her 
inner thigh, and she quivered with pleasure and 
gratitude and anticipation.

She liked Hans, liked the feel of his tongue in her 
mouth, the soft caressing of her breasts from his 
hands. She ran her own hands over the hard, taut 
muscles of his back, then to the back of his head and 
pulled him into her, took his tongue fully into her 
mouth, and sucked it, slowly, then more violently. She 
could feel her body lathering with sweat, straining as 
it was to answer the urgent needs of the two mean 
laboring over her naked body.

Peter moved her unresisting legs apart and placed 
himself between them. He ran his hand over the full 
length of his prick, hardened like steel now, and 
rubbed the head of it with his thumb. It secreted a 
small amount of sticky seminal fluid showing the depth 
of his own lust and desire. Then, he took his hands 
away and it stood straight out from his body, rigid, 
throbbing so hard that he thought he could see the rate 
of his own heart beat by looking at it. 

He put his hands under Marily, taking into them the 
soft whiteness of her desire-quivering buttocks and 
pulled her loins apart, slightly, then moved forward so 
that he was ready to enter her. He dipped his body at 
the hips and placed the head of his pulsating cock on 
the lips of the wet, pink, vaginal opening. He pressed 
the soft, resilient crevice of her buttocks further 
apart with his hand and worked his finger into her 
anus, the soft spongy and rubbery tissue there opening 
slowly to his tender probing.

He lifted the whole of her hips toward him, then eased 
his cock into the warm pink flesh of her vagina, then 
rested, feeling her move against him slightly, then 
back off. He squeezed and massaged her wide-spread 
thighs and moved gently into her, the walls of her cunt 
sucking him on and on deeper and deeper into her. 

He gradually moved his body forward so that he was 
penetrating her almost completely, almost all the way, 
and the clasping, wet warmth there drove him almost 
crazy, cozily wrapped around his hard pulsating cock. 
He did not push the head all the way in, all the way to 
its deeply hidden nest, but stopped short of that and 
rested, then again massaged the writhing woman's 
thighs.

Marily, her mouth open wide in passion, felt every one 
of Peter's manipulations. His nibbling at her thighs 
had sent cold shivers of pleasure up her body, only to 
be replaced by hot desire. She grasped to her what she 
could of Hans, kept his tongue in her mouth and worked 
it, sucking and biting and kissing, and moved her 
breasts, which seemed to her to be seeking a solace all 
by themselves, toward him until he increased his 
massaging and squeezing of them. Her hands tore at his 
back, at the muscles and the hollows of it, as far down 
as she could reach.

She felt every nerve twitching, springing to life, all 
of them building a fire within her that she was sure 
could never be extinguished, no matter what was used to 
suffocate it. Then she felt the cheeks of her buttocks 
again being gently pulled apart by the strong hands of 
Peter and she wanted to push onto him, have him spear 
her without thought of pain to her, to fill her hungry, 
throbbing pussy with the total strength of him. 

She didn't however; he had done alright by her in her 
two previous experiences with him and she didn't want 
to spoil anything by her own inexperienced greed. She 
felt the rubbery head of his prick in her soft, 
yielding cunt and moaned, trying desperately to hold 
herself back and not to raise herself and take all of 
him into her, but to let him lead the way.

When she felt his large shaft wedging her apart, 
sliding into her fully, she could have died from the 
pleasure it gave her. She could not help herself, she 
moved up on him, drawing him into herself, she was 
angry that he did not grind into her, but had stopped 
and stayed an infinitesimal distance away from filling 
her completely. 

Then she felt his practiced hands on her, rubbing and 
squeezing and massaging and then again on the cheeks of 
her buttocks, pulling them apart and the finger that 
cautiously probed her anus and then entered, sending 
welcome pain to her. She bit Hans' lips, pushed her 
tongue into his mouth, then accepted his into her 
throat and hung on for dear life as she suddenly 
trembled from head to foot.

Peter knew that she was ready, that she wanted the 
whole of his lust-hardened cock in her, deep and that 
she wanted him to grind away, pounding into her, 
rocking her with his sexual power. But, he deliberately 
took it easy, even though it hurt him to do so, and 
moved in and out of her, never hitting all the way to 
the top of her cervix until she started responding to 
him, slithering her cunt up over his prick, trying with 
the walls and muscles of her vagina to swallow the 
whole of it, to take it deep within her churning belly.

He was on his knees, cupping her rounded buttocks in 
his hands, pulling her to him and away from him as he 
wished. And suddenly he could no longer take it and 
with a deep throated grunt, rammed into her all the 
way, until his balls smacked tight down against her 
exposed anus. He held for a moment, hearing her groan 
helplessly up into Hans' mouth.

Hans took his mouth from Marily's, moved his body on 
the bed so that he was straddling her chest, sitting 
atop her firm, heaving breasts. He could feel through 
her body the entrance of Peter, feel her heave when 
Peter plunged his big cock all the way into her. 

He put his hand behind her head and lifted it slightly, 
took his own long rigid cock in his other hand and 
guided it so that the head of it pressed against her 
lipstick covered lips. In spite of lust ridden desire, 
Marily tried to turn her head away, but he would have 
none of that. He opened her lips with his finger, and 
slowly guided the pulsating head of his prick toward 
her now open mouth.

Marily couldn't believe that Hans, a perfect stranger, 
would want her to do a thing like that and she tried to 
escape the mammoth hardness that he wanted her to suck. 
But, she couldn't. Then she remembered the warm, 
forbidden pleasure Peter's had given her and she 
relented, felt him open her lips with his finger, then 
the spongy head of his cock slipped into the warm, wet 
cavern of her mouth, rubbing with a slight stickiness 
on top of her tongue. 

She moved forward slightly when Peter rammed hard into 
her and then without warning her mouth was filled 
almost to the bursting point with Hans' hard rod of 
pulsating flesh. She closed her eyes and sucked, and 
tried not to gag, moving with abandoned desperation her 
hips against the wonderful fiery hardness within her 
and enjoyed the swiftly cruising pleasure that it gave 
her.

Peter began to fuck faster and faster in and out of her 
cunt, grinding at the top of her with every inward 
thrust. He could feel the warmness of her clutching at 
his hardened prick, sucking it into her, filling her 
whole slit. He buffeted in and out and ground and dug 
his hands into her, pulling her toward him, then away 
from him. He watched the hard, round tube of solid 
flesh coming out of her cunt, then sliding back in, 
glistening and wet and throbbing.

Hans pressed his cock further and further into her 
mouth, enjoying the pleasure it gave him to know that 
it was almost too much for her, the added pleasure he 
felt in his balls, the tingling there that demanded 
that he thrust into her mouth, deeper and deeper, until 
he was in up to the very root of his prick and he did 
so, slowly, feeling her buffeted upwards by Peter's 
hungry thrusts into her cunt. He leaned over and 
watched the hardness of him slipping into her red 
mouth, saw her lipstick covered lips creeping over the 
flesh of his hard cock, and gradually leaned and pushed 
all the way into her. 

She tried to move her head so that he would have to 
withdraw it, but he was too fast for her. He held onto 
her head firmly and pushed down until he felt his balls 
on her chin; he looked and was amazed at the smoothness 
of her complexion compared with the wrinkled skin of 
his sack. Then he began to plunge in and out of her, 
matching the rhythm that Peter had established plunging 
into her cunt. He was overjoyed when he felt her hands 
grab his waist and pull him into her. This, he knew, 
was the ultimate surrender and there was no turning 
back for the distraught housewife now.

Marily knew that she was going to cum. The two of them 
together using her body like a whore were just more 
than she could stand. She had not liked the huge prick 
of Hans in her mouth at first because it made it 
difficult for her to breathe; then that had changed, 
her excitement growing and getting away from her with 
every delicious thrust into her cunt from Peter down 
between wide-flung thighs. 

She had accepted the whole of Hans' prick, deep within 
her mouth, down her throat and was near to panic when 
he would not let her escape it. Then, without warning, 
she began to enjoy that as much as she did the feeling 
of Peter inside her. She felt the thrusting into her 
cunt and into her mouth and wondered dazedly if she 
were being torn apart by the two of them. Then the 
ecstasy of it all, the mounting sensations deep within 
her, began to explode and she sucked hungrily at Hans' 
hardened cock and clutched with the walls of her cunt 
at Peter.

She knew that Peter was getting ready to explode, that 
she was, but she had never expected Hans to erupt with 
his hot, burning semen into her throat, but he did. She 
felt her inner dam breaking and moved against Peter 
with a force that he was helpless to control, bothered 
as he was by his own mounting need to come, and then 
she was suddenly aware of an increased growing and 
throbbing of Hans' brick-hard prick in her mouth. 

She clutched and clawed and would have screamed out 
with pleasure if she could have when she felt herself 
going, losing control, her sensations suddenly bunching 
themselves deep in her womb and gathering to split 
apart. Peter plunged into her faster and faster and 
Hans tore at her throat and suddenly it was there. Her 
legs flailed out in the air, her nails bit into Hans' 
hips and she came, she broke, the whole of her orgasm 
flowing out with wild, abandoned force against Peter, 
who was hard inside her. 

He pushed into her forcefully and came, spewing his hot 
wetness over hers, filling her womb with thick, milk-
white fluid, then Hans burst in her mouth, scalding her 
throat with his hot, pungent semen, then pushed on into 
her and ground down hard against her lips, hurting 
them, because in his passion and force of orgasm they 
were pressed back against her nibbling teeth.

The three of them came together, the men greedily 
clutched at her, roughly grabbed her to them with their 
hands and bore into her, then slowly released her and 
all of them parted at the same time, Hans falling to 
one side of her, Peter leaning backwards and his 
deflated cock popping wetly out of her, then moving his 
body alongside hers. She felt like a queen, the two 
most handsome men she had even known resting with her, 
having exhausted themselves and her with lovemaking. 
She stroked their heads softly with her hands.

"You are a most wonderful woman, Marily," Hans said, 
his hand flat on her still heaving stomach. "Truly you 
are."

"The most wonderful," Peter said, raising up and 
kissing her mouth. "We love you, beautiful." He went 
back to his former position and moved his hand 
appreciatively over the whole length of her smooth, 
soft body.

Marily could say nothing. She felt like crying with 
happiness. She didn't know how she had lived so long 
(only twenty-four years) without knowing what the real 
unrestricted joys of sex could be. She felt so lucky to 
be there, to have them, both of them, that she wanted 
to cry.

Hans disturbed her mood. He excused himself, got off 
the bed and left the room. She smiled at the leanness 
of his buttocks as he disappeared through the door. 
Then he returned a moment later, his sex swinging in 
front of him, with three glasses of drinks. He put them 
on the bedside table, then moved his arm under her head 
and lifted it slightly, then helped her drink from one 
of the glasses. She smiled her thanks to him. He put 
the glass in her hand, then handed Peter one and took 
one for himself. Then he toasted her, each part of her, 
then they all drank to everything each of them had 
experienced in the few short minutes of their orgiastic 
three-way coupling.

The three of them lay, satiated, drinking the burning 
liquor, enjoying the nearness of each other, the 
fulfillment that each of them felt. Marily finished her 
drink, then her hand gripped the glass. She had not 
thought about Fred all evening and now he suddenly 
crowded in on her thoughts, filling her with shame.

"Oh, God," she cried, "What have I done?" Both of the 
men immediately began to soothe her, to try and give 
her comfort. "Don't worry about Fred, Marily, he's in 
Chicago. He won't be back until Tuesday. You know 
that."

"It isn't a matter of when he'll be back," she sobbed, 
"I'll never be able to face him no matter when he comes 
back."

"Marily," Hans spoke, giving that strange musical sound 
to her name, "We will all help Fred adjust. You shall 
see. My wife is now with someone else. Of that I am 
sure. I do not mind. Your Fred will not mind once he is 
included. You will see."

"You don't know my Fred, Hans. He will mind. He... he 
doesn't like sex like you... we do. He would never let 
himself be included." She was crying again just 
thinking about Fred's strict moral code and what he 
would think of her if he saw her now, laying in bed 
naked with a nude man on each side of her, drinking 
liquor. She shuddered.

"Marily, please," Peter said, kissing her on the mouth 
through her tears, "Trust me. I told you that we will 
see that Fred comes to appreciate you and all of us. 
You'll see. We'll manage it. Just trust me." He pulled 
her to him, his arms wrapped around her and loved her 
tenderly, kissing away the salty tears. "We've already 
got a plan worked out for Fred. He'll be a changed man 
by next weekend at Hans' house. That's where we're 
having the next party."

Marily couldn't believe--even though she wanted to 
trust Peter--that Fred would ever go to a sex party, 
would ever join the neighborhood club as apparently she 
had done. She was wondering what the plan might be to 
entrap him, when Peter kissed her hungrily, probing his 
tongue deep into her, searching her mouth for 
excitement. She forgot about Fred and responded, 
surprised that the fires were already, so soon, 
building within her again.

Peter kissed her long and hotly, then guided her hand 
down to his soft, deflated penis. Even resting, soft, 
it seemed to her bigger than Fred's. But, she had never 
put her hand on his sex, he never having invited her 
to. She rolled it about her closed hand, pressing into 
the side of it with her fingers, then moved her hand to 
his testicles. She was surprised at the feel of the 
soft sac of flesh. She had never before felt so free to 
know a man, to run her hand over him, to find out for 
herself what he was made of. 

Just the idea that she was doing that made her want to 
cry out for joy. She felt Hans adjusting himself 
between her legs. He lowered himself on top of her, the 
full length of his body, and kissed her breasts. He 
moved her legs together so that his prick lay on top of 
them softly and stroked her thighs with his hands.

Marily felt wonderful. She kissed and sucked at Peter's 
lips and tongue and moved her legs so that she could 
feel Hans' prick against each leg. She continued to 
massage and handle Peter's cock, which was fast 
beginning to lengthen and harden. And, she loved the 
feel of Hans' mouth on her breasts. She massaged the 
back of his neck, his head, and moved her hand over his 
blond, silken hair.

She enjoyed the slow and kind nature of their 
manipulations until both of them were rock hard again. 
Peter was kissing her more violently and Hans was 
biting and squeezing her soft white breasts. As if by 
signal both of them stopped, Hans moved her legs and 
placed himself between them, moved them further apart 
and placed his hands on the inside of her thighs and 
used his finger to slowly spread the lips of her cunt 
apart.

He took one hand and put it on his extremely long, 
white rod of flesh and ran his thumb over the head of 
it. Marily couldn't believe that he was so big, that 
she could be expected to take all of that huge tool 
inside her little soft pussy, but a part of her mind 
told her that she could, that he wasn't any larger 
there than Peter was, that she wanted him to, to ram 
into her with all his might and push it all the way up 
inside her. She moaned in an almost tortured 
anticipation.

