The Straying Wife

The Straying Wife

Chapter 1

Nichole Parker's facial features alone were, in themselves, enough to

excite most men. It was a thin, heart shaped face framed by long black

hair that bobbed over her forehead. Her nose was long and delicate,

thin as porcelain, and tipped upward, revealing her flaring nostrils.

Her eyes were set wide apart and slightly tilted and her gaze was

direct, frank, unabashed. Her chin could be described as pert, her

mouth fleshy and broad, revealing dazzling white teeth whenever she

smiled.

All of her teeth were capped and paid for by Web Hardman.

Hardman, dressed m his habitual trademark of all gray, stood behind her

chair at that moment. Both he and Nichole were looking at a wall and a

white projection screen that was silently and electrically lowering

itself into position. It was lowering into position at Web's command.

In another few seconds, he would flick a switch, and a panel in the

opposite wall would slide open and a projectionist lens would focus

itself. Web would turn a dial, the lights would lower, and a movie, in

color, would be seen on the screen.

But, first, he had some other things on his mind. He wasn't worried

about security; he had plenty of that. All the servants in the house

could be trusted. He went to his ornately carved desk---imported from

Italy and once was used by none other than the Medicis---and took

something from the drawer.

Semi-concealing it in his hand, he walked back to Nichole and stood in

front of her, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Nichole sat, cool

and poised, an attractive young woman in a slinky dress that exposed

her long slender legs and most of her firm young thighs.

Web took her in for a moment, took m her beauty and her voluptuous

body. Just turned twenty one, she was in the prime of her life. Her

waist was long and thin, gradually tapering up into her rib cage then

blossoming (there was no other word) into large, ripely jutting breasts

... big as musk-melons, with provocative little shadows like half-

moons, under them. Her hips were wide and liquid, telling you by the

way she moved and walked that she had nothing on underneath other than

panties. At the moment Web stood looking down at her, she didn't even

wear panties.

Web knew this. Nichole never came to his home wearing any underwear.

The young girl shuddered to think what he would do to her if she were

to be so careless.

He stood smiling down at her, his face tanned, his features

distinguished. His tan hid an alcoholic flush, for Web Hardman drank

hard and long, and Nichole was truly afraid of him when he drank. Once

past a certain point, he was capable of anything.

At the moment, he had yet to have a drink. It was still early

afternoon. He looked down at Nichole sitting so sensually poised in the

big leather chair and spoke quietly, with an easy authority, for he was

used to being obeyed. "Pull your dress up."

Nichole obeyed immediately, hiking her dress high, almost exposing the

"V" of softly curling pubic hair that was half-buried up between her

thighs.

"Pull it all the way up."

His voice was still quiet, and Nichole again obeyed, pulling the dress

up so that it was around her waist, completely exposing the softly

fleshed flanks of her naked buttocks and her pubic hair. She sat,

feeling the cool leather against her warm skin, staring up at Web with

an attentive expression on her pert, Gaelic-looking face.

The middle-aged financier pointed with one long manicured finger. "Put

one leg over the arm of the chair."

Nichole only hesitated a second, blinking, before she obeyed, swinging

one long leg up and over the arm of the chair. With a barely audible

sigh, she sunk back in the chair, her eyes almost glassy, looking up at

Web with an expectant, almost depraved expression on her face.

Web looked down at her so obscenely posed. He saw her strong curving

thigh and the smooth, milky white inside of it, and his eyes raced down

to her loins with its sparse black pubic hair. He took in her roundly

panting mound of Venus and the way her fluted vaginal lips---ragged and

flushing under her pubic hair---were beginning to swell and form

themselves in a lust-pucker already. Her entire cuntal slit was

exposed, allowing a tantalizing glimpse of the pink lining of her pussy

walls that were already beginning to glint with the hot moisture of

sexual excitement. Near her mound of Venus, at the top of her slit,

bulged the nub of her clitoris.

