The cold, winter rain beat a relentless tattoo against the glass panes of the bedroom window, and Victoria Young shivered involuntarily beneath the thick quilt covering her firm young body. The curvaceous brunette drew it tighter around her chin, listening to the gurgle of water in the roof drains, and wished her husband, Kirk, were home on this afternoon of all afternoons.
It was New Year's Eve.
But he wasn't home, and he wouldn't be home until six o'clock – it was a little after three now. He was a physical education teacher at Valley Glen College, and had the misfortune – or fortune, depending on whose point of view was taken – to be a hundred miles away in Lakeland, coaching the college's freshman basketball team in the championship game of the Holiday Classic Tournament.
It would be nice, she thought, if Kirk were here right now, lying with me under this warm old quilt with his arms around me. Perhaps we could even make love; yes, that would be nice – to make love with Kirk on this cold New Year's Eve afternoon.
She thought about her husband of less than a year, about his tall, handsome body and his pleasantly freckled face topped with that funny little shock of dark red hair. She thought about his quiet tenderness, his concern when she was feeling low or under the weather, his self-assurance about future prosperity, when his enormous talent was realized and he was entrenched as Valley Glen's head coach. He often talked of the day when they could live in their own home, perhaps one of the older but aesthetically appealing homes along faculty row or one of the newer, more modem ones in the hills above the campus, instead of this small and somewhat shabby guest house six miles north of the college on a once prosperous citrus ranch now withering into obscurity under the crush of exorbitant property taxes brought about by the greed of the area's land developers; when they would drive an elegant Cadillac or Lincoln instead of the five year old Volkswagen they owned at present; when they could have a couple of kids and take yearly vacations to exotic ports of call such as the Virgin Islands.
And Vicki believed that all of these things would one day come true, because she believed in Kirk. He was ambitious, and was willing to put in long hours to achieve the goals he had set for himself and his lovely raven-haired wife; Victoria, in turn, was just as willing to sacrifice such things as companionship on a regular basis and luxuries, both personal and household.
Still, Vicki thought, there were times when she wished that such sacrifices did not have to be made – times like now. She had begun to picture her husband's strong body as it looked when he was naked, and the mental image caused little tingling sensations to race along her flesh. He had such a magnificently muscled body, with little curling red hairs and a flat, hard stomach that curved into a thickly thatched mound of dark red pubic hair. And his penis – so long and hard, trembling like a leashed animal when he was aroused, its head so thick and reddened and secreting warm white seminal fluid…
Vicki flushed a bright crimson at the thought of her husband's huge sexual member. God, it was so big it frightened her at times; she remembered her anguished cry on her wedding night, the thought that it would split her apart. Her fears had been groundless, of course, since she had been able to take all of it inside her – and quite comfortably, too, after the first initial pain of her broken maidenhood. Kirk had been gentle with her on their honeymoon, and she had found herself able to respond to his lovemaking very quickly, to even achieve an orgasm once in awhile. Her mother had once told her that most women never reach a climax in marriage, and she considered herself a lucky and blessed person to be able to cum with her husband perhaps once every four or five times they made love.
Lying there on their big, brass-framed double bed, beneath the heavy quilt, the voluptuous brunette knew that this afternoon was one of those times that she could – surely would – reach orgasm with her husband. But Kirk wasn't here. She couldn't have sex. She couldn't have an orgasm…
Now relax, she told herself, he'll be home at six and you can make love then. The party at Dr. Kaye's isn't until nine, and that will be plenty of time – six to nine – to do it. Oh, but damn it, I can't seem to get the picture of that wonderfully hard penis of his out of my mind… I can almost feel it inside my vagina right now, moving in and out while he kisses my breasts and puts his tongue in my mouth…
"Now stop that!" Vicki reprimanded herself. Think about something else, for heaven's sake; it's not going to do you any good to get yourself all worked up like this and not be able to have release. Think about the party tonight; think about Doctor Eric Kaye.