Hans lifted her legs, put the head of his hard prick to 
the lips of her vagina and eased himself in, the 
passage warm and soft and wet. Marily groaned and took 
all of him into, seemingly, the very depths of her 
being, and enjoyed the feel of him there. He stayed 
inside her, not moving, not plunging in and out, and 
kissed her breasts. Then he took her in his arms and 
rolled over, bringing her on top of him as he did so.

Suddenly Peter was behind her, kissing her back, 
massaging the curved mounds of her soft, resilient 
buttocks and pushing her up and down onto Hans. Then, 
spreading the smooth white mounds he used his finger to 
tease and then enter her anus. She gasped with pain 
when his finger slipped inside her, then moved back 
onto it, enjoying the strange, forbidden thrill that it 
gave her.

She could feel the head of his cock probing the soft, 
rubbery tissue of the tight resisting hole, but she had 
no idea whether or not he wanted to or would be able to 
enter her there. Then, he did, gradually, causing her 
pain that she had never felt the equal of, just the 
head of his prick, then he reached around her and took 
her breasts in his hands and squeezed and rubbed her 
nipples between his fingers. 

She began to relax, somewhat, the feeling of Hans 
inside her, her lips bent to his, her tongue in his 
mouth, getting massaged and sucked by him. She could 
feel herself coming ablaze deep inside and started her 
motions up and down on Hans' large impaling prick 
faster and faster.

Suddenly, Peter grunted behind her and thrust his hard 
cock all the way into the soft rubbery walls of her 
rectum, pulling savagely on her tits to prevent her 
from moving away from him. She felt indescribable pain. 
It rocked her from her middle to her head and down her 
legs into her toes. All movement stopped. She sat 
still, getting used to the pain of the two of them, 
then Peter leaned his stomach against her back, kissed 
her neck and said, "You'll like this after a while. I'm 
going to move in and out a bit and you tell me if it 
hurts too much." He moved a bit more into her, then 
slowly pulled out, then pushed his prick back into her 
rectum, then repeated the same thing again, kissing and 
nibbling at her neck at the same time. 

And suddenly, for some indescribable reason, it felt 
right to her, moving it at the same time into her soft 
slit, then Peter behind her moving in perfect harmony 
with Hans, so that the heads of their cocks seem to 
meet and press together with only a thin tissue of her 
soft, pink flesh separating the two of them. She rocked 
up and down and was pulled up and down by both Peter 
and Hans. She could feel the hardness sluice into her 
stomach from behind and the hardness glide through the 
softness of her cunt and her joy was fantastic and 
beyond all imagination.

She thought she could sense the swelling of both their 
hardnesses, the large heads of their cocks seeming to 
expand inside her and she felt her own need burning 
again, deep within her and she speared herself onto 
Hans, and at the same time onto Peter and ground the 
two of them deep within her. She glued her mouth to 
Hans' mouth, his tongue filled hers, and Peter 
tightened his grip on her soft breasts.

She rose up and down and was pulled up and down until 
she felt her insides exploding, the hotness spreading 
over the head of Hans' still plunging cock, and she 
worked harder, emitting a moan that propelled both of 
them into greater bucking and plunging into her and 
suddenly it was there, all of it emptied once again 
from within her, causing an animal cry to escape her 
lust-tortured throat. 

She went limp between them, and seconds later they both 
spewed into her, Hans' hot sperm filling the upmost 
cavern of her throbbing vagina and Peter shooting into 
her bowels, hotly, then clawing at her and grinding and 
pushing and plowing and then falling weakly against 
her, emitting a small, helpless, deep-throated groan.

They rested, Hans under her and Peter still lodged deep 
in her sperm-filled rectum, then she felt the softening 
of them, then the slow withdrawal of Peter, then she 
moved slowly off Hans and felt him slip wetly out of 
her. She moved off him, lay alongside him on the bed, 
her breathing deep and calm. She couldn't remember when 
she had felt so satisfied, so spent.

The three of them lay quietly for what seemed like a 
long time, then Peter announced that he would get 
drinks. He hopped off the bed, went through the door, 
and disappeared. Marily turned her head, looked at Hans 
and said, "Are you sure your wife doesn't mind that you 
are here? I think that if I were your wife, I would 
mind. I really do."

Hans smiled, then turned sideways and put his arm 
across her. "You will not mind when your husband is 
with another woman. You will see. We will use my 
beautiful wife to seduce your husband into pleasure. I 
do not mind that. No." He kissed her gently on the 
mouth.

It was too much for Marily to fathom. She could 
visualize Fred's reaction if he should discover her 
there, with Peter and Hans. He'd never recover from the 
shock. Nor, she told herself, would she. She gently 
moved Hans' arm and got off the bed and went into the 
bathroom. Suddenly she felt like a shower, wanted and 
needed one. She automatically started to undress, then 
giggled remembering that she was nude and had been for 
sometime, then stepped into the shower. 

She lathered her whole body, touched her breasts 
gingerly, smoothed her hands over them, then rinsed off 
the soap and stepped out from under the steaming water. 
Marily dried herself carefully, powdered her body and 
used some risqué perfume that she had not dared to use 
before, then draped a towel around her, over her 
breasts and around her curvaceous buttocks, then re-
entered the bedroom. Hans and Peter sat on the bed, 
sipping their drinks. They both looked up, whistled, 
and patted the bed for her to sit down. She walked 
toward them, then stopped just at the edge of the bed. 
Peter reached out, yanked the towel with his hand, and 
laughingly tossed it to Hans.

Hans took the towel, said, standing and bowing, "If I 
may be permitted?"

Marily nodded her approval and Hans slipped into the 
bathroom. She laughed and Peter grabbed her and pulled 
her to him on the bed, propped her against him, and put 
a glass in her hand.

"We'll go back over to the house very soon. I might 
like to freshen up a little if Hans doesn't drown 
himself in there." He kissed her. "My but you are clean 
and fresh," He said, biting into her soft flesh.

"And you're vulgar and dirty," she laughed, kissing his 
mouth.

"Peter," she asked seriously, "How can I face Vivian 
again? I would hate any woman who came into my house 
and took my husband away, especially if he were you. 
And don't laugh at me, please. I'm serious. I just 
don't think that I can face her."

"You innocent lamb," Peter said, moving his hand up and 
down her arm. "Vivian started this 'neighborhood club' 
herself. Don't worry about her. She likes you. She 
really does. And, she likes Fred, too. Just don't worry 
about it."

"May I ask you something, Peter?" Marily inquired, 
hesitantly.

"Shoot," he told her.

"Well... is Vivian older than you? I know that's a kind 
of bitchy question, but I'm serious."

"Yes, she is. Seven years older. Why?" He seemed 
puzzled.

"No reason. I thought so tonight, seeing the two of you 
together for the first time and I thought that it just 
might be the witch in me thinking such things about her 
just because she's your wife and I was afraid to ask 
you but..." Marily hurried on, fearing that she was 
hurting his feelings.

Peter stopped her with a kiss. "I love her, Marily. 
Very much. She worked hard and put me through law 
school and she is a perfect wife. Sure, she talks all 
the time and I don't know half the time what's she said 
or even what's she saying, but that doesn't bother me. 
She's very tolerant and she returns my love and she 
respects me. So." He pushed himself up and indicated 
that he was going into the bathroom.

Hans pushed through the door, no towel wrapped around 
him, and tossed the towel to Peter. "Get Marily a 
drink, you German bum," Peter joked, then closed the 
door to the bathroom quickly. Hans shrugged his 
shoulders, then went to the kitchen for drinks. He 
returned shortly and handed a full glass to Marily. 
They sat, quietly, looking into the mirror at the foot 
of the bed, and drank.

Peter bounded through the door of the bathroom, 
shiningly clean, yelled, "Up! Up! Dress! Dress! We have 
to go back to my house and get in on the drawing. 
Quick!" he ordered, popping the towel at them.


-= Chapter 6 =-

Marily marveled at her unconcern in dressing before the 
two men, each of them watching her, Peter taking her 
brassiere and panties and smiling and tossing them 
aside and telling her that she didn't need them, 
wouldn't need them the rest of the week-end. She felt 
strangely satisfied, somehow calm and peaceful. She 
wanted to draw the whole world to herself and embrace 
it, hold it in her arms and stand and caress it.

She meekly let herself be led out of her own home by 
Peter and Hans and across the patio to the next patio 
and into his house. She thought at first that the party 
had somehow broken up, that most of the people had gone 
home. There were only four people in the living room, 
each of which Peter and Hans greeted profusely and 
spoke in front of her of her accomplishments and 
beautiful body. She blushed deeply.

Roy, a middle-aged but still handsome man said, "Peter, 
fix the drawing so that I can be with Marily." He 
laughed, slapping Peter on the back. Marily was 
horrified. The idea of a drawing in which she was the 
prize did not set well with her. She turned her back on 
them and started for the kitchen. Peter was just 
behind, took her in his arms and apologized for Roy's 
'crudeness.' "He must have forgotten that you are here 
for the first time, Marily. I'm sorry." He held her in 
his arms and kissed her lightly, then, "Come on, let's 
make drinks for everyone. We'll have everyone in the 
living room in..." he looked at his watch, "exactly 
seven minutes."

It took just about seven minutes to make the drinks. 
Marily was aware of the increased noise and 
conversation in the other room, the one she had left 
shortly before. She hoped that she wouldn't be timid 
about facing them, prayed that what Peter had told her 
about Vivian not minding would be true. She knew that 
that would be her who was married to Peter.

Peter kissed her on the nose, then put a tray of drinks 
in her hands, said, "O.K.?" and then they went back to 
the living room. Marily heard Vivian's voice above 
everyone's and hesitated, then took a deep breath and 
walked into their midsts.

"Oh, what a lovely creature and all the time for nearly 
two months living and being next door and all kinds of 
doubts assailed me about asking her over and Peter, you 
sly dog you, and we're all ready and the second and 
last evens are made up and we'll all drink and then 
we'll draw and it is a good idea which is Peter's that 
we re-assemble and hope and speculate before the next 
one so here's to all and one."

Vivian stopped talking long enough to swallow a small 
amount from the glass that Marily had served her. 
Everyone joined in the toast, all of them drank deeply.

The concoction was delicious, Marily decided, drinking 
hers hesitantly at first, then taking more each time, 
enjoying the faint burning and soothing sensation that 
it gave her. She wondered what was in the drink that 
she had never tasted before, but then she decided that 
she didn't care. She held out her glass for a re-fill 
when Hans passed among the guests and replenished their 
glasses. She smiled warmly and secretly to Anna. It 
made her feel good.

Suddenly Anna, Han's wife, started toward her. Marily 
had almost forgotten about her. She had the impulse to 
turn and flee, but she couldn't. She stood still and 
the nerves that controlled her to move suddenly froze. 
She tried to return the smile that Anna gave her, but 
it was impossible.

"Well, Marily, welcome to the club. Was Hans a devil 
with you?" Her green eyes were fastened on Marily; her 
smile was genuine and sincere.

"I... no... I don't..." Marily stuttered, suddenly 
angry with herself for her own stupidity. She had never 
been so embarrassed in her life.

"I understand, Marily. There is a first time for 
everything. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so blunt. 
Let's sit down." She took Marily's arm and guided her 
to a chair in the dining room. "Look," she said, 
sitting her beautiful self onto a straight-backed 
chair, "I understand that I'm to be instrumental in 
helping your husband to join. Tell me what he's like."

Marily's thoughts, suddenly directed to Fred, caused 
her to laugh, and relax. "I don't know what to say, 
really, Anna. We've been married two years and..." she 
hesitated, then continued, feeling the sincerity of the 
woman sitting there as though it were a physical 
presence. "He's very conservative. And he's not... well 
he really doesn't seem to enjoy sex. Not like Peter 
and... your husband." She blushed deeply, her face 
suddenly burning like fire.

Anna laughed softly, patted Marily's arm. "I know what 
you mean. Hans was the same way. I don't suppose either 
of them bothered to tell you, but I joined the club 
before Hans did. Our marriage was on the point of 
breaking up, Marily, and then we found this. I used to 
be a legal secretary in the same building with Peter. 
He introduced me to the club, then arranged for Hans to 
come in. They have become very good friends, as you can 
see." 

She smiled and tilted her beautiful head and looked at 
the two men, standing tall above everyone in the room, 
laughing and joking with each other.

Marily couldn't find words to express her gratitude to 
the lovely Anna. She couldn't believe that she could 
ever come to be as self-assured, as self-contained as 
Anna was. She could find nothing to say to her; she 
felt that anything she might try would sound stupid and 
awkward. She remained silent and listened to Vivian.

"Marily, Marily where are you you lovely creature come 
and you are first no matter what anyone says about 
anything and the small amount of cheating that I'm 
doing she's our very special guest and..." She babbled 
on, coming to Marily and holding out a box in front of 
her with small pieces of white paper, folded, inside 
it. "Take your pick, Marily, but just one and then 
we'll announce the number and then we'll watch the man 
scramble for the matching odd or even." She smiled at 
Marily.

Marily's trembling hand reached into the shallow depth 
of the box and took a piece of paper from it. She 
didn't know what to do, what was expected of her. She 
got the general idea that she was to read the number as 
Vivian went on talking, never stopping, never seeming 
to need to breathe like other humans did. "... Read it, 
Dear, for all to hear." She ran down and stood silently 
waiting for Marily to read the number from the slip of 
paper.

"Thirty-three," Marily whispered, frightened of the 
number for some reason, alarmed that she was suddenly 
the center of attention.

"Thirty-three, thirty-three," Vivian sang, turning back 
into the crowd and passing among them the box so that 
they could draw. Marily turned to Anna for help and an 
explanation.

"Oh, you've never done this before. I forgot. Vivian or 
Peter should have explained it to you. You have an odd 
number, so that whoever, rather whichever, man gets the 
even number in the thirties will be your companion for 
the rest of the evening. We're just trying this system. 
We used to draw only once in the beginning, then return 
the slips to the box. But, for this week-end we're 
trying something new. I think I like it."

Anna sat, smiled at her, and opened her own slip of 
paper. "I'm very lucky, Marily. I got number forty-
five."

"I don't think that I can just be selected by a strange 
man and... just leave with him in front of all these 
people," Marily said, taken aback by the brashness of 
the whole idea.

"Oh, no, it's not done that way. You'll find that each 
room upstairs is numbered, say ten, twenty, thirty, 
etc. You just go there when you feel like it. Excuse 
me, I want to talk to Hans." She smiled, stood and 
walked away.

Marily knew that she was going home. She suddenly felt 
the overpowering need to be away, to get her thoughts 
in order. She stood, deciding not to say anything to 
anyone, just to slip out the back door and go to her 
own house. She just wasn't up to what was expected of 
her. She got as far as the kitchen. Peter stopped her 
by taking her arm.

"Let me get your drink for you, Love," he said, taking 
her empty glass from her hand. He went around the small 
breakfast nook and opened the refrigerator and took the 
full pitcher from it, poured her glass full to the 
brim, did the same with his own, then handed hers to 
her. He kissed her lightly, just brushing her lips with 
his. "Marily, we have everyone here this week, which 
makes it a little crowded, so I volunteered your house. 
I felt that you might be more at ease there so thirty 
is your bedroom. Okay?"

