The ride back to the neighborhood was agonizing for Bob. Marsha had given him the keys to drive and then had snuggled up next to him and teased him with her fingers and hands all the way home. He had weakly protested when she had unzipped his fly and wormed her hand inside his pants, teasing him into hardness. There was no way he could resist in the heavy traffic they were going through so had just sat in tortured silence as she stroked and fondled him at will. It was obvious she was enjoying his discomfort and kept up a steady stream of seductive conversation describing the things she was going to do to him when they arrived at the house.
He had never been so happy in his life as when they pulled up in front of the Burns' residence and he could fight her away. He reddened slightly and she laughed beside him as he had difficulty in pushing his hardened penis back inside his trousers.
"You could just leave it out," she kidded with a laugh. "It'll save time later."
Bob got out of the car and opened the door for her and, with a guilty look at his darkened house next door, followed her into her own house.
Once they were inside, Marsha led him straight through the living room and back to the den, pausing only once to collect a key from a cabinet in the hallway.
"Now, I'm going to show you our little pride and joy." she said with excitement "We entertain some of our more select friends here once a month or so."
He followed her silently when she drew back a curtain in the den and unlocked a leather-padded door and descended a set of stairs into the basement. It led them into a hallway that had two rooms off each side of it. They were beautifully decorated with the main item of furniture being a large king-sized bed that covered most of the floor space. The walls and ceiling were almost all mirrored, with each room otherwise done in varying colors. One was red, one was blue, and the other two were done in green and yellow respectively. She commented proudly on each as she led him on to a larger room at the end of the corridor. It was large and round with curved couches lining the walls that looked more like beds because of the width of the seats. A bar about fifteen feet long lined one side of the room off to the left. Marsha guided him there as Bob's mouth gaped open in wonder at the expense that had gone into this place.
"Now, what for a drink?" she asked, noting with satisfaction that he had been deeply impressed so far with their entertainment area.
"Scotch will do," he answered, his eyes still wandering around the room in amazement.
"No," she smiled, "I've changed my mind. I'm going to give you our little party special. You may need an aphrodisiac to keep up with me."
She walked behind the bar and brought up a bottle filled with a thick green liquid. It was labeled 'Pernod'.
"Pernod?" he asked quizzically. "That's no aphrodisiac. You can buy it anywhere."
"Not this kind, you can't, love. It's the old type they used to drink in France during Hemingway's time. It's outlawed now."
"What's so different about it?" Bob answered with an unconvinced tone in his voice. "It looks the same to me."
"It's made from absinthe which comes from the wormwood tree," she explained as she poured out two half glasses and filled them the rest of the way with water. "It's against the law everywhere now but Spain and Nassau."
Bob watched the thick green color slowly change to a milky white as she poured the water in. He was fascinated by it and in spite of her terming it an aphrodisiac was anxious to try it.
"There you are," she said, after dropping in several cubes of ice. "Give it a try."
Bob, following Marsha's lead, lifted the glass to his lips and took a small experimental sip. It tasted like licorice and was smooth going down. He lifted it again and took a larger sip.
"Like it?"
"Mmmmm," he answered, "doesn't seem all that potent."
"It gets you when you least expect it. Never makes you dull and sleepy like alcohol, either, just leave a mellow, smooth feeling in you all the time you're drinking it.
"And the aphrodisiac part?"
"That will come, love, that will come," she smiled, reaching over the bar and patting his hand. "Now let me show some of the other wonders of our little meeting-place."
"And just what kind of meeting is this? You've got to admit it's a bit unusual for an ordinary social gathering."
Marsha tightened her grip slightly on his hand and directed a soft, secret smile at him.
"Let's just say it's for a few discreet friends of our that we have over now and then. But don't worry about that now. You'll learn a great deal more about it later. I'll see to that."
"They must be quite discreet, I must say," Bob mused aloud to her.
"Yes," she laughed, "They are. But you still haven't seen it all. Watch this."
She turned to the back of the bar and flicked a small switch on an instrument panel. A sliding panel opened directly behind the bar, exposing four rows of large twenty-seven inch television screens set next to each other. Above each row was a printed sign designating the colors Red, Green, Blue and Yellow.
"Someone likes his TV, I can see." Bob laughed. "But I didn't know we had that many channels in town."
"We don't, pet. It's closed circuit TV. Watch this."
Marsha flicked the switch labeled red and to Bob's amazed eyes the screen sputtered for a few moments and then burst forth in color. The first row of screens marked red showed a red bed at different angles. Number one screen at the top looked directly down on it from above. Number two screen showed it from one side and number three from the other. Number four camera was aimed at the foot of the bed about level with it so that it would show the feet of anyone lying on it.
"Recognize it?" she asked.
"It looks like the red room we were just in a moment ago." Bob answered, a surprised tone in his voice. "And a pretty complete view too."
"You get an 'A' for that little observation. Now watch this."
She turned a knob beside screen number four and it brought the bed in for a close-up.