Victoria smiled to herself as she pictured the salt and pepper haired, distinguished looking psychology professor for whom she worked as a personal assistant. He was extremely good-looking, polite and well-mannered, and a privilege to work for; she considered herself extremely lucky to have been chosen over a number of other applicants four months previously. There were times when she wondered why he had selected her over some of the other girls who had applied – oh, she had all the necessary qualifications, of course; she had been to college, which was where she had met Kirk, and she had excellent grades and references – but still, some of the other girls had been equally well-qualified. Well, perhaps she had impressed him somehow during their personal interview, and that was why she got the job.
Vicki had to admit Eric Kaye was an extremely attractive man, one whom she would definitely have been inclined to fall for if she wasn't already married. He had a smile which could melt butter – that had been one of her mother's favorite expressions – and he made you feel very at ease when you were around him. She had caught him casting an appreciative glance her way a time or two which couldn't be considered of the strictly impersonal type, and she supposed he found her attractive too. But he had always been the perfect gentleman – had never so much as intimated a pass at her much less made an actual overture.
That was the reason she had eagerly accepted his invitation two days ago to have her and Kirk spend New Year's Eve with he and his wife, Christine, at the secluded home in the hills above Glenview. They had decided on a quiet evening, he had said, and since Vicki had mentioned to him that she and her husband hadn't anything planned for the occasion, why shouldn't they spend it together? They could have a couple of drinks, talk shop, and get to know one another socially.
Kirk had thought the invitation a Godsend when she had told him about it, and had accepted at once. He had told her that an evening with Dr. Kaye – who was one of the most respected researchers and lecturers in the field of behavioral science in the whole state – was to be considered not only an honor, but a potentially valuable asset to his own career. When you labeled such men as Dr. Kaye among your personal friends, you had one foot in the door already to tenure in one's chosen field. There were few administrative committees of which Dr. Kaye was not a respected and influential member, including the Faculty Appointment Committee, that illustrious group of individuals that held in their weighty hands the fate of all faculty appointments, be it Chairman of the Department of Physical Sciences… or head coach. Vicki couldn't remember Kirk having been happier over something since she had told him she was going to work for Dr. Kaye those four months previous.
It promised to be a fine evening if Eric Kaye entertained as well as he performed the duties of his profession – and Vicki was certain that he would. She was looking forward to it immensely. Who wanted to go out to a nightclub or a boisterous house party on New Year's Eve, anyway? Crowds, a lot of noise and too much drinking, not to mention amorous inebriates who had but one thing on their minds and didn't care whose wife they fondled at the stroke of midnight. No, she didn't want any of that this New Year's Eve; she just wanted to be with her husband and with someone like Eric Kaye whom she liked and admired and enjoyed talking to.
The young dark-haired girl shivered again as the sky grew blight for a brief instant with a zigzag flash of lightning, and a clap of thunder rumbled outside the bedroom window. The rain hammered against the panes as if demanding entrance. Vicki sighed, wishing she could fall asleep and have the nap she had intended for herself when she'd come to bed. But she was wide awake, and still thinking about Kirk, about him nakedly lying there with her on the bed with his arms around her…
Once again, the mental image of his huge, warmly pulsating penis came into her mind. She tried to dispel the lewd picture, but it refused to go away this time; she kept seeing his thick shaft of virile flesh vividly, as if she could reach out and touch it. The little tingling sensations had increased now, and she could feel her nipples harden beneath the old housecoat she wore over her brassiere and panties.
Now this is silly, she chided herself primly. Stop it this instant, Victoria Young! You're twenty-three years old and too big to indulge in sex fantasies, for goodness sake!
But the vision of Kirk's long hard cock remained in her mind. And it was joined now by another image, a scene from her pre-marriage days when she and Kirk were just engaged. Lying there, she remembered the occurrence clearly, very clearly and graphically…
It had been a hot night in early July, and they had just come from a small dinner party at the home of Kirk's parents in Santa Rosa, over a hundred miles north of the college both were attending at that time. The dinner had been given in honor of the soon-to-be-wed couple, and both their parents – as well as a select group of their respective relatives – had been present. There had been several bottles of California vintage champagne consumed during the course of the evening, and she and Kirk had had their share – and then some. They had departed shortly before midnight for the drive back to the campus.