"Peter, I... can't. I mean... I was just going home 
now. I... I don't know how I'm ever going to face 
Fred." Suddenly she was crying, then just as suddenly 
she was in his arms, against him, he protecting and 
soothing her with his hands and strength.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I guess we're too much for you, 
coming all at once--no pun intended. I'll take you 
home," he said, leading her out the door. He took her 
to her own house. Marily couldn't stop crying. Peter 
soothed her and helped her into bed, kissing and 
touching and patting her; he placed her head gently on 
a pillow and told her that he would be back, for her to 
just relax, and finish her drink. He kissed her and 
left.

Marily lighted a cigarette, sipped at her drink and her 
tears gradually subsided. She put out the cigarette, 
then sank into the bed and dozed. She was awakened by 
deep throated laughter, heard the tread of feet in the 
hallway, then looked up to see Peter standing in the 
door, his smile showing to perfection his white teeth; 
his arm was around the shoulders of Roy.

"Marily, look who I brought you. A real prince." They 
advanced toward her. She shrank back into the bed, a 
feeling of utter hopelessness overpowering her. She had 
thought that Peter liked her, had even hoped that he 
loved her as she did him, and now she was horrified 
that he would bring in another man, to her bedroom, to 
enjoy her as he had done only a short while ago. She 
was suddenly deeply hurt.

Peter knew instinctively what was going through her 
mind. He went directly to her, took her in his arms in 
one sweeping gesture and kissed her profoundly. She 
responded without wanting to, clinging to him, his hot 
mouth burning hers, wanting to hold him so tight that 
he would never get away.

Marily soon was lost, caught up in the ecstasy of 
Peter's love. He felt her need for re-assurance, knew 
that he alone could provide it for her. He held her 
close to him, kissed her mouth, her eyes, her nose and 
fondled her breasts. He did find time to motion to Roy 
to get undressed and into the bed.

Marily felt the bed sag on the opposite side from where 
Peter's weight was, but for some reason--because Peter 
was there and was holding and kissing her--it made no 
difference. She had begun to feel the fires inside her 
building again, had started to need badly Peter's hard 
love inside her. Peter eased himself from her arms, 
gently and with concern, and said, smoothing his hand 
over her forehead, "Marily, be good to Roy. He is a 
good friend." He saw her brow wrinkle, knew that she 
was becoming frightened again, so he said, "Roy, hold 
her, she's a bit shy this first time."

Marily felt herself being taken into the arms of the 
total stranger who was in her bed. She wanted to 
resist, to cry out, but Peter was asking her to do 
this, for him. She couldn't sort it all out in her 
mind, but she knew that she would do whatever he wanted 
her to do, so she let herself relax in the arms of Roy. 
She was instantly aware of his nakedness, against her, 
the length of her legs; she could feel the hair on him. 
It bristled against her.

"Kiss her, Roy," Peter said, softly, withdrawing 
himself totally from her.

Roy did. He took Marily to him, then put his mouth onto 
hers, pressed his lips into her and ran his hand down 
her back, over the white mounds, the naked buttocks, 
delighted in the softness of them. He wanted to rush 
himself into her, to kiss and fuck and plow and pump, 
but he held himself back, followed the advice Peter had 
given him on the way over. He took it slowly, exploring 
every delicious curve and crevice of her, from her neck 
to her thighs.

For both of them, suddenly and together, they realized 
that Peter was gone. He had been there for Marily, his 
presence lending credence to what she was doing because 
she was doing it more to please him than for her own 
pleasure, watching and guiding her. For Roy he had been 
there as a warning to him to follow his instructions 
and not frighten or scare the girl. Then, he was gone. 
Neither of them had heard him leave or had been aware 
of his departure. Realizing this fact, they laughed 
together, Marily shyly, then more forcefully, along 
with Roy.

Roy wasted no more time. He knew that Marily had 
accepted him, wanted him, so he moved his body onto her 
and began to kiss her in earnest, his mouth pressed 
into her, his tongue over her lips and between her 
teeth and into her mouth and back, then withdrew it 
slowly, almost all the way out and felt her hold on it, 
her refusing to let it get away from her. He ran it in 
and out of her mouth, gently, then more quickly, and 
delighted in her response.

Marily felt his hardening on her stomach, felt his 
tongue probing impatiently into her mouth. She had 
taken it, liked the feeling of it, and sucked it into 
her. Then he had started to withdraw it, she felt, and 
that she did not want, could not give up the pleasure 
it gave her. She caught it with her teeth before he 
could deny her its pleasure. She moved her body 
slightly upward, pressing her soft white stomach into 
his rising prick, loving the hardness of it.

Roy squeezed and massaged and tore at her buttocks, 
felt her squirm and raise up to press into his ever 
lengthening hardness. He pushed down into her stomach, 
wanting to slip into her soft pink cunt, but knowing 
that he would not, could not, as yet. He moved his 
mouth from her, kissed her chin, then moved his body 
slightly so that his head was above her beautiful, firm 
breasts. He kissed one, then the other, then licked 
them with his tongue, feeling the sensations that he 
caused there flicking into her body then out again to 
the surface and onto his.

He kissed and bit and slavered like a child at her 
tits, then put his mouth over the nipple, sucked and 
worked it with his tongue until he felt it spring to 
life, bursting to hardness and rigidity against his 
tongue. He worked at both of them, could feel the 
quivering that his hot mouth caused.

Marily could not control her feeling, her response to 
Roy. His sucking and biting and teasing of her breasts, 
then her nipples, sent strange, uncontrolled electric 
pleasure through her. She wanted to push them into him, 
make him take the whole of them in his mouth to bite 
and suck and burn her. She grabbed his head with her 
hands and looked at him, at the top of his busy moving 
head. His hair was streaked with silver gray and it was 
soft and silky under her hands. She loved the color of 
it, the softness of it, and the pleasure it gave her to 
push him onto her. She moved her hands to his muscled 
back, ran them the whole length of it, then back to his 
head. She felt his pole like prick on her stomach, 
wanted to spread her legs and suck it into her burning 
cunt. But, she didn't want to be forward, to have him 
think that she was like a common whore. She would just 
be patient and make herself enjoy and appreciate his 
busy mouth on her breasts.

Roy moved his mouth from her breasts, moved his head 
down her body and kissed the softness of her stomach 
where only a minute ago the hardness of his prick had 
lain. Her hands still pressed down on his head, felt 
like butterflies on his back, and he continued on, 
taking small bites of her flesh in his teeth and 
feeling her rising up to meet his every action, kissed 
her lower stomach, just above the soft mound of her 
vagina. He liked the feel of her soft, sparse pubic 
hair on his chin.

He took her legs, moved them apart, and moved his mouth 
down to her cunt. He spread the soft, hair-lined lips 
with his fingers, then probed gently around them with 
his tongue. He was awarded by the pressure of her hands 
on his head. They drew him forward with all their 
strength. He pushed his tongue on into the soft 
pinkness, then withdrew it and started the same process 
all over again. He heard her moan, starting low inside 
her chest then traveling through her, somehow emitting 
itself from her throat and changing into a higher note 
of sensual anticipation.

He turned his body upside down, never taking his mouth 
from her tender opening, until his feet stuck above her 
head. Then he raised his head slightly, moved his arms 
so that they were under her hips and his hands were 
cupping the smooth flesh of her buttocks, pulling them 
slightly apart, and lifted her crotch to his face. 
Then, felt her hands move teasingly over his own 
buttocks, then slide around to his balls, kneading 
them, almost causing him to cry out in pleasure, then 
the softness of them closing over his lust-hardened 
cock. 

His pleasure knew no bounds when he felt the smooth 
rubbery head being hesitantly probed at by her tongue. 
He did not force his cock into her, but let her get 
used to it, to slowly feed it into her own mouth. He 
kept his own tongue busy inside her soft vaginal slit, 
in and out, in and out, then took the soft clitoris 
with his teeth.

She bucked upwards toward his mouth, then, with a 
soulful groan, sucked his cock into her own. He kept 
hold of the clitoris, maneuvering it with his teeth and 
tongue, and pushed his hips slowly so that she would 
take all of his huge throbbing cock into the warm, wet 
confines of her mouth.

Marily wiggled and moved her hips under him with the 
first realization that he was kissing her pussy. She 
was not surprised when he moved his body so that his 
prick was in her face. She had been silently wishing 
that he would allow her to kiss him there, but had 
certainly had no intention of doing so without his 
asking. 

She was aware of the movement of his body, the turning 
of it, so that she opened her eyes and saw the hugeness 
of his prick there for her. She placed her hands on his 
buttocks, which were hard and muscular, so unlike her 
soft female ones that it seemed to be nothing but knots 
of muscles. She ran her hand over it, down the crack of 
it, then moved them around to his balls. 

She enjoyed the feel of them in her hands. They felt 
like tender, soft eggs to her. Then she had touched his 
large, pulsating organ, had squeezed it in both her 
hands, and had not managed to cover even part of it. 
She looked at the large, purple head and saw a speck of 
moisture seeping through it and had wanted it in her 
mouth, wanted to enjoy the taste of it with the tip of 
her tongue. 

She kissed it, slowly, then guided the head into her 
mouth, over her tongue and between her teeth. It was 
too large for her. Her jaws were sore, used as they had 
been by Peter and Hans, so she had stopped it there, 
only a third of it in her mouth yet still touching the 
back of her throat. She moaned softly around it and 
began a gentle sucking motion with her lips.

Then she had felt the delicious biting of her clitoris. 
It had caused pains of pleasure to shoot into her, to 
consume her to the secret depths of her vagina. She 
felt his insistent push on into her mouth and she tried 
to accommodate him, had opened and let the huge pole be 
pushed into her throat. Then suddenly without warning, 
her loins were on fire from the probing and biting by 
Roy's hot, wet mouth and he was moving his prick in and 
out of her mouth and her arms were wrapped around his 
hips drawing him into her and wanting him to stay there 
forever.

Roy could never in his wildest dreams imagine that she 
could be as good as she was. He loved eating her tight 
little cunt, sliding his rough tongue into it, all the 
way, feeling the pressure and the clean, sweet tasting 
moisture from the lips and the walls of her pink, hot 
pussy. 

He had been a little surprised when she had taken the 
whole of his prick inside her mouth, had enjoyed the 
tightness as it slipped further and further into her 
throat, felt the constriction of pressure on the head 
of it until it suddenly slipped in, in and down, just 
as he nibbled and chewed at her clitoris. He began to 
move his hips, back and forward, then felt her rising 
pelvis slapping up wildly into his face, he had moved 
his prick in faster and faster, then slowed his motions 
when he felt her arms tightly encircle his ass.

He increased his licking and biting and sucking of her 
cunt, and his own motion in and out of her mouth, until 
he felt her building up to orgasm. And suddenly it was 
there for him too, in his balls, a tightening and 
preparedness to explode. He lashed into her with his 
tongue, probing and withdrawing, and his hands worked 
at her anus, tearing and probing and working deep into 
the rubbery tightness, and he increased his plunging 
into her until he felt her ready, felt the nerves 
inside her collect and draw themselves together for the 
final sparking of the fuse, then he jerked his body 
violently and moved one leg over her head and pounded 
into her mouth with all his might and force and bit and 
chewed and sucked her cunt. 

He felt her whole body tense and come up to meet his at 
the same time he felt the need to come. Then it was 
there. He ground his tongue deep into her and his prick 
plunged all the way down her tender throat and he 
ground down on that, and her whole body gave an 
earthshaking tremble and jerked in wild spasms and then 
he came, the release erupting from him, seeming to come 
from all his muscles, the shooting out of him of all 
the strength that he was sure he would ever possess.

Marily was going wild with his tongue lashing into her 
soft, tight cunt and the hugeness of his overly large 
cock in her mouth, filling it absolutely full, then 
into her throat and suddenly he was moving faster, in 
and out of her, shoving his prick all the way down into 
her. She had felt the movement of him so fast that she 
had not realized what was happening until her head was 
between his legs and he pushed even more of his hard 
pulsating prick into the small passage of her throat. 
Suddenly her insides had gathered together for the mad 
relief that she knew must come and she could not help 
but move toward the tongue that was inflicting such 
painful pleasure on her. 

Her mouth was being used cruelly, she felt that her 
throat was being torn apart, and then he had plunged 
more fully into her, then wildly until she came, then 
he had done so immediately, filling her sucking mouth 
with his hot sperm, burning and sliding over and down 
her throat. Her pleasure was ten fold that she had ever 
experienced before. Her whole body had rocked with it, 
jolt after jolt, until she had fully flowed, deep 
within herself, and had the welcome relief that she now 
lay in and enjoyed.

She felt the slow softening of Roy's cock against her 
tongue, then his slow movement upwards, then the 
slippery withdrawal of it from her mouth, over her 
lips, the large head seeming reluctant to quit its deep 
pleasure. Then it was gone, away from her contact, and 
the bed moved and she felt his arms on her body, his 
hands moving along her and stopping at her breasts, 
then his head was above her and he came softly to her 
lips with his own and kissed her gently, then lay his 
head down beside hers.

"Wonderful," he whispered. "Wonderful."

"Yes," Marily agreed. "Wonderful."

"Put your hand on my cock," he whispered, guiding it 
there as he spoke.

Marily felt the delightful softness of him, still wet 
from her saliva and his sperm, and she let her hand 
rest on his cock. It felt wonderful to her. She 
squeezed it, lightly, then to her surprise it responded 
to her caress and hardened just a bit. She continued 
squeezing it, each time feeling it become harder and 
harder, and he began to kiss her, first her shoulder, 
then her neck, then he raised himself up and kissed her 
mouth.

Before long it was all there again, her need and 
desire. His hands were on her breasts, his tongue 
filling her mouth, her own little cunt undergoing 
movements of its own, opening and closing fish-like 
down between her thighs. He moved his hand down her 
body, between her thighs and ran his fingers into her, 
moving the lips apart. She moaned softly again and 
moved her hips up to meet the rough fingers, but he did 
not push them into her fully.

"What do you want, Marily?" he asked, breathing 
heavily.

"You in me, Roy," she breathed, realizing that she had 
spoken his name for the first time.

"Then ask me to fuck you," he said.

"Do it, Roy. Do it. Fuck me. Oh, God, fuck me," she 
said, the lewd words exciting her more.

Roy brushed the softness of her pubic hair aside and 
parted the lips of her vagina with his fingers, then 
had her guide the head of his hardened cock to the 
opening he had made there for it. She had grabbed him 
frantically, her nails digging into the sides of his 
cock and unerringly put the head into her soft, waiting 
slit. Then she moaned. Roy pushed his hips forward 
slightly, just slipping the head past the warm, 
clasping lips, and Marily groaned as though she were 
being split apart. 