"They all have adjustable telescopic lenses that can be controlled from here. Not bad, eh?"
"No, not at all," he whistled, "I'd hate to be a poor guy making love to his girl in there. There's not much privacy."
"That makes it that much more fun when you know someone's watching but you can't see them. Now, one more gimmick that we're really proud of. Watch the big screen on the opposite wall."
Marsha pushed another small switch and suddenly the view from screen number four was transmitted to the huge movie screen across the room. She played with the switches far a few moments, flicking back and forth from the image on each of the screens and bringing out any she desired in full blow-up on the big screen.
"Good grief," Bob muttered in disbelief. "How is that set up?"
"Just like a heavyweight fight in a movie theater. And sometimes," she added with a laugh, "the action in those beds gets just about as rough."
"You don't mean you actually use those thing, do you?" he asked, realizing ac he said it, that it was a foolish question. No one spent the fantastic amount of money that must have been necessary to build this thing under their house for no reason at all.
"Just when we get bored, my dear," she kidded him. "Here, you make the drinks this time. If you're going to be a good neighbor you have to learn about these things. I'll take a walk to the little girl's room while you're fixing them. I'll use the one in the blue room. Push the blue button and I'll show you what I mean about how much fun these can be if you use them for the right things.
She squeezed Bob's hand tightly and disappeared into the corridor toward the blue door. He walked slowly around the edge of the bar, almost afraid to touch anything after the electronic display he had just seen. He was afraid he might accidentally push a wrong button and blow the place sky-high.
He looked over the switchboard carefully and cautiously pushed the button marked blue. While it warmed up he turned to the bar and poured them another drink. He added a little more this time, admitting to himself that it did have a nice soft effect. He was already feeling light-headed and a "don't give a damn feeling" seemed to be spreading over him. In fact, he felt damn good. A helluva lot better than he had in a long time, for that matter. He added a little water to each of them and testing his with a good substantial gulp, turned back to the wall where the row of screens marked blue had come on in perfect automatic focus. The whole of the room was visible with the bed centered right in the middle of the screen. It was almost a better view than being right in the room. He had a completely unimpeded view of the whole area. He hated to think how much a set-up like this had cost. It staggered the imagination, the amount of work and know-how that had gone into setting it up.
Taking periodic sips from the now familiar absinthe, he began to study the switch and dial system. It was so well marked that even a child could operate it. He assumed that all one had to do was stand at the bar and tell the bartender what one wanted to see. He could zero in on any specific action in any room that looked as though it might be interesting.
But who in the hell did they fill those rooms with? It must be one of those neighborhood swap set-ups he had read so much about in the papers recently. But God, how did they get away with it without someone who would disapprove catching on and turning them in? It wouldn't take more than one puritanical neighbor to upset the entire thing. Unless… they were all part of it. The thoughts floating through his mind were suddenly cut short by a voice coming from a small speaker over the row of sets tuned in on the blue room. He turned and looked in surprise. Marsha was standing at the foot of the bed looking directly at him through the TV. She had walked out of the bathroom attached to the room while he had been absorbed in his thoughts and begun speaking to him over the intercom.
"Hi, enjoying yourself?"
He was too surprised to speak.
"Don't be bashful, just talk. I can hear you over the speaker."
"Y-Yess, I am surprised," he finally answered after recovering from the abrupt shock of seeing her on the screen.
"Well, don't be," she smiled. "Just go ahead and drink your drink while I get more comfortable."
She looked at him again out of the corner of her eye and added with a slight teasing curl on her lip: "You can watch if you want to."
He looked down at his glass again, embarrassed. He was thinking how stupid it was when she was not even near him. How would he feel if she were looking him in the eye and saying such things? He drained the glass again for the smooth energizing courage it seemed to be giving him. It was odd, but with each further sip of the milky white liquid the fears he had been carrying since they left the restaurant seemed to be slipping further and further away. A strange confidence that he had never possessed before seemed to be seeping magically through his blood, so smoothly, that he had hardly noticed the change. He marveled at the effect. It just wasn't like alcohol at all. There was no deadening of the senses of touch or thought, in fact if anything, it intensified them.
His thoughts returned abruptly to Burns' wife on the screen behind him and he turned just in time to see her dropping the simple black cocktail dress she had been wearing to the floor. He felt a slight jerk from his prick beneath his pants as her body came into view. She was moving slowly, allowing the effect she knew it would he having on him to sink in. She knew how it should be done to do exactly this. There were no lewd or obscene movements on her part and she behaved as though she were in her own dressing-room, unaware of his existence. He felt somehow like a peeping Tom looking into a window from a secret hiding place in the driveway.
The lewd thought somehow made her performance more appealing to him.
