Susie lay there exhausted, her head on Rita's thigh, feeling a fingertip toy with her clit.
She did not know how many times she had cum. She was worn out, limp, though her clit did not know it, the horny little thing!
Then the mirror-backed door opened and Howard came in smoking a pipe. He still wore his sarong, but the front now hung straight down.
Rita raised up and looked at him. She was wiping juice from her mouth.
He said, "I'm itching to know how my invention turned out."
Rita told him, "Susie says wonderful but my lips and tongue are better."
He shrugged. "I didn't intend competing. You know my viewpoint, that masturbation is its own good thing, an easy extension of fantasy."
Rita rose, rearranging them until she was sitting, Susie's head on her lap, from which cushion Susie gazed at Howard and saw the front of his sarong begin to tent out.
He laid his pipe on the chest of drawers and came to the couch, gazing at Susie's crotch. Her legs were sprawled apart. She lacked the strength to close them, though she was not sure she wanted to.
"Fascinating," he murmured. "Quite a clitoris!"
"I adore it," Rita said.
"Beautiful," Howard went on. "I've just been reading up on the subject. It occurs in about one woman in five hundred, clitoris giganticus, a minor mutation of the genes. You never hear about it because most women are embarrassed and keep it secret."
He bent down between Susie's legs and tweaked the hot little spike. Susie made no protest. Indeed, she was quite overwhelmed by the strangeness of this married couple, he accepting Rita's lesbianism, she smiling as he touched another woman's clit; astonished, silent.
Gazing at it, Howard slipped a hand under his sarong and massaged his erection.
Rita said, "Howard, you're overdressed."
He grinned. "Out of uniform, huh?" He untied his sarong and cast it away, revealing his fully extended penis, swollen straight out from his pubic nest.
The head, flared out like a cobra's hood, seemed to Susie a monster thing.
Rita was cradling Susie's head in the crook of her arm, raising her face to the huge swell of a tit.
She murmured, "Sweetheart, darling, Howard is so terribly horny. Just look at him! Would you like it? If you don't, I most certainly will."
Speechless, Susie swallowed hard.
Rita said, "In fact, I think you need it, to prove that cunt-lapping isn't everything."
Susie still could not speak, but gazing at the distended flesh of Howard's penis she felt a livening in her belly, a squishy pulsing.
Like the mouth of her love hole was doing those fish-lip sucks, blinking at him.
Howard knelt between her legs.
Rita, still holding her white hemisphere of dark-capped breast, leaned toward him, reaching for the horny prong.
Susie felt a cuntal wrench, like a hard swallow, and with that she said, "I guess – it feels like – I need something – inside me…"
Howard came over her and Rita grasped his stem. He lowered himself into the spread of Susie's legs, guided by his wife's hand, and when the purplish knob of his cock had descended below her pussy bush and out of sight Rita nudged it to the right and Susie felt the spongy mass slide into her hole.
In with a swish, into a channel so loose that there was nothing to make him hesitate, just sliding up her until he was fully socketed, and she, feeling his first hot throb, gave a yelp and arched up, screwing herself at his loins.
She had strength in her legs then, she lifted them and hooked her ankles on Howard's back.
She began humping, groaning as she squeezed her gaping pussy at his loins, and pulled her vagina through long, milking squeezes.
He cried, "You're sizzling in there, Susie!"
"I'm going to cum," Susie croaked. "Oh gosh, Rita, I cum all the time, my cunt is so hot I don't know what to do with it!"
Rita laughed. "Just fuck, darling. Fuck hard!"
Susie buried her face in Rita's breast, groaning, finding a nipple and sucking at it.
She saw Howard come down far enough to kiss his wife.
So she licked and sucked the growing nipple, watched them tongue-kiss, and felt her insides roar on the horny cock that impaled her.
She felt a wave of guilt. Here she was enjoying Howard's cock inside her just as she had Phil's. But her husband called her frigid!
Oh, it was shameful, this trio, she sucking Rita's breast while clenching her legs on the flanks of the woman's husband, seeing the big cock lift out of her cunt, dripping juices, then slide back in with a whispering sound. Her openness, her gushing vaginal fluids, they were animalistic, like her grunts of feral pleasure!
Howard was kissing down Rita's arm, finding her other breast, wolfing it into his mouth.
And Rita cried, "Oh my darlings, suck hard, suck my tits! I'm going to cum from tit-sucking, oh-hh, don't stop, suck and pull!"
Susie gobbled fiercely at nipple and areola while wrenching through a cum, a hot bloating that made her vagina feel as big as a football, then shrinking down, stripping Howard's hard cock as though to squeeze it to a ribbon.
The spasm of heat blinded her, and she guessed that for a second she had passed out.
Then Howard was roaring.
He had begun to buck rigidly, ass jerking as his cock flew in and out.
Rita was moaning, her hips jerking, moving the couch as much as were Howard's lunges.