He kissed her, probing his tongue into her mouth. She 
took it immediately and sucked it deep into her, then 
he shoved in further with his cock, about half of it, 
and she moaned under him again. He gently eased it in, 
all the way, then rested inside her, throbbing against 
her deep insides, enjoying the comforting closeness of 
her warm, wet walls throbbing around his prick. He 
kissed her.

Marily had felt the huge wedge being forced into her, 
knew that he was stretching her beyond reason, but 
realized that she could take him, all of him into her, 
that she loved the feeling, that she could never be 
able to get enough of him. She knew that he was bigger 
than either Peter or Hans and she had to admit, as she 
gnashed and sucked his tongue, that he was better, was 
not so impatient, knew more than either of them did. 
She began to burn inside as he slowly pulled out of 
her, felt the million little fires that were ignited 
within her cunt, inflamed by the vacuum he left there.

Roy withdrew from her, then eased his solidly hard 
prick back into her, pushed deep down into her belly, 
imagining that he could feel all the heat of her 
stomach resting on top of his hardened rod of flesh. 
Then, patiently, he started a rocking motion, in and 
out, that he knew would bring her quickly to a 
demanding need of him, a need that she would not be 
able to fight.

He did nothing more than that, just pushed his big cock 
into her, the head's largeness and softness, gently 
opening the walls for the rest of his passage, then 
drew out, then just as gently pushed in again. He 
kissed her, massaged her back and squeezed her curved 
mounds with his hands, then released them and ran his 
hands back up her as he withdrew.

Marily's pleasure was indescribable. She loved the 
coming into her by him, his hardness pushing 
relentlessly into her, then not resting but 
withdrawing, his rhythm in her cunt matched by the 
magic of his hands on her back and buttocks. She 
wallowed in the pleasure it gave her, sucked gently on 
his tongue and took it deep within her as he pushed in 
his prick, then sucked it as he withdrew its wetness 
again. Her body began to change, slowly, a dam of need 
rose deep in her belly with his every plunge and 
withdrawal. She began to move under him, to help him 
slide more easily into her and to satisfy her own 
rapidly increasing lust.

Roy felt her moving under him, knew that her rate of 
breathing was increasing slowly, and he accommodated 
her ever so slightly by moving in and out just a bit 
faster, nothing that she would notice he was doing, but 
faster just the same. Suddenly she bucked under him, 
threw her cunt into his hard prick as he was 
withdrawing from her. 

He knew that her moment had come, that she was ready 
for the total assault on her tight little pussy that he 
planned to give her. He pushed his pole-hard prick all 
the way into her slightly, then withdrew. He repeated 
the same thing twice more, was satisfied with her happy 
groan of pleasure under him, then withdrew his mouth 
from hers and asked into her ear, "Do you like it?"

"Yes! Yes, oh yes!" Marily moaned moving under him and 
clawing at his back.

"Then ask me to fuck you, ask me to fuck you," he 
encouraged her gently.

"Do, Roy, do fuck me," she cried, thrusting onto him, 
skewering her burning cunt up the full length of his 
rock hard cock.

Roy slipped his hands down her back, between the cleft 
of her smooth ass, fingered her rectum and then 
continued down, over her thighs, locked his arms, under 
her knees and raised her legs up over her, past her 
stomach and moved himself up slightly, and directed her 
legs up his arms, almost to his shoulders, then moved 
into her, deliberately withholding some of his hard 
prick from her sucking cunt.

"Oh, oooh," she moaned under him, every crevice of her 
vagina feeling filled to overflowing with his hardness.

Roy ordered her to ask for it, to beg him for his 
prick, as much for his own pleasure as to get her to 
open up somewhat, to cast off some of her holding back 
that he had seen her display the first part of the 
evening and further when he had joined her in bed.

"Fuck me, oh please fuck me," she responded, into the 
hollow of his neck, flailing her head back and forth, 
pulling and tearing at his back.

Sensing her desperation, Roy tightened his muscles, dug 
his toes into the bed, and plunged into her, fully, 
thrusting his hard pole into the innermost secret part 
of her, felt her pussy tighten around his hardness, 
then relax and gobble the head of his throbbing cock 
deep inside, then close warmly around it. Marily 
screamed under him, her hands stopped their drawing and 
clawing at his well-muscled back, then she lay still, 
sucking in deep breaths of air.

He moved out, gently, and then plunged back in slowly, 
only half-way; her hands returned to his back, her legs 
stopped quivering, and he readied himself again, slowly 
pushed into her, felt the same delightful sensation of 
going into her deeply and the fitting around the head 
of his huge prick the very, very before unpenetrated 
part of her, and she responded, again her hands pulling 
him toward and into her.

"Beg! Beg me, Marily," he told her.

Marily would have eaten live coals to satisfy her need. 
She was assaulted by desire originating in her cunt, 
then from her breasts, her mouth, her buttocks and her 
legs. She thrust upwards at him, begged, "Fuck me. Fuck 
me with your delicious cock, fuck me in the cunt with 
it, darling... please... oh please!"

Roy rewarded her by grinding into her, emphatically, 
each time she shrieked out one of the obscene words 
that were so new to her. He could feel himself building 
up, knew that she was, so he ground down, deep into 
her, and she yelled "Oooh, fuck my cunt," and he 
plunged, grinding, then withdrew and she cried, "Screw 
me, fuck me deep. Oh, oooh, Roy, fuck me, oh," and he 
did. 

He bored into her deeper and harder and plowed and 
ground and he felt her movement deep inside, the whole 
of her cunt sucking and sucking against his hard prick 
and he rammed into her, and knew that she was coming 
and then felt her liquid spread out of her, onto the 
head of his prick and cause him to cum and he 
heightened his muscles and plunged, and tore into her 
and then the wonderful feeling of release came to him, 
his balls tightened and then released their semen, 
rushing it through his throbbing prick into her, 
drowning her with the outward rush of hotness. 

He ground and twisted and tore at her flesh with his 
hands until he was exhausted, until the last of his hot 
semen had spewed out of him, then relaxed atop her soft 
body.

"Thank you, Roy," Marily said to him between her gasps 
of satisfaction, her soft hands resting on his back and 
on his head.

"Don't thank me, beautiful," he said, kissing her 
breasts lightly. "Let's sleep. The party has really 
just started."

He slept. Marily lay awake, enjoying the feeling of 
contentment that she had, dreamed lazily of nothing, 
tried to feel guilt for what she had done, been doing, 
but she could not. She smiled to herself, knew that 
ahead of her lay fulfillment and joy as she had never 
imagined. Eventually, she fell asleep, a deep, deep 
easy sleep surrounding her.


-= Chapter 7 =-

The party continued the next day. Partners were 
selected for Saturday, then each of them wandered off 
at their own convenience, some of them sat about and 
talked and some enjoyed the sun of a surprisingly 
beautiful day in the patio. Vivian directed a good 
breakfast of tomato juice, steak and eggs and eye 
opening drinks.

Marily had to admire Vivian, who never seemed to tire 
of talking, but who got things done such as the 
planning of the party, serving of breakfast and sharing 
in the festivities all without, Marily imagined, ever 
closing her mouth. Before the sun was half-way into the 
sky on Saturday Marily had relaxed in the constant flow 
of words from Vivian, found them somehow soothing and 
realized with a start that she would miss them if they 
stopped.

Marily did not dream that her next partner would be one 
that she knew already, had been with already, Hans. She 
was startled when he smiled at her, showed her his slip 
of paper, because she was talking to Anna. Her face 
reddened, her tongue became locked in her mouth. Anna 
smiled her assurance that it mattered not to her, then 
told the both of them that she and Peter were to enjoy 
the day. Hans sat between them, holding Anna's hand and 
talking to her and it occurred to Marily that there was 
true love, that she hoped that someday she could 
appreciate Fred as much as either of them seemed to 
appreciate each other. But she was doubtful. 

She thought of the 'love making' she and Fred had every 
Tuesday and she shuddered. He would never consent to 
anything like this. She just knew it. What then, she 
wondered, was he to think of her if he ever found out 
about her week-end. She felt certain that he would 
divorce her, would hold her and probably the rest of 
them to public ridicule and scorn.

Then she surprised herself. She suddenly had the 
feeling that if that were to be the case, she should by 
all means make the most of the two days she had left. 
She looked at Hans, gave him a smile that promised all 
the delights that he had ever participated in or 
dreamed about, and ignored Anna. Hans' response was 
immediate. He excused the both of them to Anna, then 
took Marily's arm and led her out of the patio, into 
her backyard and to her house. She felt no shame or 
remorse whatever for all the things she had done with 
these three strange men. In fact, she found herself 
looking forward to more and more of it.


-= Chapter 8 =-

Marily worked like a Trojan Monday. She had induced the 
dentist, her last partner of the party, to help her 
move the furniture in the bedroom back to its former 
position, then she had seen him to the door, then 
carefully tucked his card away in her purse. 

He had promised her an amazing discount on her dental 
work, and would offer the same to Fred later in the 
week, he told her, as soon as he was initiated a 
member. As soon as he had disappeared through the hedge 
of the patio, she had started her work. She dusted, 
vacuumed, changed the bed clothes, even the pads on the 
beds, and washed and sprayed a heavy film of air 
freshener through the house.

She had paused in her work to have a bit of lunch, 
heard a car pull into the driveway next door, and had 
run to the window to see if it could be Peter. It 
wasn't. It was Vivian.

Vivian turned and waved to her, then headed in her 
direction. Marily opened the door for her, tried to 
smile and wondered if she knew that she had hoped it 
was Peter. She did.

"It's just me. Wipe the disappointment off your face, 
lovely, and let's have some coffee. I've been out 
laying the groundwork for Fred he's very cute, Marily, 
I don't think that you appreciate that fact and the 
fact that all men, every last one of them have the 
potential of becoming good lovers and husbands and they 
just have to be taught can we have a bite of lunch if 
you have anything to make and I'll outline the plan for 
you and we have considered your situation here and 
there is little of it that depends on you because 
you'll be nervous and you might ruin it all and we 
don't want that." 

Vivian paused for a split second and then continued 
full force, outlining the plan that Marily felt she was 
somehow missing, could not completely follow the flow 
of words that included general comments about 
everything under the sun with the plan thrown in. 
Generally, however, she got the idea. All she had to do 
was calm herself until Tuesday, then set the first part 
of it in motion. They would do the rest.

Marily practiced until time for picking Fred up at the 
airport. She was so nervous that she could hardly 
drive, fearful that something would go wrong, knowing 
that if it did it would be her downfall, her disgrace. 
She parked the car in the lot at the airport, then sat 
for a couple of minutes and breathed deeply. It all 
started now for her. She walked in measured steps to 
the gate and stood, mute, and stared straight ahead and 
waited for Fred.

He came through the gate smiling, and went directly to 
her. He kissed her on the lips without touching any 
part of her body, not putting an arm around her, not 
drawing her to him, just a kiss. Her nerve faltered, 
almost fled completely, then he began talking and she 
regained some of her self assurance.

"Everything went ideally, Marily. I'm on my way up, I 
can feel it now, I know it now. I didn't want you to 
worry, so I didn't tell you about my doubts. No, but I 
had them. Meeting the head of one of the world's 
largest corporations was just about too much, but I 
carried it off beautifully. Not a hitch." He helped her 
into the car, then went to the driver's side and slid 
in, started the motor and they were headed in the 
direction of their home before he spoke again. "And how 
was your weekend, Marily? Did you enjoy the party? Tell 
me what all you've been doing while I was away."

Marily felt an impulse to jump out of the car, to dash 
herself along the highway and thereby end it all, but 
she couldn't of course. Then she thought about just 
blurting it all out, telling him how she had for the 
first time enjoyed and appreciated the fact that she 
was a woman. But, she couldn't do that either. That 
left her with only one choice, to set the plan in 
motion. She took a deep breath, turned on the seat to 
face him, and talked.

"Darling, the party was delightful. Vivian is very busy 
and she invited me for dinner Friday night and I went 
and she had cooked all frozen food, but she had been 
out all day, so I suppose that it doesn't matter that 
much because it was good anyway. Then, the other guests 
started arriving and they have such lovely friends, all 
of whom I want you to meet, and we talked and got 
acquainted and... well, it was delightful." She stopped 
and took a deep breath, studying his profile to see how 
he was taking the whole thing and thinking of herself 
that she sounded like Vivian.

"Good," Fred told her, "We need to get to know some 
people. After all, we've been there for two months and 
it's time we got out a little, got to know some of our 
neighbors well. I like us to get involved." He smiled 
at her.

Marily had to admit to herself that she was already 
'involved'. She plunged ahead, "Fred, I accepted an 
invitation to a meeting tonight, a discussion, from 
Peter. I mean that he's in charge of it--it's about 
civil rights that he's very interested in--and Vivian 
has so many clubs and tonight she stays home and I knew 
that you wouldn't want to go out just getting back and 
all and she says that you should come over and visit 
with her... well, I took it upon myself to make all the 
arrangements for both our evenings."

"Fine, Marily. But, I don't want you getting involved 
too much in any civil rights movements. That would look 
bad for me at the company. You do understand that?" He 
looked at her to see if she understood it.

"Oh, yes, Fred, I understand your position. I thought 
about it when it was brought up and at first I 
hesitated, declined, really, but I think that they 
understand. It's only one time anyway and if I think... 
well, I can evaluate the whole thing and be careful not 
to get us out on a limb. You'll see."

"Good, Marily, just don't get upset and say something 
that you might later regret, or that will get back to 
the company. It'll be fine, I'm sure."

"Fred... I told Vivian that you could get acquainted, 
too. I mean she wants to know you and so I thought it 
would be a good idea for you to go over and talk to 
her. She's having a friend in, a beautiful and 
intelligent woman, Anna Shiller, who's married to a 
man, Hans, who is German, and he's in business here 
and... well, I thought it would be a good idea so I 
promised you for the evening." She had spilled the 
whole thing, not gradually as she had planned, but it 
was out, it was there, she had said it all. She waited 
for his reply.

"Good, Marily, I think you've done very well. Sounds 
great." He swung the car into the driveway, then into 
the garage and got his luggage out of the trunk, 
carried it into the house. Marily couldn't quite 
believe that everything had gone as smoothly as it had. 
Now she told herself, all she had to do was hang on 
through the evening and trust the others to do their 
part.


-= Chapter 9 =-

Marily was extremely nervous that night approaching 
Peter's house. She glanced sideways at Fred as he rang 
the bell, her mind a complete blank about 
introductions, the proper thing to say when she 
introduced her husband to Peter whom she knew so well.

Peter answered the door, took the whole thing out of 
her hands. He grabbed Fred's hand and pumped it as 
though he were a long lost friend, pulled him into the 
house and made all the introductions and said that he 
was late, and that he and Marily would run right along, 
that he was sure Fred would be happy with Vivian and 
Anna. Marily felt he would be also. She was amazed at 
the way Fred's eyes took in the whole of the beautiful 
Anna, as though he were hypnotized by her. She left 
with Peter, looked back at Fred who was still watching 
Anna and wished that she could somehow manage to see 
the whole thing happening. Surprisingly, she felt no 
jealously whatever.