She had sat very close to Kirk on the drive, feeling closer to him mentally than she ever had before. She even put her hand on his leg, stroking it gently but without any real sexual connotation. When they approached Stinson Beach, Kirk suggested they stop and park awhile on a remote section of the highway overlooking the dark, restlessly stirring ocean. Vicki, feeling the effects of the champagne, didn't object; she was in a responsive mood, and the idea of parking with her betrothed for a little light pre-marital kissing and petting did not seem in the least wrong to her.
Kirk put his arms around her and drew her tight against him the moment the car was stopped and the headlights switched off. He kissed her then, their mouths fusing with the ease of lovers, and she opened her lips almost eagerly to accept his probing tongue. Their tongues met and tasted one another, exchanging a lover's kiss. Kirk's hands were restless on her back and shoulders, moving back and forth, up and down, around and over her low-cut white silk dress. Vicki felt an almost overpowering surge of desire at the nearness, the intoxicating male odor of the man she loved; his kisses were eliciting a full and total response inside the bride-to-be, and when his moving hands gradually worked their way around to lightly cup her firm full breasts, she made no effort to stop him from doing so. Her mother had warned her against allowing Kirk to become too familiar before their wedding night, but the closeness she felt for him at that moment transcended all the parental warnings and instilled taboos.
He began to caress her lushly ripened breasts in earnest then, as his eager tongue probed in and out of her opened mouth. God, his gentle touch felt so good on her! She wrapped her hands in his hair, kissing him even more passionately, and then his fingers had dipped inside the low-cut front of her dress to slide inside her brassiere. The contact of his hand on her naked flesh thrilled Vicki beyond recall, and before she knew it, she was allowing him to unbutton the back of her dress and slip the garment down over her shoulders. His deft fingers found the catches on her brassiere, unsnapped them, and she felt a cool rush of air against her now-erect nipples as her firm white breasts were fully exposed to Kirk's hungry gaze.
He began to stroke her naked young breasts gently with his palms, rolling his hands over her perfectly-formed voluptuous mounds before bringing them up to massage the hardened nipples. Taking the taut, dark-brown buds between thumb and forefinger, he tweaked them into a quivering rigidity. Vicki moaned with increasing fervor as Kirk's caresses wrung soft cries of delight from her throat; little shivers of arousal began to course through her, and she had felt a warm wetness up between her legs seeping from her excitedly throbbing cunt.
Even when Kirk's head dipped down and his wetly heated lips encircled one of her erect little nipples, tongue swirling round and round the goose-bumped areola, Vicki didn't feel any panic. Even though this was the first time she had bared her breasts to a man, or had their nakedness kissed, the thought never entered her mind that what she was doing might lead to uncontrollable passion. The young brunette was with the man she loved, and she felt safe, felt warm and somewhat drowsy, and very excited as his gently sucking mouth moved like a hungry child's on her soft, pliant breasts.
But then, suddenly, one of Kirk's hands left her ripely quivering breast and moved down to stroke her thighs where the hem of her dress had slipped up. His fingers hungrily traversed the silky soft skin of her inner thighs, then moved upward, sliding the dress still higher until the tips of his searching fingers were resting on her warmly moistened vaginal mound and the white silk of her panties were glistening in the pale moonlight which shone in through the car's windshield. Only then did Vicki feel the first stirrings of panic for Kirk had groaned and clamped his lips hard around her rigid nipple while his other hand squeezed and kneaded the resilient flesh of her naked young breast. The squirming young brunette felt confused, uncertain; she wanted to be rid of his moist warm mouth on her bosom, his lusting touch on her bare flesh – and yet she didn't want to be free of it. For a moment, she was undecided, and that was time enough for Kirk to bunch her dress at her waist and begin caressing the smooth, flat plane of her exposed belly.
His fingers had slipped inside the elastic waistband of her panties almost before Vicki realized what was happening, and suddenly he was tugging the flimsy material down, down over her pubic area, sliding her panties from under her nakedly quivering buttocks. The moist heat of his palm pressed against her hair-covered pussy mound, and rippling waves of erotic pleasure threatened to blank the young girl's mind completely of the consequences of his actions. Gently, he insinuated his outstretched middle finger into the soft warm virginal slit up between her thighs, parting her moistly sensitive cunt lips and probing at the thin hymeneal membrane which gave mute testimony to her unsullied reputation. Meanwhile he was using his thumb to tweak the sensitive nub of her clitoris, teasing over it again and again and causing a sharp cry of commingled fear and intense pleasure to bubble out of her throat. Her hands in his hair tightened, pulling his head down harder against her breasts even as her voice was repudiating her actions by moaning, "No, no, no, no!" over and over.