"Suck!" she groaned. "Darlings, suck my TITS!"
Then Howard bored in.
He grunted hoarsely as he screwed his cock around. It felt as big as an arm and clenched fist to Susie until her cunt did one of those expansion things, swelling hugely, gaping as though to take in his testicles along with his penis, and she shrieked as another cum started.
Howard drew back, paused, then plunged in firing.
She felt the dollops of hot milks spatter her cuntal cavern.
She was passing out. Her mouth slipped from Rita's tit end.
Her swelling vagina stopped growing and fell in on itself, quivering as little gulps of flesh sucked in his creamy discharge.
His fucking became more violent. Her legs had fallen from him and she lay sprawled, limp, a mere hole now for him to ream.
Hot stuff was running down her ass.
He blasted again, again. Each time the heavy jism came striking like lead.
Her final cum took everything away, all feeling and strength, and Susie, smiling, collapsed and let the world go away wherever it wished.
At midafternoon a bewildered and dazed Susie found herself in the bathroom of her own house, squatting on the john, slipping the nozzle of her douche up her vagina.
She squeezed the bulb. Warm water washed sex juices spattering down into the bowl.
She had slept for hours in the swing room. Awakening, finding no one about, she had taken her tunic to the wardrobe, slipped into her dress and staggered home.
Washed clean she rose, put the douche in the medicine cabinet and gazed at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were hooded, smiling at their secrets. Her lower lip, pink and moist, pouted provocatively. She got a comb and whipped it through her hair until it fluffed, a tawniness with sunshine in it, and there was high color in her cheeks. You look so pretty, Susie, she thought.
She had brought her bra and panties home in a wad, wore only this yellow summer dress with button shoulders. On impulse she unbuttoned the right shoulder, folded the material down under exposing her right breast the way her wood-nymph tunic did. Her breast cap looked still a bit puffed. She rubbed it to conical protrusion, powder-pink and luscious looking. What a nice tit!
Her gaze fell on the clit sucker on the sink.
She picked it up, frowning, and went thoughtfully out of the bathroom, hiking up her skirt and rubbing an itch in her pussy.
In the kitchen she popped a Coke, took it to the living room and flopped down on the couch. There she wound her skirt up to her waist and as she drank she toyed with her clit. When it had firmed she wetted the plastic bell in pussy juice and by expelling air from the rubber bulb she sucked her clit right into the tube.
She shivered with pleasure as the horny little spike gave a throb.
Slowly she squeezed, gently released the bulb, watched the pink growth ooze up the tube.
Then she fingered her bare tittie, milking out the nipple, thinking how she had called masturbation self-abuse. All changed! A matter of viewpoint. This let her wallow in thoughts of the house next door, humping to meet Howard's powerful fuck thrusts, licking into the livid split of Rita's pussy; her hand in Phil's pink panties, massaging his cock and balls. But there was something else, a burgeoning pride in her clit, which Howard called one in five hundred.
Maybe, using the clit sucker, she could make it grow bigger.
What a turnabout, after a lifetime of shame over the dangling morsel of erectile flesh that her pussy hair did not always conceal!
She glanced up at the wall mirror, then moved down the couch to face it directly. She raised her feet to the couch, heeled it while spreading her legs wide, and gazed at the split between her legs, like a vertical smile edged with brownish hair.
She dropped the clit sucker to see if it would remain there, held by partial vacuum. It clung, all right. She switched her hips, watched the rubber-bulbed tube flail about her pussy lips.
She giggled.
Then, laughing at her mirror image, she fisted the bulb and languorously worked it, pulling her clit through a voluptuous cum.
In the mirror her vaginal mouth, a glistening coral oval, sucked in on itself.
Brian, she thought, if you could see your wife now!
Did Brian really see her at all?
That evening he seemed bemused, no drinking before supper except for a beer while he worked on some papers in his den. He was going to ruin Clayton, he said, by reorganizing the man's department in such fashion that it would be under his, Brian's, thumb. But later in the evening he phoned Clayton, and laughed boisterously while talking of office things Susie did not understand.
Sometimes he whispered into the phone, and she guessed this was to conceal something she would understand, and it had to be women.
She thought, wives should work at their husbands' offices! How else can they share?
But maybe Brian was more pig-headed than most, more involved in those strange, man-type struggles, in which he stuck knives in Clayton's back while both laughed, about their clawing, throat-biting contest for supremacy.
Between phone calls to Clayton, Brian watched the ball game.
And Susie, gazing at his broad face, felt forced away to the world that she had begun to develop from what she had available, the entrancing house next door where Gwen did yoga exercises naked unto her shaven crotch, and Howard had invented the clit sucker, and Rita played Hawaiian ukulele, and where maybe Susie had dispersed Phil's worries about his homosexuality.
These two days had been full of firsts, fucking with men in defiance of her wifely vows, going down on pussy, and masturbating with joy instead of shame.
One first remained, sucking cock.
Tomorrow?