"How nice your wife is we enjoyed knowing her so much 
while you were away on that horrible business trip 
leaving her all alone and it was nice to have her here 
and get to know at least the feminine half of you 
and..." she babbled, putting a drink in his hand that 
he didn't even realize was a drink and he watched Anna 
and thought that he had never seen such a beautiful 
woman in his life. 

She had an animal magnetism that seemed to overpower 
every thing else in the room, that seemed to make even 
the nonsense of Vivian acceptable. Anna smiled at him, 
her lips glistening, her green eyes sparkling, and 
seemed to agree with him his thoughts which weren't 
even complete thoughts in his own mind. "...and I have 
to put little Suzie down she's upstairs in her room 
waiting for me to say good-night so I'll just run right 
up and you two get to know each other," Vivian's voice 
floated down at them from the top of the stairs.

"She'll be up there some time Fred," Anna spoke softly, 
"Let's go out to the patio?"

Fred stood, as she did, and she took his hand and led 
him into the patio. He swore at himself for being such 
a lunk-head, for not having anything to say to her, for 
not being able to do anything but go along with what 
she suggested; he suddenly wanted to assert his 
manhood, to take her to the patio rather than be led 
like a child. But, they were there and he could smell 
her perfume and he had to keep himself from reaching 
out and touching her, from grabbing onto her and 
pulling her to him.

Anna turned and deliberately touched him, felt the 
electric spark that shot from him, and smiled to 
herself. She had never had such an easy time of 
seducing a man, she thought, and said, to put him at 
ease somewhat, "It is a beautiful night, isn't it? So 
romantic, so... peaceful. Do you feel romantic, Fred?" 
She murmured, moving so that his arm touched her hip, 
"I do."

Fred was fighting a losing battle with his conscience, 
his mind and all his morals. He had never before felt 
such earth shaking desire of anyone as the beautiful 
woman who had just issued an invitation to him. He 
couldn't believe it. He couldn't restrain himself, 
either. He grabbed for her, tried to find her lips with 
his, managed to kiss her chin, then did find her mouth 
and the sensation of her mouth against his made him 
weak, in the legs, and his breath almost left his body.

"Please, Fred, not so rough," she said, leaning her 
body against his. "I knew somehow you felt the same 
thing I did," she said, then kissed him, softly, 
pressing into him as she did so. Fred couldn't believe 
that he had her soft, plaint body in his arms and that 
she was kissing him, unlike he had ever been kissed 
before. 

He was afraid that he would crush her if he held her as 
tightly in his arms as he wanted to. She drew back from 
him, said, "Let's go to your house, Fred," and took his 
hand and led him across the patio, into his own and 
stopped and let herself be kissed again. She felt his 
hardness beginning between his legs, so she eased 
herself against it, felt him pull back from 
embarrassment.

"What... what about VIVIAN?" he stammered, panting.

"Vivian knows me very well. Don't worry about her." 
Anna whispered in his ear, then walked through the back 
door of his house and then stopped and said, "Fred, do 
you want to go to bed with me?"

Fred simply couldn't believe what his ears were 
hearing. He had, at a much younger age, felt the 
overpowering desire that he was experiencing now, but 
it had been a long time ago. His mother had always made 
him feel dirty just because he was a male, had reminded 
him over and over again that women were abused and 
taken advantage of by men until he had come to believe 
that that was so, that he was dirtying a woman just to 
think about having sex with her, debasing her to put 
his dirty hard tool into her. 

He had tried not to hurt Marily because she reminded 
him of his mother, the very soul of virginity and 
cleanliness and purity. He had tried to be careful with 
her, tried always and successfully to control himself 
and look after her too. Now, here he was with the most 
beautiful woman he had ever seen and she was wanting 
him, not he was sure for the dirty, unclean things 
about man, but out of desire pure and simple that 
matched his own. He trembled from head to foot as he 
drew her to him and kissed her.

"Yes, yes," he managed to tell her, moving toward the 
bedroom.

Once there Anna set about her task with ease. She 
kissed him, held him closely to her, put her hand on 
the back of his head and pulled him forward to her, 
then touched his lips with her tongue, then opened his 
mouth and put her tongue inside, and marveled at his 
trembling body. She pushed him gently back from her and 
unbuttoned his shirt, kissed his shoulder, then his 
chest, and took the shirt off his back. She took his 
hands and directed them in the removal of her own 
blouse, then they kissed again, and Fred's hands moved 
with utter concern and gentility over her back.

Anna helped Fred to unfasten her bra, surprised that he 
couldn't and knowing that he had never done that for 
any woman before, caused her to slow her pace, to 
remember with whom she was dealing. She did it for him, 
guiding his fingers in the unhooking of the snap that 
held her bra. 

She saw his eyes bulge when he took in the beauty of 
her full, firm breasts, and she lifted one of his hands 
and placed it against one of them. Again she felt him 
tremble, so she took his head and moved it to her, 
then, still holding it firmly in her hands, guided his 
mouth to her nipple.

Fred kissed lightly at the soft pinkness of her breast, 
his hands on her hips and suddenly wanted all of her 
luscious softness in his mouth, wanted to stick and 
bite and tear at her, but he couldn't, instead sucked 
gently at the nipple, worked at it with his tongue.

Anna raised his head, looked into his eyes, and kissed 
him on the mouth. He put his tongue to her lips and she 
permitted him to enter her mouth with his tongue, then 
took it with her own and gently sucked at it, drawing 
him to her as she did so and felt his hardness that was 
acute press into her without hesitation. She gently 
moved him back, then unbuckled his belt, then unzipped 
the fly of his trousers, pushed them over his hips and 
down his legs. 

She straightened, moved his hands around her hips and 
put his hands on the zipper of her skirt. He did as she 
bade him, and her skirt was suddenly on the floor, 
around her feet. She stepped out of it, then reached to 
him and started to remove his shorts. He stiffened and 
she stopped, afraid of breaking the spell. Instead, she 
helped him to remove her panties.

Fred looked at her nudeness in sincere shock. He had 
never in all his twenty-five years seen a woman naked. 
His eyes traveled from her lovely face to her 
magnificent breasts, firm and pointing upwards and 
crowned with a pinkness that he had never seen before. 
Then his glance took in her stomach, flat and smooth 
and soft looking and slightly muscled, ending in the 
perfect V at her crotch, her soft slightly less black 
pubic hair laying silken and downy, then to her 
wonderfully full shaped thighs and perfect legs. He 
gasped with the totality of her, the richness of her 
beauty and the quality that she retained nude that he 
had first felt about her.

Anna laughed softly, moved against him and kissed him, 
taking his tongue into her mouth again, working with 
it, using her hands on his back, across his shoulders 
and his head. She felt the throbbing of his big cock 
against her, then laughed when she moved her body 
gently away from his and saw the evil looking one-eyed 
thing standing straight up between them. "Your 
undershorts are not serving their purpose," she told 
him, sliding them over his hips and down his legs. She 
could feel the goose bumps, the trembling of his legs 
as she removed the shorts. She took his large throbbing 
prick in her hand and kissed the head of it. Fred 
gasped at her unashamed familiarity.

She laughed again softly, then eased herself onto the 
bed, took his hand and drew him down alongside her. 
Fred reached out to turn out the lamp, she put a hand 
over his and said, "No, please. Let's see each other." 
He hesitated, then turned to her hot with passion, and 
drew her to him. They kissed, long and passionately, 
Fred filling her mouth with his tongue, probing into 
her deeply, enjoying and loving the treatment she gave 
his tongue. 

She gently moved his head to her breasts, and he kissed 
and licked and sucked and felt her raise and push 
against him. He gently bit her on the nipple and 
continued to do so, working his tongue over it, then 
taking it in his teeth, feeling at the same time her 
hands on his back and head.

Anna moved his head to her mouth, kissed him long and 
hard, felt her breasts being massaged and her now hard 
nipples twisted and rolled between his fingers, she 
guided his head over her breasts to her stomach. He 
kissed it flatly, his lips pressed into her and sent 
hot spears of delight to her cunt.

She spread her legs and moved his head down to her 
thighs, and he kissed and bit the top part of her legs. 
She guided his head between her legs but he would not 
put his mouth on her vagina. "Kiss it, Fred," she 
pleaded gently, moving her hips up slightly and 
rotating the soft hair-lined pussy right in front of 
his gaping face as she pressed down on his head with 
her hands.

He shook his head slightly but would not look up at 
her. She lifted his head, pulled his mouth back to 
hers, kissed him, bit and sucked his tongue then moved 
her hand down to his hard throbbing prick. She worked 
her thumb over the soft head of it, then pulled the 
foreskin up and down and caused him to move violently 
in her hand. She gripped it firmly with her fingers 
digging into the side of it and pulled so that he 
brought his body around and lay with his legs turned in 
the opposite direction than hers. She moved his head 
back down the length of her body and placed it between 
her thighs, then slipped her soft red lips over the 
head of his cock. 

He moaned, then touched her cunt lips with his tongue. 
Anna sucked at him, just the head of his prick, and 
with each probing of her tongue at the small opening, 
his tongue worked more quickly at her vaginal lips. She 
moved her hands around his ass, which felt more slim 
than her own Hans', and reached between his legs and 
rolled his balls in her hands, then moved further down 
on his ever hardening and lengthening prick until it 
filled the whole of her mouth.

Fred couldn't believe what was happening to him. He 
delighted in the softness of her stomach, the firmness 
of her breasts and reveled in the ecstasy of kissing, 
for the first time, into the soft pink slit of a 
beautiful woman's vagina. He hadn't been able to at 
first, when she had wanted him to, but she had taken 
him into her mouth, without hesitation, and he wanted 
to do the same for her, feeling somehow that it was 
right, that it was not the dirty thing that he had been 
led to believe. He probed the soft flanges of her and 
wallowed in the delight it gave him. He moved his 
tongue deeper in, felt her put her hands on his ass, 
then take his balls and cradle them lightly in her soft 
hands. He felt like rejoicing.

He licked more violently at her, knew that he was 
exciting her because of the movement of her hips, and 
then his tongue felt her clitoris. He moved it upwards, 
causing her to moan and take more of his hard prick 
into her mouth, so he worked it around with his tongue, 
causing her to thrust upwards so that his whole mouth 
was suddenly slapped into her soft wetness and bore in, 
sliding his tongue in as far as it would go, enjoyed 
the pressure that she exerted on it, and without 
realizing it, pushed his prick further into her throat, 
received a slight hurt from it because of the 
restricting tightness suddenly clamping around it. He 
tried to withdraw it, but she pulled him further into 
her mouth by her pressure on his ass, so he relaxed and 
further explored with his tongue his new discovery.

Fred moved his hands to her wonderfully shaped hips and 
spread her apart so that his tongue had greater access 
to her. He felt her own fingers on his rectum and he 
touched her gently, then tried to push his finger into 
the rubbery tissue, was momentarily stopped, not 
wanting to force her and bring pain to her, then 
continued and worked his finger into the tight 
resisting hole and pushed his tongue full hilt inside 
her and she squirmed and ground her hips under him.

Anna moved Fred's prick from her mouth because she felt 
him building up to cum. She took his head in her hands 
and moved it to her mouth, then maneuvered him so that 
his long, hard prick was between her legs. She moved 
her hands between them, took that tool in her hands and 
moved her lips aside and placed the head inside her, 
then moved ever so slightly upwards until the head of 
it was completely in, then stopped and kissed him. Fred 
moaned with delight.

"Fred," Anna whispered directly into his ear, flicking 
her tongue inside it and causing him to shiver, "I want 
you to fuck me."

Fred had never before heard a woman use that word. But 
somehow it didn't shock him because it sounded natural 
coming from Anna, indeed he could think of no other 
word that would have been more apt, more suitable for 
the occasion. Just her speaking the word excited him 
almost beyond the limits of his control and he pushed 
into her, causing her to cry out with pain. He stopped 
immediately and started to withdraw, but she said no, 
just rest where he was. He loved the feeling of her 
cunt walls around his hard prick, the heat seeming to 
come from the inside of her and caress his own burning 
desire. She pulled at his back with her hands and he 
eased on into her tight passage, felt the walls give 
slightly at the touch of the head of his prick, then 
waited until she pressured him again then continued, 
pushed all the way into her, and she moaned.

He rested there, pulsating and throbbing in her, 
wanting to move in and out and up into her, waiting for 
her to guide and tell him how to treat her. She did. 
She moved slightly away from him so that he slipped out 
of her slightly, then, shoved back, spearing herself on 
his prick. 

He immediately moved in, then out, and she took his 
rhythm and matched her own to it, helping him with 
every thrust, until he reached a crest, knew that he 
was going to have to empty his load within her hot 
readiness, and he moved suddenly, slamming himself into 
her more forcefully and she guided his arms up under 
her legs and moved them up until the upper part of him 
was resting on her and then he moved himself forward on 
his knees and pushed into her cunt with his hard cock 
and felt something give deep within her and he ground 
down and she groaned and clutched at his hips with her 
hands. 

He repeated the same thing three times, then lost all 
sense of what he was doing and pounded and rammed into 
her and ground into her and felt her flow against him 
and knew that for the first time in his life that he 
had made a woman have orgasm and then he felt his own 
quick coming orgasm building and then giving out and 
rushing from him and he ground and pounded and plunged 
until it was there, the most wonderful release he had 
ever known, rushing from him from every fiber of his 
being into the most secret parts of her. He spewed and 
ground out his semen into her and loved her violent 
movements against him, helping him reach the foremost 
peak of joy.

Then it was over, he rested in her, and she kissed him 
and rubbed his back and said, "That was beautiful, 
Fred, beautiful," and he agreed, not verbally but with 
his body, moving a little further into her. He kissed 
her beautiful face, her brow, her eyes and her nose and 
her mouth. He felt as though he had been transported to 
heaven. He felt completely at ease, did not feel the 
need to shower and clean himself as he had every time 
before, and marveled at himself.

"Fred, I must go. Really," Anna said, moving from 
beneath him. "I would like to meet you tomorrow for 
lunch, but I don't want to be here when Marily 
returns." She kissed his lips and then got out of the 
bed.

Fred hadn't thought of Marily. Now, hearing her name on 
the lips of that beautiful woman, he did think of her, 
tried to feel guilty about being unfaithful to her, but 
he couldn't. She had never in two years of marriage, 
been what Anna had been for him tonight. He was amazed 
by it all, the wonder of Anna. He couldn't take time to 
consider Marily. "We will have lunch together tomorrow, 
Anna," he heard himself promise, then began to dress 
himself. Suddenly he thought of what Marily had told 
him about Anna, that her husband was a nice, handsome 
man, and he said, "Anna, what about your husband, 
Hans?"