He felt another slight jerk under his pants, his prick hardening slightly this time as she turned from the camera and bent over to pick up her dress from the floor. The full rounded moons of her buttocks came into tantalizing view in the camera pointed at the foot of the bed. She couldn't have been more than three feet from the lens and it gave him a completely unimpeded view of the narrow nylon strip of her panties between her firm full thighs that tightened momentarily as she bent over. The panties slipped teasingly into the crevice of her buttocks from the pressure of the position and then remained bunched up in the hollows as she straightened up again to take the dress to a hanger on the wall. He watched her with bated breath now as she walked across the room, the cheeks of her buttocks joggling slightly as she moved. It was a careful, practiced walk that smacked of the stage though imperceptible unless one knew she had worked as a dancer.
Harry had been right about his wife when he had said she was built. He could understand now why they had hired her in Vegas. There was a lithe suppleness about her that dripped sex and nothing else. He was certain she had lost nothing since that time as her body was still perfection. He was still awed by the fact that she seemed so much more mature and worldly than he, though it was apparent she was not much older.
One thing was certain now, he could not back down from her. If she needed it badly enough to go this far then he didn't stand a chance in the world of getting that account unless he went along with her. Also, damn it, it was as much Carol's fault as his. She could have prevented this entire situation if she had just delayed her trip home by one day. It hadn't been asking too much of her. She deserved his infidelity if that's what it took to make up for the job she should have been doing of keeping his client's wife occupied with small talk.
His mind droned on, the cool liquid rationalizing away the defenses he had built up earlier at the restaurant with each further sip. He watched Marsha more intensely now as she turned back from the wall dressed now only in bra, panties, and garter belt. The thin veneer of the stockings she wore shone silkily in the not-too-bright light of the room and her black high-heeled shoes set them off to good effect. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd like to take her like that with the stockings and high heels still on. He had never had a woman like that and though he had sometimes tried playfully to pull Carol down on the bed while she was undressing, she had always, in her best puritanical manner, pushed him away and continued her preparation for bed in the bathroom. Come to think of it, he had not seen her that way very often. She seemed to have a thing about it that he could not understand. She didn't like for him to see her partly dressed or naked.
He had tried to explain to her that a man needed a little preparation for it just as women did and couldn't just crawl in bed and begin to go at it without some kind of prior titillation. But God, this Marsha Burns knew about these things. She knew what a woman's body was for and he bet she knew how to use it in bed, too.-there could be no doubt about that.
He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it hurriedly across his brow to absorb the tiny beads of perspiration that were beginning to form from the tenseness of his body. He quickly poured another drink from the bottle he had left standing on the bar and drained half of it before the ice even had had time to cool it properly. He needed it now as the erection in his pants had risen to almost its full height. The tight restricting material of his shorts hurt and he pushed down, allowing it to slip out one leg band into the greater looseness of his slacks. It helped for a moment.
"Bob," he suddenly heard the softness of her voice coming over the speaker in front of him. "Bring my drink."
He jumped slightly from the unexpected sound. almost knocking over his glass. He had been too immersed in his thoughts while watching her move on the screen to be prepared for the sudden summons.
"Bob," she repeated softly again. "Are you there?"
"Y-Yes," he stammered back to her. "I'm bringing it now."
"Well hurry, it's impolite to keep a woman waiting when she's cold this way."
She pursed her lips softly at him through the distance of the screen and sat back slowly on the edge of the bed. Bob flushed for the third time that evening as he tried to force his erect cock back into the tightness of his shorts. He couldn't walk into the room like this. It was too obvious. After a moments struggle, he got it pressed down the best he could and reached over and switched the TV sets off. He started hesitantly toward the hallway with both drinks in his hand, his courage bolstered by the strangeness of the Pernod. No thoughts of resisting remained in his mind now, only the hesitancy of his own inexperience, but this self-doubt was fading rapidly.
His neighbor's wife opened the door for him, staring at him and smiling slowly. She was wearing a light nylon robe now that came just to the tops of her thighs and it was obvious that she had shed the bra and panties while he was bringing the drinks. She had left the garter belt, sheer silk stockings and high heels on. The deep cleavage of her breasts showed without impediment at the top.
"Mmmmm," she grinned over the top of her glass she had taken from his hand. "You're learning quickly. Just the right amount."
"I've been practicing on myself," Bob answered raising his glass toward her. He suddenly found he didn't feel nervous at all. He felt the beginning of a glowing power and self-confidence that he had never experienced before. He felt marvelous, as if he had finally found the true strength within himself, one that had lain latent during all these years he had been married to Carol, all these years that he had catered to her modest, schoolgirl ideas about making love. He knew that making love to this woman standing almost naked before him was going to change him and perhaps nothing less would ever satisfy him again.
Marsha lowered her eyes for a moment to the bulge at his crotch. She grinned again, a bit more forcefully this time.
"You like me," she said simply, with a twinkle in her eye, "I can tell."
"You're most observant," he laughed nervously, "I didn't think you'd notice."
"How could I help it? You're quite a man."
She settled herself on the edge of the bed, leaning hack on both her elbows. The softness of the robe rode up over her thighs, exposing the soft silky down of her pubic mound at the base of her smooth white belly. She patted the bed beside her, indicating for him to sit.