A whispering, unmistakable sound had filled the car at that moment – the sound of a zipper being pulled hurriedly down as Kirk's hand left her breast momentarily. Her eyes fluttered open in alarm and, in the moonlight, she saw for the first time an erect male organ quivering in all its awesome passion. Abruptly, the fear routed her lust so that there was no longer a struggle going on inside her; the sight of his menacing blood-filled cock decided matters for the terrified young brunette. She had to stop him, stop him right now!
"No!" she cried, trying to twist away from him on the seat. "Kirk, for God's sake, don't! We… we can't… can't do this! It's wrong… Kirk, we're not married! It's wrong!"
"Please, baby, please!" he mumbled, his voice thick with the lust that was reflected in his dark eyes. His hand was stroking the full length of his thick monstrous penis now, she could see that, and her efforts to free herself became more panicky. Her aroused young fiancee was too strong for her, however, and before she could escape she had been forced back and down across the seat. It was then Vicki felt the smooth hot head of his lust-thickened penis touch her thigh, and she jumped from the electric contact of pulsating hardness against her fevered skin. Groaning in his uncontrollable passion, Kirk began forcing her now-tightly-closed legs apart, and the frantically squirming girl could feel his great pulsating cock trembling like an impossibly large wedge being driven into and splitting a tinder-dry log. As he rammed it repeatedly against her partially opened thighs.
And then, as if in the throes of some consuming pain, Kirk put both of his big hands on her nakedly quivering breasts, squeezing them painfully before lowering his head and planting hot, moist kisses upon the twin mounds, all the while murmuring like a madman, "Oh, oh, oh… oh, God, Vicki… baby… oh, Jesus, baby, I'm going to cum… I can't help it, Vicki, baby, I'm going to cummmmmm!"
She felt his hotly throbbing penis begin to jerk out of control against her soft white thighs, felt a hot jetting spurt splash against the innocent folds of her pussy – another, and another, a whole series of eruptions that flooded her vaginal area and thighs with sticky semen that flowed down to pool on the car seat beneath her. Kirk had been mewling and convulsively twitching above her, planting those hot, liquid kisses on her still quivering breasts as his seed emptied out of his wildly ejaculating cock onto her naked flesh while she tried to force him off of her…
Well, that had been the beginning, she thought, as she now lay beneath the quilt on the bed she shared with Kirk. Abruptly, Vicki found herself filled with the same kind of tingling arousal she had felt on that night. Her mind was beginning to drift with the same kind of mindless excitement, the same attitude of not caring about consequences as her mind carried her on to further heights of sexual fantasy – to the feel of Kirk's warmly pulsing penis inside her vagina, to the touch of his lips and hands on her naked flesh. She began to squirm in the growing passion on the bed, and her wetly aroused vagina began to secrete its liquid excitement, moistening her panties as it had that night in the car. There was a tender aching up between her legs, and the need for release of her ever-increasing passion was becoming strong, too strong!
Involuntarily, the young dark-haired wife's hands began to move down along her tautly rippling belly. Knowing what was about to happen, she forced them up, but they immediately went back down again as if they had a will of their own. The inside of her mouth was dry, and she ran her tongue over her lips several times in an effort to rid herself of the and taste. Oh God why am I doing this to myself? she thought dimly. Why am I getting so worked up?
But in that moment, she didn't care what she was working herself up to – even though in a comer of her brain she knew the answer. Her hands were moving sensuously around to her front now, moving across the full firmness of her pliant young breasts. Gradually, she began opening and closing her legs as she massaged her sensitive mounds of warm flesh, the sound of the thrumming rain on the window seeming to consume her very being. She watched, fascinated, her own fingers began plucking at the buttons on the front of her housecoat, opening the garment all the way down. Her hands traveled almost greedily up and down her body now, over the brassiere-encased mounds of her breasts, down to her throbbing pubic mound, across the smoothness of her taut little belly.