"What about him?" She smiled.

"Well... I mean us here and... but he'll never know, 
huh?" he laughed.

"Oh, yes. He will know. I will tell him. We have no 
secrets, Fred. None."

"You'll tell him? My God!" Fred exploded, his mind agog 
at all the trouble he was headed for.

"Fred, you're invited to a party this week-end. I was 
going to explain it to you tomorrow, but I suppose it 
would be best now. We want you to join the neighborhood 
club, both you and your wife, and we meet this week-end 
at my house. Where will we have lunch tomorrow?" She 
smiled warmly at him, then took his hand and led him 
out of the house, through the patio, across the patio 
to the Aiken house and they sat on the couch and sipped 
at a drink and waited for Vivian to come downstairs.


-= Chapter 10 =-

Fred was amazed that Vivian should still be upstairs, 
putting the daughter to rest for the evening. He looked 
at his watch, couldn't remember at what time he had 
left the house, to go to his own with Anna, decided 
that it didn't really matter. He sat and marveled at 
his own sexual powers, at the pleasure that Anna had 
given him and he apparently her, and watched Vivian 
descend the stairs without hearing what she babbled 
about.

And babble she did. For somewhat close to an hour she 
talked, Anna mumbling "Yes," or "No," or "Really?" 
occasionally. Fred didn't listen, couldn't have 
repeated anything the woman said, until she mentioned 
his name. His ears perked up, he tried to focus his 
mind on what she was saying. He was horrified. She was 
questioning Anna about him, what he had done in bed 
with her, how he had reacted. His face, once he 
realized what she was talking about, was suddenly hot 
and, he knew, red.

He was relieved for a minute when he heard a car pull 
into the driveway, certain that it would be Peter and 
Marily, then a near panic seized him when he considered 
what his wife would think unless Vivian shut her mouth. 
He forced a question, by speaking loudly, to change the 
course of her conversation: "How long has Peter been 
practicing law?"

"About five years he's had the same office here in Mill 
Valley but he's been out of school before that, say 
about one year, we looked for a place to live, to raise 
the child in nice surroundings and be near a good 
school, all things that one must consider when the yoke 
and pleasure of parenthood is looped about one's neck 
and..." She droned on, until the doorbell momentarily 
interrupted her. Not that she stopped speaking, she 
simply changed subjects, opened the door wide and 
caught a surprised Marily in her arms, then started 
talking to Peter about their daughter, some clever 
thing that she had said.

Fred stood when Marily entered the room, hoped that he 
was not blushing, tried to assume a calm and normal 
voice when he asked her, "How was the meeting?"

Marily was looking closely at Fred, putting him at a 
disadvantage. She wanted to see if there was any 
outward sign that he had participated in the plot for 
his happiness, but she could discern none. She had 
received a nod from Anna, meaning to her that the act 
had been completed, that he was well on his way to 
becoming a member, but she wanted to see it on his 
face. She couldn't. "Oh, Fred, it was wonderful. There 
is so much going on here, in this community you'd never 
believe. You would enjoy it very much. I know you 
would." She turned to Anna, then.

"What did you people talk about? Did you get 
acquainted?" Fred was undergoing mixed emotions. He had 
been afraid that talkative Vivian would let the cat out 
of the bag, but now that his wife was talking, he 
feared for a moment that she would know how to get any 
information that she desired from another woman. Then, 
when he heard Anna answering his Marily, he knew that 
the former was too bright, too intelligent, to give 
anything away. He relaxed. Shortly, Peter came and 
maneuvered him out to the kitchen, mixed both of them a 
drink over Fred's protestations, and talked.

Marily didn't know what to say to Fred once they were 
alone. She had no fear that he had been told anything 
about her weekend just past, but she wanted him to tell 
her how he had felt, how he had gotten along with Anna 
and Vivian. She didn't know that the plans had been 
modified, that both women had felt that the two of them 
might be a bit much for him, coming all at once. She 
said nothing, however, but she did ignore the 
disarrayed bed, hurriedly turned back the covers and 
pulled the sheets back, trusting that he wouldn't 
remember or think about how he had left it. She felt a 
slight pang of jealously when she came to him, in bed, 
and he told her, "Marily, not tonight, O.K.? Let's 
forget about it for this week. The trip and all..."

She went to her own bed, lay down and smiled to 
herself. For the first time, even after the assurances 
from Anna, she knew that Fred was undergoing a change 
of character, that he was, quietly and unto himself, 
thinking about her for the first time in a long time. 
She went to sleep as soon as she heard his soft snore.


-= Chapter 11 =-

As the week-end approached, Marily became more and more 
nervous. Fred seemed to be changing every day, almost 
right in front of her eyes. He had purchased a couple 
of bottles of liquor, had mixed the two of them a drink 
each evening. That in itself was amazing, but the most 
fantastic thing to her was that he kissed her, 
passionately almost, both Wednesday and Thursday when 
he came home from work. 

He seemed more relaxed, more in control of himself than 
he ever had before. She had her own doubts about the 
coming week-end. She was anxious about how Fred would 
accept the fact that she was a woman, just as much in 
need as he was of sexual fulfillment, about what he 
would think when he realized, as he must surely do, 
what the party the preceding week-end had been like for 
her.

She had been visited by Hans, on Thursday, during the 
short lunch break that he had, and he had laughed at 
her fears and told her that her Fred was with his Anna. 
His quieting of her roaring needs had helped calm her, 
but she was, by Friday afternoon, ready to collapse.

Fred was no help to her when he came home. He seemed so 
sure of himself, so determined about his every action, 
that she had all kinds of intuitive feelings about the 
coming week-end. It almost blew her mind. She sighed, 
then with great effort, decided that things would just 
have to take their course, that she really had no 
control of the situation and that she would just have 
to feel her way along during the whole scene that was 
to follow.

And, she knew that the whole thing would be a surprise 
to Fred as it was supposed to be to her. She dressed 
carefully for the party and smiled at Fred when he 
opened the door on his side of the car for her to get 
in. She almost giggled, realizing that he was just as, 
if not more, upset than she was.

Hans and Anna lived in a beautiful old house, right on 
the water. The view was magnificent. San Francisco 
majestically rose up among the hills across the bay, 
Alcatraz sat lonely and abandoned in the middle of the 
water and the waves gently lapped at the pilings at the 
foundation of the house. Marily remembered Anna saying 
that her family had left the house to her, and wished 
that someone would leave her such a house. 

Fred, in the meantime, was making a great show of 
finding the doorbell, trying to prove to her that he 
had never seen the place before. She almost felt sorry 
for him. They entered a darkened house. Anna had no 
lights on anywhere, except in the kitchen. 

They were all sitting in the living room, the lights 
making strange patterns on the walls and the clothes of 
the talking guests. Anna and Hans moved Fred and Marily 
about, introducing them and getting them into a seat. 
All had gone fine until Roy had been introduced, along 
with his wife, and at that time Marily had had a moment 
of panic when he had squeezed her hand, then patted her 
on the buttocks. But, apparently it all went over 
Fred's head or vision, his mind locked as it was on 
Anna.

They sat for a short while in the living room, looking 
at the heavenly vista before them, until all the guests 
had arrived. Then Hans invited all the men into the 
kitchen, and Anna took charge of the women. She advised 
them all that the party for the first night at least, 
would be held in total darkness, and that this week, in 
honor of the new members, the men would do all the 
choosing, or drawing. 

She directed each woman to an upstairs room, two to the 
room, and there they waited for the men to join them. 
Marily had every misgiving that could possibly assail 
her. Anna took her arm, realized that she was 
trembling, and told her, "We are to share the same 
room. Everything has been worked out in advance. Do not 
worry, Marily. Please."

Marily started crying, her whole body shaking, and told 
her between sobs, in the bedroom, "It can't be. He'll 
never forgive me. And I love him, Anna, I really do. 
He'll hate me. You know how men are. It's one thing for 
them to do this, but quite another for their wives."

"Marily, you must trust us. I've been with Fred every 
day this week. I have come to know him. He was very 
dubious about your accepting such doings, but I 
promised him that I would take care of everything. He 
is just as concerned as you, believe me. There will be 
no trouble. You will see. I think that it will help you 
get on better with each other. I really do." 

Anna talked, helped Marily to undress and made her lie 
down in one of the huge beds in the room. Then she went 
through a door, into the bathroom that was just off the 
bedroom, and returned with a damp, cold wash cloth and 
gently bathed Marily's face. "After all dear, there 
will be no talking, no names mentioned tonight. That is 
the rule of this party because it is in our house and 
believe me, Hans and I have thought it all out very 
carefully. There now," she said, patting Marily on the 
shoulder and getting up from the bed.

Marily wanted to express her thanks to this wonderful 
woman, but she couldn't. Although Anna had not quieted 
her fears, she had lessened them somewhat. She buried 
herself deep into the bed, almost dozed, then felt the 
bed give and strong hands reach for her and she signed 
heavily and moved into the demanding arms. She hadn't 
even heard anyone enter, but here he was, whoever he 
might be, kissing her. 

Marily lifted her hands to his head, felt the nape of 
his neck, and knew that it was beyond doubt, Peter. She 
was so grateful she could have cried all over again, 
but she didn't. She drew him down upon her and kissed 
him with all the burning passion that was in her.

Fred had entered the same bedroom, worry crowding his 
mind about his wife, wondering what she would be 
thinking, if she were fighting off some strange man, 
horrified with the thought of what he was doing to her. 
He had settled within himself the probability that she 
would leave him, would divorce him publicly, could 
visualize himself being called before his boss and 
fired on the spot, but there was nothing he could do 
about it. Anna was too powerful for him, too much a 
part of him and his unknown desire for him to care. He 
had worried about Hans and had been more than shocked 
when Anna told him that Hans knew and approved of what 
she was doing.

At first he had simply refused to believe it, then 
tonight meeting Hans and liking him instantly, he knew 
that she had been telling the truth, that somehow they 
were close to each other as man and wife in a way that 
he and Marily were not because of this. He trembled, 
moving toward the bed and the woman he knew would be 
there. She had promised. He lowered himself into the 
large bed, reached for and found his desire, Anna. He 
kissed her, passionately on the mouth, his hands 
explored again, in wonder, her now familiar body; all 
thoughts of Marily fled his mind.

Peter's long, hot kiss spun Marily's mind. The worry 
about Fred, what he would think of her and what he 
might do to her when he found out about her past week-
end, dissolved like a lump of sugar in hot coffee as 
soon as she had drawn all of Peter's delightful tongue 
into her mouth. He was laying in his favorite position, 
his hips flat on the bed, his arms across her, his 
hands on her breasts, and his mouth on hers. 

Her arms flew about his, she rubbed his leg with her 
foot, feeling every individual hair that grew there, 
and sucked at his tongue and moved her lips against 
his. Her hands played over and down his back, to the 
small of it, and she playfully pulled on the short hair 
that she felt there. Peter bit her in return, and 
laughed into her mouth with his own, then squeezed her 
breast so hard that she would have cried out had she 
been able to do so.

He withdrew his mouth from her, put it on her breasts, 
bit softly at the nipple, caused it to spring into 
hardness instantly, and put his hand between her legs, 
his fingers exploring until they were on the lips of 
her cunt, then he jabbed into her, causing pain to 
shoot from her soft cuntal slit up to her stomach and 
into the tips of her breasts. 

She didn't mind. She reminded herself that he had come 
at her in brutality, had literally raped her, and she 
had forgiven him for that. Then, she decided that in 
her strange mood of the evening that she would rape 
him, would make him feel as he had made her feel that 
first time. She felt like laughing inside, deep down, 
at her own deviousness.

She moved her hips backwards, ridding herself of his 
finger in her cunt, and made him turn over on his back, 
then she got on top of him, made sure that his soft, 
hardening prick was laying on his stomach, put her cunt 
on top of it, on the underside actually because the top 
was laying along his stomach, to his large muscled arms 
and folded them behind his head and held them there at 
the elbows with her hands, then put her mouth on his.

She bit his lips. He shook his head trying to escape 
her sharp teeth, but she bore down, then shoved her 
tongue into his mouth. He bit her tongue, causing it to 
hurt like hell, so she withdrew it immediately and bit 
him on the neck, causing him to squirm under her. His 
prick hardened suddenly and Marily tightened her legs 
around his back, knowing that her hot little slit was 
causing the throbbing there. She raised herself 
slightly, moved her breasts across his face, then 
lifted them out of range of his seeking mouth, laughed 
softly and then kissed him, probing deep into his large 
mouth with her tongue.

Peter tried to release his arms, but Marily would not 
permit that. She put all her weight on his elbows and 
he stopped resisting. She moved her firm breasts across 
his face, brushed his lips with their hard nipples, and 
ground her pelvis down onto his stomach, knowing that 
the inner softness of her barely touching his hardened 
cock would drive him out of his mind. 

Peter shoved his hips upwards, enjoying the feel of her 
hot wetness on his prick, but Marily would not let it 
move. She let him take her breast in his mouth, pushed 
herself forward so that she filled his mouth with it, 
felt his tongue probe the nipple, his teeth clamp down 
on her. She pulled up abruptly, her own need on the 
verge of overpowering her, and teased him with both her 
breasts, then leaned over him, bit his nipples just as 
he had done hers.

Marily raised her hips, felt his rock hard prick spring 
up, worked her vagina into position over it, then eased 
herself down so that the head of his prick was just 
barely in the prime opening of her cunt. Peter tried to 
force himself up and further into her, but she would 
have none of that. Every time he pushed up, she lifted 
herself away from him. Then, in her own time and her 
own manner, she gradually slipped down on him, knowing 
that her hot pussy was driving him insane with desire. 

She continued slowly, using her new-found muscled 
walled vagina, and took all of his huge hardness inside 
her. She rested with that big wedge inside her, would 
not let him move his hips, having her legs firmly 
wrapped around him, until she was ready, until she had 
had enough of teasing him, then she moved her cunt up 
and down his long prick. She felt herself moving 
rapidly toward need of fulfillment, so she released his 
hands from behind his head and placed them on her hips.

They gripped her there, strongly, mashing into her soft 
flesh, and she moved up and down with ever increasing 
motion, then ground down on that hot spear, enjoyed the 
throbbing head of it deep inside her, then bucked onto 
it, her movements shifting into a frenzied gyration, 
and took it to the top of her and held him there until 
she came, until the warmth flowed out of her, around 
him, against the soft rubbery head. Peter tried 
frantically to move under her, to buck his prick into 
her, to satisfy his own screaming need, but she locked 
her legs tightly about him and prevented any movement 
on his part.

Peter realized what she had done to him, that she had 
raped him just as he had done her, and he felt like 
laughing. It served him right, he guessed, but that was 
another time, another place. Now he found himself 
gripped into her tight, hot cunt and his balls tight 
and needing to cum and she wouldn't let him, wouldn't 
continue with the movement that would bring him 
release. He slowly tensed his muscles, dug his heels 
into the bed, and in one quick movement flipped her 
over and reversed their positions so that he was on top 
of her.