"Well," she said after he had settled himself, "tell me something about yourself. You know, I really know very little a!-out you-or your wife."
Bob was taken aback for a moment. What was there to say about himself or Carol either, for that matter? But before he had recovered from the surprise question enough to answer, she said: "No, it isn't really important now. We can talk about that later when we get to know each other better. Do you like the Pernod?"
"It makes me less inhibited. I will say that," he kidded, reaching over with one hand and tracing small tiny circles with the sharpness of his nails over the whiteness of her stomach.
Marsha shivered for a moment at the first contact of his fingers against the softness of her flesh.
"Mmmm, it makes you braver, too. At first tonight, I didn't know if you were going to get in bed with me or not."
"That was a hundred years ago, I think," he smiled over to her, feeling a slight flush from the drinks. "Shall I get us another drink?"
"There's some in the cabinet," she pointed to the corner of the room. "We've got all the services, including automatic ice machine."
Bob rose, taking her glass from her hand and glanced down at the thin hair-lined lips of her vagina clearly visible between her slightly parted legs. He did not blush this time and a pleased smile crossed over his face as she opened them a little more, a teasing grin lining her lips. He could see that she was excited. The first tiny dewdrops of moisture rising between her legs were faintly visible glistening in the tight narrow slit as she exposed herself to him. He hurried with the drinks this time, the heat in his own body rising rapidly.
When he returned to the side of the bed with the drinks, she had loosened the front of the robe, exposing the large full mounds of her breasts, the ripe ruby nipples staring up at him wetly. She had moistened them with saliva from her tongue so that their pink bud-like tips throbbed slightly from the touch of her own fingers against them.
"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, staring down at her nakedness with the drinks in his hands. He could see that her eyes had dilated a little from the excitement also. It was all he could do to keep from dropping to his knees in front of her and locking his lips to the softness of her flesh at that very moment, but he held himself back. He sensed that she needed more. She knew what making love was about and wasn't the kind of woman one just jumped on top of and rammed it into without preparing her well for it. The reward would be well worth the torture of waiting.
"You're not bad yourself," she smiled up at him smoky, reaching up for the drink he offered. "In fact, you're quite a handsome young man."
"I'm not that young," he defended. "Almost as old as you."
"Have you had many women? Other than you wife, I mean?" She asked, matter of faculty, as though it were a perfectly normal question.
"Enough," he lied, leaning over her and kissing her lightly on the lips as though he had done this kind of thing all his life.
She pushed him away for a moment.
"Here, put my drink on the table, darling. I'll spill it."
He took both of them and placed them by the bed quickly and then leaned over her again, pressing his lips tightly down against hers. She reached up, curled her arms around and pulled him down on her. One of his legs fell tightly between her open thighs. She was surprisingly supple and soft and her body was glued into his as though it belonged there. She moved her thigh up against his crotch as he ground his lips harshly into her, bringing his cock to a painful hardness. He could feel the wetness from the seminal fluid seeping from the gland on the hardening tip. It smeared against his leg inside his pants until he was certain she could feel the wetness through the material. She continued massaging him with a practiced thoroughness until he thought the head would explode. It was jerking now as though he would cum at the slightest extra pressure and he would, he could feel it building deep in his testicles below. He thrust his tongue deep in her mouth as she sucked gently on it, nibbling with tiny sharp nips of her teeth that sent chills running the length of his spine. He pulled his head away to escape the teasing sensation and placed his cheeks against her hair, thinking guiltily for a moment of Carol and the shock it would be to her if she could seen him now, stretched over the almost nude body of their neighbor's wife. Her girlish innocence wouldn't believe it. She just didn't know infidelity existed.
"Is your wife good in bed?" Marsha suddenly whispered into his ear as though reading his thoughts.
"She's too inexperienced," he answered without the slightest shock at her name being mentioned at a time like this. Good Lord, he thought wryly, I've changed in the last few hours.
"I'll teach you some things you can take home to her." She promised softly, breathing heavily into his ear again. "Let's get naked."
He realized suddenly that she was quivering beneath him. Her thighs were moving against his loins.
"You want to fuck me, don't you?" She breathed deeper this time.
"Yes, God yes, I want to." He answered, the lewd words coming from her mouth exciting him more. "Then tell me!"
"I want to fuck you."
"How?" she groaned beneath him.
"Deep, deep and hard. I want to fuck you like you've never been fucked before."
"Oh God," she moaned, almost throwing him from her squirming body. "Get you clothes off before I die."
He rose from the bed and began desperately stripping his clothes from his body. A slight tinge of self-consciousness came over him as he dropped his pants and shorts and stood over her still lying on the bed with his cock standing out in naked erection in front of him. She lifted her body slightly and squirmed out of the flimsy robe she was wearing, leaving her with nothing on but her garter belt and hose. Her black high heels fell to the floor with a double thud that sounded almost as a single sound they come so close together. She looked up at him standing stark nude above her. Her eyes riveted on the penis standing out in the air. She watched the throbbing of the blood-filled head for a moment, and said, "I like it. It's going to feel good going inside of me and twisting around deep in my cunt. Oh God, I want you to screw me with it."