Vicki was a tall young woman, with long slender model's legs and fully rounded hips and breasts, and her hands seemed to be seeking knowledge of every inch of her proportionately lovely flesh. She ran her nails tantalizingly over the area up between her thighs, arching her long limbs up and spreading them open to the delicious, forbidden delights which her caresses were instilling within her body. Her mouth was parted, and her brain was whirling with the heat of her growing lust; she flailed her head from side to side on the pillow, her long, raven-black hair swirling in a tangled cascade of shimmering loveliness. The quilt was kicked off of her eagerly trembling body, as her hands continued their mad pace up and down, down and around, teasing her now-fevered flesh into even more intense arousal, her brain alive with lewd thoughts of her husband's long hard penis sawing in and out of her wetly throbbing vagina…
Vicki arched her back, her hands moving behind and under her to quickly unsnap the catches on her brassiere; she had to have her breasts free, had to touch the rigid nipples without the encumbrance of clothing. She pulled the brassiere off, tossed it to the floor beside the bed, and her hands hungrily engulfed the soft warmth of her alabaster mounds. Slowly, rhythmically, she began to roll the nipples back and forth, squeezing them and then releasing them, squeezing, then releasing…
The entire time she was thinking: no, no, this is wrong, it's evil… it's sick! I'm… I'm… yes, admit it, Victoria Young… masturbating! Masturbating like a teenage girl after she's read a spicy novel… I'm a grown woman, married, with a husband… and yet I'm lying here and playing with my own breasts… it's perverted, but, oh, God, it feels so good… so good…
Her tight hand left her nakedly quivering breast and moved slowly down over her stomach to the elastic waistband of her panties. In spite of her self-recrimination, her shame at what she was doing, she wasn't able to stop herself. There was only her urgency now, frantic need for release from the ever-building whirlpools of passions inside her shamelessly aroused body.
She was drawing her panties down now, drawing them sensuously over her pubic mound while her other hand continued to stroke the nipple of one breast. She raised up on the bed, pulling the thin wisp of a garment down to her ankles, her eyes tightly shut, and then pulling them off completely so that she was completely naked. She lay back again, one hand on her breast, the other stroking first one thigh, then the other, carefully avoiding for the moment the moist inferno of lust between her legs. Then, when she could stand the pressure no longer, her eager hand shot to the hotly pulsating folds of her pussy, and pressed against the wet sensitive flesh there as she once again brought her legs up off the bed and splayed them wide apart. Her tight little vaginal passage was opened wide now as she gently eased her outstretched finger into her wetly clasping pussy.
She imagined it was Kirk's hand, his finger, touching her there, stroking her down there. She imagined it was he who was now caressing her hair-lined cuntal lips until they seemed to be swollen with blood the way his long thick cock was swollen with blood, until her clitoris was as hard as his cock was hard. She found her sensitive nerve bud with the tip of her searching finger and began to tease it back and forth, running the nail round the quivering tip until the delight caused her to jackknife her legs back up against her chest, mashing her breasts flat. Her buttocks, white moons of the softest, most flawless flesh imaginable, jerked and twisted in complete wantonness under her fingering, and the resulting erotic sensations caused the sweat to bead and shine on her lust-grimacing face, matting her raven hair to her scalp.
Oh, God, I wish Kirk was here! she groaned through the daze of passion which controlled her brain. I wish Kirk was playing with my pussy… I wish he was going to put his penis… oh, his lovely hard penis… into my vagina and… fuck me, hard, harder until he came and I came… oh God I want to cum so bad, so bad… Kirk, Kirk, I need you, Kirk, I need youuuuuu!
Faster and faster and faster, Vicki's finger fucked into her moistly clasping cunt, deliberately teasing her clitoris and vaginal opening until her orgasm was only moments away. Her hips thrashed and pounded the bed beneath her, as her other hand squeezed and kneaded her nakedly quivering breasts and nipples causing wave after wave of pain-pleasure to ripple outward from her sensitive flesh. There was no guilt, no shame for her in that frozen period of time; there was only the wonderful, rapturous feelings of impending climax which were filling her very soul.
Kirk, oh Kirk, please Kirkkkkkkk… ooooohhhhh God, pleaseeeeeeee…