Marily was surprised. She had been torturing him, had 
kept his hot, hard cock trapped within her, refusing to 
give him his pleasure, then suddenly she was under him 
and he was ramming into her, plunging wildly, grinding 
and pushing deep into her. She wanted to gain back her 
former position, had indeed started to, when her body 
betrayed her, catching fire and wanting and having the 
flames deep inside her burst into maddening fire. She 
relented, met his every movement with her own, slammed 
her vaginal lips to the very root of his hard pistoning 
cock and sucked him into her when he ground deep, and 
then it was there for her again, and him at the same 
time. 

They were one and frantic with each other, he trying to 
get inside her completely and she trying to take him, 
until they both felt the ultimate release, he spewing 
holy into her, she releasing her own fluid to meet his, 
the continued pounding and plunging until they were 
both spent, satisfied, she for the second time, then 
she drew him into her arms, and rested under him. She 
felt that she had managed to rape him and that he damn 
well knew he had been taken. She felt truly gratified 
at her conquest and a feeling of all encompassing 
warmth rippled through her.


-= Chapter 12 =-

Marily and Peter lay quietly together for some minutes, 
then she got off the bed and went to the bathroom. She 
washed herself, using the douching equipment that Anna 
had pointed out to her earlier. She washed her face in 
cold water, then went to the door of the bathroom and 
carefully opened it, and gasped when Anna brushed 
against her. They both laughed, softly, and Marily 
continued on, groping in the darkness for the bed.

She moved herself onto it, guided by Peter's strong 
hands, and lay down in perfect contentment against him. 
He lay utterly still and she massaged his chest, 
enjoying the feel of hair against her hands. She felt 
rather than heard Anna coming back into the room, then 
Peter had moved her hands from him and slipped out of 
the bed. She watched the blurry outline of him in the 
total darkness, expecting him to enter the bathroom. He 
did not. He went to the other bed, leaned over it, then 
another man moved out of the bed and groped his way 
toward her. 

Suddenly, she was frightened.

She moved slightly hoping to avoid the closeness of 
him, then felt his hands on her stomach, then they 
moved to her breasts. She gasped from the shock of the 
coldness of them. Suddenly his lips were on hers, 
gently, almost shyly, and her fear disappeared. She 
kissed him back. His tongue probed her mouth, ever so 
softly, and she took it into her, moving her tongue 
against his as gently as he had moved into her. They 
kissed, wetly, then his mouth drew away from hers and 
was carefully placed on her breasts. She heard a small 
gasping cry from him at the wonder of her.

She moved her hands to his head, smoothed his hair and 
ran them down his back. He trembled. Marily felt a deep 
satisfaction knowing that she could please him by the 
simple movement. His tongue raced over her firm 
breasts, at first slowly, then faster, and her nipples 
sprung into hardness against the tormenting wet muscle. 
She pulled him to her. He moved his sex against her. 
She felt the tremendous length of him, the hardness of 
his prick against her leg, and she shuddered with 
anticipation of having this stranger grinding it around 
in the depths of her warm, wet pussy.

The wonderful mouth sought hers again, she almost 
greedily sucked his tongue into her. Then it was gone, 
and then it was on her breasts again, then on her 
stomach. She loved the feelings that it aroused deep 
within her, the desire that had been so recently 
satisfied, springing to life again, next to her heart.

She was electrified with pleasure when the gentle hands 
spread the lips of her vagina, then the warm breath was 
breathed into her waiting cunt, then the gentle probing 
of his tongue around the soft flanges of her. She lay 
still, waiting for the next pleasurable sensation to 
invade her. It did. 

The tongue explored her opening, into the walls of her, 
then deeper, then up to and around her clitoris, 
causing her to move her hips forward to meet it. She 
put her hands on his head and pulled him into her, 
pressed his face down onto her cunt, moved so that the 
wet probing muscle would go further into her. She 
moaned with pleasure.

Fred had approached the bed with trepidation. He was, 
he felt, going to his own doom. He had to walk across 
the room, get into bed with and make love to a complete 
stranger. He forced his nerves under control, told 
himself that he could and would do this because Anna 
wanted it. He had lowered himself into the bed, had 
forced himself to reach for the waiting female flesh.

He was startled to find the smoothness and softness in 
his hands, even more so than Anna, he knew, and he had 
gone ahead and found her mouth with his and kissed her 
and gradually she had responded, tenderly and gently, 
causing a warm rush of good feeling for her to pour out 
of him. He had kissed her breasts, which were 
magnificent to his touch, so firm and yet soft and 
luscious. He had moved his mouth back to hers, the same 
soft lips and tender tongue had received him with 
something near to his own eagerness, and he had reveled 
in the pleasure it gave him.

Then he had wanted to take her all into his mouth, to 
know every part of her body with his lips and teeth. He 
had kissed and sucked at her breasts, then her stomach, 
and unable to resist, he had parted the lips of her 
vagina and probed it with his tongue. She had responded 
instantly placing her soft hands on his head, sending 
electric currents rushing through him, all the way to 
his toes. He probed deeper, took her clitoris and 
rubbed it with his tongue, causing her to come alive 
and respond fully to him. He felt proud of himself.

Marily had been loved more than she had all her life in 
one short week, but never had she felt such attraction 
for, such compassion for, the man that was with her 
now. He was gentle and hard and solid and tender, and a 
complete stranger to her. He was so expertly kissing 
her inner softness, sending thrill after thrill through 
her, that she wanted to give him the same satisfaction, 
wanted to repay him for her own pleasure, and she 
didn't want him to stop. She indicated with her hands 
on him that he should turn his prick toward her head, 
and he did so, slowly, and she put her hand on it, then 
felt the sack of his slightly swaying testicles, and 
rubbed them together and knew that he had hardened 
more.

She gripped the fleshy softness of him and moved her 
hand over it, then around the head of it, and guided it 
to her lips and kissed the pulpy softness and then 
moved her mouth onto it, over the head of it, and felt 
him push slightly by way of thanking her for her 
consideration. She loved the still softly probing 
tongue in her cunt, so she eased his prick slowly into 
her mouth, felt it wonderfully filling her, then moved 
it further in, down deep into her throat. She moved her 
hands to his ass, which was soft to the touch but well-
muscled, and into his crack and through his legs and 
took his balls into her hands again.

She sucked at him, almost gagging on the fullness of 
his hardening cock, and wiggled and squirmed her hips 
in pleasure of his hot tongue in her cunt. She felt her 
needs boiling within her, getting ready to spew forth, 
and at the same time an increased throbbing along the 
entire length of his huge prick. Then he was moving 
away from her, breaking the contact of his tongue on 
her cunt, then he was moving his hips backwards and 
removing his prick from her mouth. He reversed his 
position and kissed her, burning kisses, hot and 
impatient.

He moved himself between her legs, then spread them 
with his own, his hands busy exploring her breasts and 
her hips and the soft mounds of her buttocks. Then he 
gently penetrated her tight cunt, moving slowly and 
almost shyly into her until the large throbbing head 
was secured within her vaginal lips, then stopped for a 
second, then moved gently and easily into her, the 
walls of her cunt accepting what seemed to her to have 
always belonged there, all the way until he was fully 
within her. The controlled passion of his hard prick 
beat gently against her softness.

He moved slowly in and out of her, bringing her feeling 
outward with each gentle stroke. She received him each 
time, sucking his hardened cock into her, then giving 
up easily when he moved it out, ready always but not 
hurried for the filling up of her again. Like a well 
running machine that had been set to time perfectly 
with her heart beats, his motion rhythmed with her need 
until she seemed to shift gear and want to move faster, 
wanted to feel the increased speed of that hard flesh 
move in and out of her hot cunt at greater speed. 

It did, the movements speeding up and up and then his 
arms going behind her legs and pushing them back and 
opening her more and then ramming into her and plunging 
into her, pushing up and up and feeling more and more 
wonderful to her with every in and out thrust until she 
came, at the exact same moment he did, her own fluid 
pushed back by the bursting hotness that he spewed into 
her. 

Then there followed a relaxation for the both of them, 
he still hard and tight within her, and they slept, in 
that way, shifting their positions only a little so 
that he was no longer full weight upon her. Marily felt 
at peace with the world, love for the man who had been 
so kind to her, who seemed to be so gentle and 
masculine and commanding of her body and spirit.


-= Chapter 13 =-

Fred and Marily awoke at the same time, almost the same 
instant. The room was still dark, but shadows of 
grayness played around the windows, the water slapped 
against the pilings under the house and seemed to be 
more insistent than it had the previous evening. Both 
of them lay without touching the other, aware that each 
was still there, and marveled at the discovery of each 
other, still not knowing the name of the person they 
had found.

Fred was almost sick. He had never dreamed that such a 
woman existed on the earth, had never dared think that 
he might ever make love to her. His mind kept telling 
him that she had to be married, that she was someone's 
wife since there had been only couples there. He 
thought it unfair, so ungodly destructive, to him.

His mind floated back to the time his mother had 
discovered him kissing his first kiss, an ugly girl who 
happened to be the daughter of his mother's best 
friend. She had hit him on the back with her fist, 
hard, almost knocking his teeth loose because they 
banged into the teeth of the ugly girl. His first 
sexual excitement had been turned off much faster than 
it had exerted itself. And then, he remembered, the 
ugly girl had told his mother that he had just attacked 
her, had just pushed her up against the wall and 
started kissing her. His mother had believed her.

He wondered what his mother would say to him if she 
could see him now, in bed with what he was sure was a 
lovely woman even though he had no idea what she looked 
like. She'd probably still blame him, fight at him, 
because he happened to be a male. So be it, his mind 
echoed deep within, may she rest in her self made hell. 
He wondered if the woman was thinking of him, was 
comparing him to her husband, perhaps. He moved his 
hand until he found hers, then folded the softness of 
it within his own, and slept again.

Marily had awakened suddenly, but not abruptly, and 
knew beyond doubt that the man alongside her was awake. 
She wanted to move her body to his, but yet wanted him 
to want her too, so she did nothing, lay still and calm 
and wondered when they had moved apart, if he had 
awakened and moved out of her. Then she realized that 
that would probably have happened anyway, because when 
Hans and Peter had slackened, had changed from hardness 
to softness, they had both withdrawn from her without 
effort on their part. She was still satisfied, no needs 
coming alive inside her with her awakening, so she 
permitted herself to think.

She had to face Fred as soon as the day came. That was 
certain. She would have to look at him, to hear his 
lament of dismay when he fully and finally realized 
what she had done, which he had also done, but she was 
sure that he would never forgive her. She didn't care, 
now, she told herself, because she had discovered her 
true love and he was still beside her. 

She was positive that he would feel the same toward her 
as she had toward him, even though neither of them had 
spoken a word, she didn't know yet who he was and... 
maybe he did know who she was, maybe he had plotted 
with Anna and Hans to have her. No, she doubted that. 
It had been a random thing, he had come to her from 
Anna. Just after Peter had left her--that he would know 
about, too.

She almost cried. Why had it taken her so long to find 
love, to be truly satisfied and fulfilled, and why did 
it have to be a faceless, voiceless body? Whom could 
she tell? Whom could she cry out in her joy to? No one, 
she answered herself, absolutely no one. She knew that 
she could never, never tell Fred. He'd kill her. He'd 
never been violent toward her, but she realized that 
like all men he had it there, well covered, perhaps, 
but it was there. She'd probably get a fine display of 
it early this morning.

She felt the hand searching for hers, enjoyed the 
warmth from it, the protectiveness of it, the strength 
she felt when it closed over her own. She was ready to 
be pulled to him, to have him make violent love to her, 
but he didn't. He simply took her hand and held it in 
his. And she felt good from the contact of him, knew 
that he wanted her to rest, to store up her energy for 
their coming bouts of love, of which, she assured 
herself, there would be many. She drifted off to sleep 
again, her mind at rest, her body relaxed.

Marily awoke again, fear pervading the whole of her. 
She did not jump, but awakened to an alert state, her 
mind warning her of some danger, close by, ready to 
destroy her.

Then, slowly, she realized what had awakened her. It 
was Fred's soft snore, close to her, roaring in her 
head now that she had recognized the sound. Her hand 
was still closed in the one she loved, but there was 
that snore. She didn't open her eyes, out of fear, not 
knowing what she should do, jump up and run and grab 
her clothes and never look back and risk waking him, 
wherever he might be, or simply to lay as she was, 
ready for slaughter and hope that the man she held onto 
would protect her.

She knew that it was light, that the sun was high in 
the sky, before she slowly opened her eye, the left 
one, easy like, to the rest of the room. She closed it 
much more quickly than she had opened it, snapping the 
lid down and squeezing it shut. Then she gradually 
opened both of her eyes together, and looked slowly 
around the room. She couldn't see into Anna's bed 
completely, but what she saw of Peter's head convinced 
her that it was he, that he was still in the room. The 
snore continued, somewhat louder, then stopped 
abruptly, leaving a huge emptiness for her fears.

She felt the big hand tighten on her, gradually, and 
she slowly turned her head and looked at him. She 
screamed.

In no time at all Anna and Peter stood over her, both 
completely nude, and Fred's face was just above hers. 
She felt as though she couldn't breathe. She gasped and 
panted and drew back from the look she saw on Fred's 
face. Then it changed, his lips parting into a smile, 
his eyes becoming soft and holding hers locked in his 
stare.

"Marily, Marily," Fred said, shaking his head in 
wonder. He leaned over her and kissed her lightly on 
the mouth.

"I didn't scare you that much, did I?" he asked, 
smiling at Peter and Anna.

"Oh... Fred," Marily broke into tears, unable to 
contain herself, happy that it was he. "Oh, Fred," she 
cried again, wrapping her arms about him. He held her 
tightly to himself, tried to console her.

"It was wonderful for me, too, Marily," he cooed, 
burying his face in the hollow of her neck. 
"Wonderful," he kissed her mouth again.

"Well," Peter throttled, looming above them with his 
sex dangling in front of their eyes, "isn't love 
wonderful? If you'll excuse us, Anna and I feel the 
need for food. We'll see you later in the kitchen."

Anna smiled her understanding to Marily, then turned 
and walked away with Peter. Marily looked at their 
buttocks moving away, Anna's full and voluptuous, 
Peter's thin and muscled and hairy, and felt like 
laughing at the contrast. She watched them dress, 
openly enjoying the two of them helping each other into 
their clothes, Peter clowning and crying out as though 
Anna had caught his skin in the zipper when she closed 
his fly. 

Fred laughed, too, and watched the two of them, his 
eyes traveling over and down and then back up over the 
beautiful figure of Anna. She seemed like a goddess to 
him, almost as much a woman, he felt, as Marily. 