He lay down on the bed beside her, dragging her over to him with the strength of his arms. He moved one hand down to the smoothness of her buttocks and cupped them. They were beautifully shaped and sinewy as he had expected them to be. Her body was warm and soft against him and she raised her face to his, locking her mouth tightly to him as her hand searched down between them for the hardness of his penis. He gasped as the coolness of her fingers closed around his rigidity. He pressed his head forward and kissed her moistly back. Her odor was maddening, a perfume that he didn't recognize, but reminded him dimly of the freshness of spring azaleas. Her lips were soft and gave before the harsher pressure of his teeth with a yielding rubbery softness that sent tiny chills over his skin. She crushed the full length of her body against his and ground her pelvis tightly into him before suddenly twisting her body and pulling him over on top of her, opening her legs wide to take him between them.
Harry Burns sat at the bar in the "Playpen" with a triumphant grin on his face as he concentrated on the row of TV screens marked "Blue." He had entered a few moments after Bob had followed his wife into the blue room and switched the sets back on. He sipped contentedly from the tall Scotch in front of him as he watched the action progressing.
Damn, he thought, Marsha really knows how to handle herself in the sack!
He could feel a slight tinge of jealousy overcoming him as he studied her face and saw the unmistakable signs he knew so well. This was no put-on act, but then, he should know by now that with her it was never put on. She just liked to screw and that was that. He switched the set pointed at the foot of the bed onto the large screen on the wall to get a better view and turned the volume on the small cartridge-type tape recorder in front of him higher. He didn't want to miss any of this. He had plans for this tape. It was going to get him inside the wife of this bastard getting ready to screw the hell out o f Marsha now. He leaned back with the contented thought of those long slim legs of his neighbor wrapped tight around him as he shoved his cock into her and fucked her within an inch of her life. By God, he'd show her what a piece of tail was. She'd never forget it as long as she lived. He could feel his own prick hardening at the thought as he turned his attention back to the two bodies struggling on the giant screen on the wall across the room. Small beads o f sweat began to form on his brow from the excitement he always felt when he watched another man fucking his wife.
Marsha crushed Bob tight to her and ran her hands searchingly down over his body, exploring eagerly the secret hollows of all of him. His cock was resting hard against her thighs, pressed into the narrow hair-lined slit of her cunt. She arched up for a moment levering them both up off the bed with the strength of her back and, reaching under her buttocks with both hands, pulled her vaginal lips slowly apart giving his penis greater contact with the wet sensitive flesh as it lay the full length of the moist gently throbbing slit. She relaxed, dropping her body back to the bed, his rigid member trapped tightly between her thighs.
He forced his hands between her shoulders and the mattress and ran them down the soft curves of her back and hips. He could feel the raised ridges of her spine moving almost imperceptibly as she undulated her body up against him in a slow, teasing rhythm. The sinews of her muscles rippled lightly just under the thin tan skin indicating a powerful hidden strength in her body. The tenseness of the cords in her thighs pressed against the outside of his hips. He wondered how they would grip around him later when he had sunk his hardness deep inside her.
"Oh God, you feel nice," she whispered, smashing her lips against him again and writhing the flatness of her belly close up against him. Her nails trailed across his back, leaving small red welts in their path. He pushed his hands farther down beneath her, cupping the fullness of her ass in the palms of his hands and pulled her open crotch up tighter against him. He moved up and down slowly, insinuating the hardness of his full length up and down the widespread split, sensing it grow wetter and wetter with each passing second. Her ass began a more desperate rotation up against his loins until her legs, without warning, snaked out wide on either side of his body, her calves locking against the back of his thighs, pulling him tighter into her.
"Oooh, fuck me now, darling, fuck me now." She moaned into his mouth, her eyes clenched tightly shut, her pelvis grinding.
He started to move but she beat him to it. Her hands came down between them and circled around his throbbing cock, guiding it between the lips of her hot desire-moistened cunt. Bob groaned above her as he felt her move it up and down between her legs, parting the soft silky hair of her vagina with the pulsating blood-filled head. They grazed teasingly against it, forcing it into a greater hardness until it ached from the excruciating pressure.
He couldn't hold back another second and flicked his hips forward with a sudden cruel thrust that drove it with a flesh-splitting crash into the gaping hot mouth of her pussy.
"Ooooohh," she moaned beneath him as he felt the warm elastic-like sheath slip wetly over his sensitive naked flesh. It entered with a slight pop, as though she were a virgin being taken for the first time except that it was easier and infinitely better because she could control her vaginal muscles that way every time he fucked her. And he didn't intend for this to be the last time. He was learning, and learning fast, he wasn't going to let this get away for long.