As soon as they left the room, both of them waving 
merrily to them, Fred shoved the cover off Marily's 
body and looked at her full breasts, her slightly 
rounded and smooth, flat stomach, the pubic hair that 
outlined her sex perfectly, her rounded hips. He let 
his eyes feast on her, the beauty of her, thankful that 
she was his, and then went to her and kissed her and 
moved his body onto hers.


-= Chapter 14 =-

More than an hour later Fred and Marily went to the 
kitchen and were invited to have breakfast by Anna. 
Everyone was especially nice to them, particularly Hans 
and Anna. Anna made them sit at the counter of the 
breakfast nook, served them cold tomato juice, arranged 
their plates and silver and napkins. Hans busied 
himself at the stove, talking all the while of the 
breakfast that he was preparing for them. He 
flourishingly filled their plates with a mushroom 
omelet, delicious to both of them, then sat and watched 
them eat it and talked to them.

"So," Hans laughed, "I heard a scream this morning, 
from Marily. I think I know why. Ya! You have 
discovered your husband, right?" He spoke directly to 
her, but smiled in Fred's direction.

Marily blushed, ashamed that she had caused such a 
scene, and nodded her head. Fred surprised her by 
laughing, then said, "I almost screamed myself, Hans. I 
might have if she had not. We were both shocked."

"That is good," he told them solemnly. "You make me 
think of myself and my wife. You are just like us, I 
think."

Now Fred blushed, thinking of his fucking of Anna, how 
delightful had been his discovery of her or her of him 
or both of them of each other. He could find nothing to 
say to Hans, even though he wanted to put into words 
his appreciation of him and of Anna. Hans expected no 
less, so he continued, seeing the need to put both of 
them at ease.

"Let me tell you, both of you, but mostly for Fred. 
Please. I left East Germany when I was sixteen--a teen-
ager as you Americans say. I was a small boy when the 
war was over, when the Russians came into my village. 
They were animals, every one of them, all the officers, 
all the men. They destroyed everything that stood in 
their way. They were like children. If they do not get 
their way in all things, they become violent. The day 
they arrived, we were all afraid of them, I can still 
hear my mother saying to me 'Hans I must hide you. God 
only knows what they will do to the children.'"

"There had been many stories. Many. I thought that the 
Russians would eat the children. I think that perhaps 
my mother thought so, too. So, she did hide me. In the 
basement. I remember that I was so fearful of the dark, 
very much afraid. I think I may have cried myself to 
sleep. I do not remember. I do remember one night 
hearing my mother scream, amidst the noise of shouts 
that I did not understand and door slamming and rifle 
butts against the walls of the house. Then, my mother 
she screamed again, loudly, making a sound that I did 
not know any woman or man could make."

"I crawled up from the basement, from my hiding place, 
and looked through the door. I saw my mother being 
raped, I did not know at the time that that was what 
was happening to her, but it was. They had her on the 
table in the kitchen, and one big man was raping her, 
others were holding her and there was a line of men 
behind her, all dirty and big and they all had rifles 
and guns and ammunition all over them. My mother she 
could not cry out. 

One was at her face filling her mouth with his large 
pole, another was shoving himself cruelly into her 
vagina. I watched it all, hating every one of them, 
wanting to kill them. I did not know what they were 
doing to her, never had I imagined such a thing could 
happen to a person. Each of them took their pleasure 
with her. They were about twenty of them, then they 
left. I went to my mother and she looked at me with 
sad, sad eyes."

"I cried. She did not. She got up from the table, went 
to her bedroom and I remember hearing her in the 
bathroom, then she came back to me. She took me on her 
lap and said that she did not know how to tell me but 
she must. 'I have been raped, Hans. You will understand 
the word one day. All men do. All men are prone to do 
this.' I remember that she cried, and she pushed me 
away from her. I remember that. I can see the whole 
thing now by closing my eyes."

"But, from that day on I always thought of myself in 
connection with the Russian rapists. Always. When I was 
thirteen and I had the first desire of sex, I turned it 
off. I did not want to be like the Russians. I did not 
want to hurt any woman as I had seen them do my 
mother."

"Then we escaped to the West. My mother and me. I never 
knew, never saw my father to my memory. He did not come 
back from the war. There life was more easy, there were 
automobiles, there was a school for me, and there were 
girls I could have had. But I could not. I wanted to, 
but always there was the picture in my mind of my 
mother and the Russians. I did not want to hurt a girl, 
a woman. Then, I met Anna, four years ago. 

"I was a virgin. Ya! Still. I loved her when I first 
saw her. I married her. But we were not happy. I could 
not tell her why we could not have what she would 
consider normal sex relations. But she told me. She 
showed me by introducing me to this club. I tell you 
this because I think your story is similar to mine. I 
think it is always a mother who puts the blocks to 
happiness in a boy's mind. They do."

Hans looked closely at Fred, knew that he had hit close 
to home. He wanted both Fred and Marily to know that he 
liked them, that he wanted to help them to appreciate 
the better things of life. He wanted them to accept 
each other, to be happy with their chosen partners. 
And, he was astute enough to realize that it was Fred 
who had put the blocks in the way of their happiness.

Fred hesitated, then smiled at Hans, forcing it at 
first, then meaning it sincerely. "You're right, Hans. 
I think, too that mothers put the block there. But I 
don't think that your mother wanted to. I mean she had 
no choice about being raped by the Russians."

"True, but she did not have to say that I was a male 
like them, even so. She could have chosen other words 
and saved me years of suffering. Right?" He asked 
passionately.

"No. I would never have forgiven her," Anna said, 
sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him on the 
cheek. "Every woman wants to make her man over and I 
had the chance. I would never have forgiven you if you 
had been different."

They all laughed with her. Fred smiled his silent 
thanks to Hans for the telling of the story that must 
have been painful for him, because he realized that he 
did it to show him, Fred, that his hang-up over his 
mother was not unusual.


-= Chapter 15 =-

Both Fred and Marily enjoyed the remainder of the 
party. Each of them had been reluctant to let the other 
go, to permit him to take another partner with the new 
drawing at lunch time, but they did. Marily was paired 
off with a man she had not noticed before, an older 
man, who was the medical doctor for the whole group.

Fred won Vivian. Even though he was not delighted with 
the prospect of her, she was with him. She talked, 
compared him to all the other men in the room, pointed 
out to anyone who might be listening all his virtues, 
his handsomeness, his frank and beautiful eyes, his 
tallness, his slimness of hip and verbalized her own 
desire to have those same hips grinding against hers.

Fred was embarrassed at first, then realized that no 
one was listening to her. She talked on and on, holding 
his hand, then releasing it and putting a drink in it 
and then holding it again, never stopping, never 
expecting an answer. Fred blushed deeply with one 
thought: that the only way to stop her talking was to 
fill her mouth with his prick. The idea jolted him. He 
had truly never had such a thought in his life and so 
he sat red-faced, looking at her moving lips.

Vivian knew what he was thinking. She liked the idea 
that it should make him blush. She talked on, but she 
pulled him off the couch and took him up the stairs to 
the bedroom. Once the door was closed, she stopped 
talking long enough to give him a hot burning kiss on 
the mouth, grinding her pelvis against his, then 
continuing with her monologue, "Age is not always a 
drawback, we learn so much as we grow older," she 
unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his chest 
then to his back and said, "If what I think you were 
thinking is correct, you were right in your assumption 
and I want you to prove it to yourself." 

She kissed him again, taking his tongue into her mouth 
and her hands fumbled with his belt and then his zipper 
and his pants fell around his ankles, and she took her 
mouth from his, "And I've wanted you ever since the day 
you moved into the house across the hedge from me and 
help me take this off," she moved his hand to her bra 
strap and he unsnapped it and was surprised that she 
had such full, firm breasts, then laughed at the 
thought that her lungs would have to be bigger than 
anyone's, and she moved his hands to her skirt and that 
was gone and she led him to the bed.

"What beautiful, streamlined muscles, I like them all 
and I want to explore the whole of you and I'll stop 
talking and use my tongue for better purposes," and 
they were on the bed and she was forcing him down and 
she was on top of him, still going strong and she 
probed her tongue in his ear and took it out and "I 
like to make you squirm and your sex is already hard 
and good and it makes my flesh all goosebumpy and," she 
moved her mouth down his body and bit and talked and 
kissed and he squirmed under her and suddenly she was 
silent except for the quiet wet sucking noises she made 
with her mouth on the head of his prick. But not for 
long.

"Wonderful, wonderful," she murmured, kissing his balls 
and biting at the flesh just under them, then he felt 
her tongue probe into his rectum and he raised his hips 
up because the feeling was new and wonderful to him.

Vivian ate and talked her way back over him and kissed 
his mouth and told him he was ready and he mounted her 
and drove his hard rod into her and she gasped and 
didn't talk and he fucked her hard. He was surprised at 
her tight pussy, at her ability to use the muscles in 
it to suck his hardness deep into her and release it at 
her own desired speed and time.

Suddenly she had established the most erotic rhythm for 
the both of them and then they came, together, and Fred 
was happy, was satisfied with her and with himself. 
Surprisingly, she did not start talking immediately 
after, but rested silently, and her hands roamed over 
him, expertly, and when she did start talking it was 
unhurried and quiet and restful to him.


-= Chapter 16 =-

Marily and Fred were not displeased to have the party 
end. They had both benefited from it, and this both of 
them knew as they drove home. Inside the house Marily 
looked around, felt that she was seeing their home for 
the first time. She turned to Fred and he took her in 
his arms and kissed her as she had never been kissed 
before. She liked it, she loved her 'new' husband. "Now 
you'll be too much for me," she told him, feigning 
pushing him away from her.

"I'll try to be, darling," he said, taking her again in 
his arms and moving his hands down to her soft, full 
buttocks and pulling her pelvis into his. "And I can 
try better in the bed, too." He moved her toward the 
bedroom.

Fred's and Marily's happiness increased daily. Marily 
had some struggle with her own feeling because Peter 
came to her house twice during the week and Hans 
invited himself over once. She was surprised that she 
wanted Peter and Hans, just as much as she had the 
first time. She enjoyed Fred more than either of them, 
yet there seemed to be the need within her for other 
men too.

She hesitantly told Fred about Peter's first visit, and 
he had laughed at her, told her that she was becoming 
insatiable, then seeing her brow wrinkle laughed and 
told her about his daily visit during lunch to Anna or 
Vivian or Katherine. She was jealous, then laughed at 
herself for being so, then told him that he might pay 
her a lunch visit someday and see how strongly she 
could show her appreciation. He promised to do so the 
following day. He did.

Marily no longer had to go to the Patio for her morning 
cigarette, but she did anyway out of habit. She enjoyed 
the fresh air and it tended to bring her fully awake in 
the morning to go there and have a cigarette. There was 
generally dew on the ground, all the small creatures in 
the world were starting their day, moving about slowly 
and then more rapidly, eating and looking for food and 
she had come to appreciate the closeness of all the 
creatures in the world, had even come to some kind of 
philosophy about man and insects. 

She was sitting in the patio one morning, thinking 
about the four parties she had attended with the group, 
and someone spoke to her. She looked toward Peter's 
house, thinking that Vivian must be home and was coming 
to visit her, but she saw no one there. Then the voice 
spoke again, said, "Over here." Marily swung her head 
around and saw where the voice was coming from. It was 
the yard in back of their house, rather than at the 
side of it.

Marily stood and looked at the beautiful young girl who 
was speaking. "Hello," she said to her. "I'm Marily and 
you must be the new neighbor. I knew that someone had 
moved in because of the lights, but I hadn't seen 
anyone about. Come over and have some coffee." Marily 
opened the gate, looked at the curvaceous petite blonde 
as she stepped into her yard.

"I'm Sam Kingsley," she said, smiling. Her eyes 
sparkled.

"Sam?" Marily asked.

The blonde laughed. "It's short for Samantha. Sam."

"Well, Sam, welcome to the neighborhood. What does your 
husband do? I haven't seen him."

Marily did not miss the momentary scowl on her face 
before she answered. "He's in business. Electronics." 
She did not elaborate.

"That's nice. Mine, too. How long have you been 
married?" Marily asked her.

"Eight months. Sometimes it seems like years, then at 
other times it seems like only yesterday." She sipped 
at her coffee, said nothing more for a few minutes, 
then asked Marily, "What is there to do here? My 
husband's so busy and he wants me to get to know some 
people and... well, he's very conservative, Marily, 
very. I suppose I am too, but... it's strange being 
here. There's just so much to do in the house and then 
it's all done and the whole day's there facing me." She 
stopped talking and shook herself and her face colored. 
"I'm sorry, it's just that..."

Marily knew what it just was, but she wanted to hear it 
from Sam. "Just what?" she asked, softly, encouraging 
her.

"I don't know, really. I just thought marriage would be 
so different. I thought that one could let one's self 
go, sort of... enjoy life. But it isn't that. Tom--
that's my husband--he's so interested in business that 
that's all he has time for. This week-end he's going to 
be gone and I'll just be here without anything to do. 
I'm sorry, I have no right to..." She stopped, 
surprised at her own boldness in talking to a stranger 
as she was.

"I understand, Sam. I like you. We'll be good 
neighbors. We can start right now. Could you do me a 
favor? I need to go shopping and I promised my husband 
that I would be here to make his lunch--he manages to 
come home ever so often--and I'm sure that he would 
like to meet you and your husband, so," Marily rushed 
on, the plan having formed suddenly in her mind, or the 
beginning of it, "Would you have lunch with him? You 
could get to know each other." She smiled at her.

"Well, I'd love to. I mean... sure, if you think it's 
all right. I'll make some sandwiches and a salad 
and..."

She looked closely at Marily. "How very nice of you, 
Sam. I'll leave him a note and he'll be right over as 
soon as he comes in. And thank you. I just have to go 
out and I was thinking about calling him and telling 
him to eat downtown but this is sort of a special 
surprise for him, an added something to the week when 
he comes home. You're sure you don't mind?" Marily 
smiled sincerely at Sam.

"Oh, no, not at all. I'd like to meet him. I wish Tom 
would come home for lunch. It'll give me something to 
do and look forward to," Sam assured her, standing and 
smoothing her stretch pants over her hips.

"Good. I'll see you when I return, then. And thank you, 
Sam. Very much." Marily watched her go, assuring 
herself that she had done the right thing. Then her 
mind turned instantly to her own problems. Where, she 
wondered, was she going to spend three hours? She would 
shop, she decided, taking a piece of paper and 
beginning a note to Fred. 

DARLING,

LUNCH IS WAITING AT THE HOUSE IN BACK OF OURS. WE HAVE 
A NEW NEIGHBOR WHO REMINDS ME OF MYSELF NOT TOO LONG 
AGO. SHE IS PREPARING LUNCH FOR YOU. BE GENTLE... 
BUT FIRM!

LOVE,
MARILY

She dressed quickly and left the house. She felt good 
even though pangs of jealousy gnawed at her heart. 
But... what greater love could any woman have for her 
husband, she smiled contentedly to herself.

The 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. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 63