His long, thin cock raced up her cunt to the full depths of her belly, warm and tight at first, aching the full length of the rigid member and then easier as the wetness of the passage surrounded him, lubricating the way.
Suddenly, he hit bottom, his balls slapping hard against the rounded cheeks of her ass.
Burns' wife screamed a low, animal-like scream beneath him, twisting momentarily to escape the sudden unexpected pain, but he thrust harder, screwing his pelvis tighter into her loins so there was no escape for her. She was skewered good and he lay for a moment to allow the pain of the sudden entry to subside, proud that he could hurt her this way.
He had gained the upper hand he knew because he had hurt her and she could not hurt back in return.
It was the age-old plight of woman and would always make her subjugated to man. He reveled for a moment in the power he possessed over another man's wife impaled beneath him and flicked the head again bringing another low moan from between her clenched teeth.
Goddamn, he's fucking her good, Harry Burns mused from his seat at the bar as he watched the fleshy hard instrument of his young neighbor disappear to the hilt between his wife's widespread thighs. He wondered with a half-cruel smile on his face what the kid was going to look like when he saw his own wife being fucked within an inch of her life that way by some guy she hardly even knew, namely, Harry Burns. An obscene thrill rippled through him at the thought and he half wished they would hurry. Marsha might not know it yet but she was going to get it again tonight after the kid finished with her. In fact, the way he felt now, thinking about ramming it in between those long slim legs next door, she was going to get it good.
Bob ground his pelvis into the squirming flaccid flesh beneath him as she strained back under him, arching her loins up at him, lifting them both a few inches off the squeaking mattress from the strength of her upward thrusts. She moaned ceaselessly beneath his pounding body, opening and closing her legs around his hips as she worked up and down in a chanting rhythm of intercourse as old as man's world itself. Her mouth gaped open wide, her head flailing from side to side on the mattress again and again in wild abandon.
"Oooh God, it's good, it's good! Shove your finger in my ass! Make me scream, damn it, make me scream!" she coughed at him in her daze.
He reached under her between her buttocks as he drove his cock rhythmically into the wetness of her cunt. He stretched the crevice of her ass wide, searching with the tip of his middle finger for her anus.
Suddenly he found it.
A small rivulet of warm moisture was running down the widespread crevice from where he could feel his hard rod of flesh sawing into her. It moistened the tight puckered little hole, lubricating it slightly and he probed experimentally for a moment with the tip of his finger. He pushed hard, feeling it give a little, and then suddenly the tight elastic nether ring gave way completely and his finger slid in up to the first knuckle joint. She jumped forward, almost crawling on her back across the bed to escape the first unexpected pain.
"Aaaahhhh, God it hurts!"
He thrust again, sinking it to the second knuckle.
"Oooooohhh! Yessss, yesss! Hurt me! Hurt me more!"
In spite of the pain, he felt her suddenly begin screwing her buttocks back on his finger until it was sunk to the palm of his hand. He jiggled it inside, rotating it around in the fleshy depths of her rectum. He could feel through the thin wall of flesh separating her two passages the underside of his cock sliding in and out of her and began skewering her between them, maintaining the same rhythm for both as she groaned on under him. His nail caught the flesh momentarily in her asshole scraping her and she jerked, but then caught up the rhythm again, opening her legs wide out over the bed to give him greater access to the ravishing of her loins.
Bob could feel his cock growing and expanding inside her until it felt as though it were going to burst from the exquisite pleasure building in his testicles as they slapped heavily against her buttocks below. It wouldn't be long he hoped, he knew he could hold it back. She had to cum soon. He began ramming it into her with long hard strokes in time with his finger skewering into her asshole to excite her more.
He could tell she was near completion as she gripped him tight between her thighs, opening and closing them around him in time to his long, hard thrusts into her. She gurgled beneath him, the sound coming from deep deep within her throat as though she had no control over it. He knew she was near and he continued his merciless thrusting with all his strength.
"Oooohhh, fuck it, fuck it hard, hard! Harddddd!" she chanted, mumbling all the obscene words that came to her mind and spurring him on with the pounding of her heels high on his back. She had jackknifed her legs up tight, pressing her knees back hard into her breasts and offering him the full opening of her upraised crotch. Her eyes rolled uncontrollably in her head, her face contorted and straining for the final explosion so near.
"I'm cumming," she coughed suddenly, her mouth gaping wide in ecstatic abandon. "I'm cumming," she repeated again as though convincing herself. She mumbled on incoherently until the sounds coming from her throat were a mass of jumbled unintelligible syllables whose meaning was known only to herself. She pulled back her thighs tighter until the whole of her stretched pink vaginal slit was presented up to him to batter and use as he willed. Her ankles locked over his shoulders, her crotch squirming beneath him in a wild uninhibited dance of abandoned ecstasy. Her mouth hung open wide, unseeing eyes gazed wide at the ceiling.
Jesus, look at her go, Harry Burns grinned in lewd excitement as he watched his wife racing for the final climax under the wildly fucking body o f his neighbor.
A low banshee style scream suddenly formed on the edges of her lips and then pierced through the sounds of the squeaking springs and the two panting bodies slapping brutally together. Burns' wife's nostrils flared wide and she screwed herself up on his thrusting cock and locked herself to him with all the strength of the thighs while her loins jerked spasmodically against his belly.
She held her breath for an interminable moment and then expelled it as though hit in the stomach by a solid fist, her body collapsing limply down into the mattress. She lay still, except for the uncontrollable quivering of her pussy still locked tightly around his tortured prick. He pushed deep into and then lay quiet, allowing her to rest for a moment.
It was all he could do to keep from continuing to screw into her. God, he had never in his life seen anything like it. He had never felt anything like it either. He throbbed the muscles of his prick deep in her belly, hoping to bring her to life again.
"That was nice," she mumbled. "I haven't had a ride like that in a long time."
"You're not finished yet," Bob gasped down at her, the ache throbbing hotly in his balls.
"God," she murmured in approval, "you held back for a long time."
"But not much more," he breathed hard, "I'm almost there."
"Roll over," she smiled sweetly up at him. "I'm going to give you a special reward for being so patient."
He pulled back, sliding his hardness wetly out of the soft warmth of her pussy. He hated to pull it out, he was so near to shooting it in her belly that he didn't want to stop but he had to let her have her way. It would be best the first time until he learned more about making love to her. He had never done anything with Carol but get on top of her and after a few quick strokes shoot off his load and that was it. She didn't like to play and he even had the impression sometimes that she merely tolerated his love-making and didn't really enjoy it. Well, maybe he'd learn some things that might make her change her tune about things.
He'd just let his neighbor's wife handle it from now on until he learned a little more about really pleasing a woman.
He reluctantly rolled from the softness of her body over onto his back, thin sticky trails of her orgasm following his cock across her lower thigh. He lay tense with his rigidity pointed straight up at the mirrored ceiling. He could see them both reflected in it and followed her movements expectantly without having to raise his head and look down at her.
She turned on her side toward him and, reaching out with her hand, began stroking him, sliding the loose flesh up and down in a slow, magical rhythm that caused his ache to increase almost beyond endurance. Then she rose to her knees and hovered over him on all fours, her face a scant few inches from the throbbing moist head of his prick. She held it tightly between both hands, stroking it between the flat of her palms in a teasing up and down motion that caused his loins to undulate in time to her maddening rhythm.
Her head dropped slowly toward the hardness of him and suddenly her tongue flicked forward, the tip boring teasingly into the wetness of the tiny gland on the end. He sucked his breath in from the sudden unexpected contact. Chills rippled along the back of his spine, bringing a groan from his lips. She brought her mouth down all the way and enclosed the whole of the sensitive head in a moist, warm pressure. Her lips tightened like an elastic band around it just below the head, trapping it completely inside the warm, wet cavern of her mouth.
"Christ!" he groaned, lifting his head from the bed and staring down at her contorted face. The sight of his hard shaft of flesh sunk halfway between her ovaled lips increased the sensation a thousand-fold. It was still wet from the juices of her orgasm and glistened like the stump of a wet tree along the part she had not yet taken between her soft moist lips. She massaged the soft resilient skin of his testicles gently with one hand and stroked the base of his cock between the thumb and forefinger of the other as she began to suck rhythmically up and down. He could feel the softness of her tongue twirling maddeningly around it at the apex of the withdrawal, the tip flicking magically across the tiny opening of the gland on the end. He flexed his buttocks, his head still raised, watching the top of her head bobbing up and down below. The sight of her labors made it all the more exciting for him.
Marsha could feel his throbbing reaction and began to suck his prick a little harder, the tips of her teeth digging gently into the hard resisting flesh, leaving small white trails where they had scraped the blood from beneath the surface of the skin. She shifted her position over his thigh without disengaging her mouth from his prick and kneeled on all fours between his open legs. She reached under his buttocks and cupped them in her palms, pulling his loins up tighter to her face. Her tongue swiped around and around the growing gland furiously until Bob felt it nearing the bursting point as she took almost all of the rigid shaft deep into her throat. He was certain she would choke but she continued the maddening sucking on and on.
Great swirls of heat were building deep, deep in his balls as he watched her face working above his sweating loins. He could see tiny rivulets of sweat rolling in thin droplets from the side of her body as she bucked over him like a demon gone mad. The muscles of his stomach tightened until he thought they would snap from the pressure as he arched his back up off the bed pushing even further between the moistness of her lips. Thin pink ridges of flesh pulled out from her mouth, clinging greedily to his thrusting cock.
He groaned over and over again, his lips working crazily and incoherent mutterings spitting from between his clenched teeth. Suddenly, he gasped. The moment was here and a low, guttural sound started from somewhere deep in his chest as he felt the hot sticky sperm begin its mad dash from the sanctity of his balls and begin spewing in hot thin streams into her sucking mouth. Her cheeks expanded and hollowed fish-like as she greedily swallowed the warm flooding gushes to keep from choking. She went on sucking wildly as he emptied him white-hot sperm into the wetness of her mouth. His hands tangled cruelly in her hair, holding her head to the throbbing of his loins as he pushed his squirting instrument all the way down to her tonsils. She coughed sporadically as she swallowed to regain her breath. He moaned his last and grunted finally in complete fulfillment. Slowly, his cock deflated in her mouth but she continued the gentle sucking, drawing every last tiny drop of the warm sticky sperm from his battered cock.
And then-there was nothing else.
She had sucked him dry and with a groan he collapsed, arms widespread, back across the bed. She nibbled gently at him for awhile, her head resting softly on his thigh and then crawled up over his body to cradle his head against her still heaving breasts. She bent down and kissed him full on the lips.
"Like?" she said softly after a moment.
"Mmmmmm" was all he could muster at that moment, looking up into her eyes with an appreciative gleam.
"I know more."
"Is there such a thing?"
"You can find out on Friday. We're having a party I think you'd like."
"You mean one of those orgy things?"
"Yes, but a nice one," she smiled. "We only have the best of friends."
"My wife's coming home."
"Bring her," Marsha said matter-of-factly. "She might enjoy it."
"Are you crazy?" Bob gasped suddenly, rising to one elbow. "She would blow her stack. Besides," he added as a serious afterthought, "I love her and wouldn't want to get her involved in what I think you have going on here."
"That's selfish. You're getting yours."
"That's different and don't tell me it isn't."
"It isn't. But anyway, you can make me an excuse to get out of the house. Just drive away, park down the block and walk back. It's simple. Besides, you could get twenty more accounts just like Harry's if you got to know these people. They all have more than they know what to do with and as I said, we know only the best of people."
"Twenty," Bob coughed incredulously. "That's a lot of money. More than most account executives bring in ten years."
"That would make you a hero at the bank, wouldn't it, love?" she grinned, reaching over and squeezing his deflated penis with her fingers.
"What's wrong," she cooed over at him, "can't take it again?"
"Not tonight, I've got to go to work in the morning. Also a lot of thinking to do."
"Harry'll change his account tomorrow. You can count on that. But-remember all the others."
"I'll think about it. It'll be tough finding an excuse to get out," he said, rising from the bed and pulling on his clothes. "Do I get another turn at you?"
"Don't rush yourself, lover. You'll have quite a choice and just may want to change your mind when you see some of them, but we'll find time."
"How did you get started in something like this? I just can't understand it."
"Curiosity, I guess. But anyway, it's a long involved story that maybe I'll tell you about some other time. And incidentally, this sort of thing isn't allowed outside the meetings," she grinned, "This is on my own."
"A cheating wife, huh?" he smiled back as he combed his hair out before the mirror.
"Something like that."
"Well, show me out of here. I've got to get some sleep."
Marsha rose and slipped on the thin nylon robe she had torn from her body so hurriedly a few minutes ago, and led him out the door and up the stairs.
A few minutes before, Harry Burns had switched off the TV screens, turned off his tape recorder and gone upstairs to their bedroom. He had a satisfied grin on his face. If he knew women at all, what he had on this tape was going to get sweet little Mrs. Benson flat on her back in a matter of days. He slipped from his clothes and crawled in bed to await the arrival of his wife. She'd better be ready, he smiled, that little session she put the Benson boy through just now had steamed him up until he was ready to explode.
"Goodnight, Bob. That was wonderful. I'm going to expect you to come Friday night."
"Goodnight," he kissed her lightly on the lips, a slight tinge of regret rising in his decision to leave and go home. "If I can make the contacts you say I can, then how can I miss it?"
She closed the door behind him as he hurried down the steps and then walked quickly back to the bedroom.
"Brilliant performance, my dear," Harry clapped from his sitting position in bed. "For a few minutes there I couldn't tell who was screwing who."
"Oh, shut up, Harry. I feel like a damn whore seducing that innocent young boy like that. I hope you got what you wanted."
"Don't kid me girl," he smiled at her from the bed. "I didn't see you fighting it when he was throwing it to you."
"Well, no," she answered thoughtfully. "I thought it would be all for effect, but you know, he wasn't bad to be so inexperienced."
"We'll change that soon. With what I have on that tape, we'll have both of them turned into the best in the neighborhood in no time at all. Did you get a smudge of that lipstick on his shirt?"
"Yes, dear, I did. But good luck with that sweet young wife of his. She doesn't sound like the type who's going to appreciate our kind of arrangement."
"That's the sweet part, love. The harder they are to get, the harder they fall, on their backs that is," he laughed. "Now come on and get in between these sheets. You've got big daddy all steamed up and ready to go."
"Okay," Marsha smiled down at him, pulling the robe from her shoulders for the second time tonight. "I can stand a little dessert."