Web liked Nichole. Over the years, he had trained the young girl well,

and she had been a good pupil, learning rapidly and eagerly. She knew

that she would be well rewarded for whatever task he put her to.

Besides, she had learned the joys of being bound, being subjected to

humiliation, being forced to do lewd almost unspeakable acts with him

or whomever he designated. Further, she had learned to submit her will

to his and let him do what he wished. She learned the rewards in

increased sensuality and molten, shattering, orgasms, and in the

financial rewards he so lavishly bestowed after his whim was satisfied.

She knew how to please him, and now she lounged back in the chair,

jutting out her mound of Venus, acting sluttish, enjoying her lewd

actions. Many a time he had reduced her to a verbal admittance of being

nothing more than a whore, and she had to admit she enjoyed it herself.

A wanton smile was on her beautiful face as he looked down at her

nakedly exposed cunt, and he nodded. "Good. Now, the other leg."

Nichole obeyed immediately, swinging the knee over the opposite arm of

the chair and letting her buttocks come to the edge of the cushion. She

glanced down and saw with delight how her wide-spread and eagerly

quivering little cunt glinted and glistened from moist excitement. More

than anything, she wanted to reach down with her fingers and caress her

wetly heated vagina---perhaps he would order her to do that---and

assuage the itching hunger that was growing there. She wanted to rub

her hands over her pussy and tease her clitoris, and then finger fuck

herself into oblivion. But she didn't dare; not without Web telling her

to do it.

He held his hand forward, revealing the thing he had taken out of the

drawer and kept half-concealed from her. At first glance, she thought

it was a new dildoe; it was made of plastic, was white, long, and

thick, like a penis. Nichole looked puzzled. "What is it?"

Web pushed a button on the bottom of it and the thing leaped to life in

his hand, vibrating noiselessly. He pushed another button and it began

sliding back and forth, like a white, rigidly erect penis in a sheath.

Nichole groaned and let her head roll back, her eyes half-closed. A

lewd smile was on her lips.

Web smiled back and stepped closer, between her wide-spread legs.

"Battery operated," he said as he held the vibrating sliding end on the

inside of one sleek thigh, near her wetly gaping vagina. Nichole moaned

again as she felt the pleasurable sensation. The vibrator was warm and

rigid---just like a cock! "I took the liberty of having it filled with

warm oil," Web explained.

"I love it," Nichole admitted thickly. And she did! She wasn't talking

just to please Web although it did, indeed, please him. The handsome

millionaire had been such an evil influence on Nichole's life that she

now looked at depravity as a way of life. Web was right and his

pleasure was her task. If she submitted herself to his will, submerged

her ego and allowed her lewdness and natural depravity to take over,

her task would be full of an intense and searing pleasure seldom, if

ever, experienced by other women.

She knew the vibrator was for her to use as Web handed it to her and

stood back, leaning against the desk. His arms were folded, his eyes

glittering, his hips twitching, as he watched Nichole turn the vibrator

on and let it slide all over her stomach and down into her pubic hair.

Web observed it all with a detached, almost cynical look. He watched

the way a scientist might observe an experiment he had set up or the

way am amateur horticulturist might check the soil and temperature of

his rare orchids. It was a thing that Interested him, more than a

hobby, more than a profession. With Web Hardman, sex was a way of life.

He was a unique and fortunate man, for he was born wealthy and had

grown up expecting the best that money could buy. He was educated

abroad and was really much more European than American.

The last descendant of a rich old family, he was the sum result of

almost incestuous in-breeding. Keenly intelligent, he had been, from

childhood, too intense and too interested in sensuality and those

pleasures which are forbidden by most societies. With endless wealth at

his command, a keen mind, a vivid imagination, Web Hardman was soon

tasting pleasures that most men only dream of.

Nor was he superficial about it. He pursued his activities with a

scientist's passion. He was clever and covered up his illegal

activities; he kept records in writing, on tape, and on film. Soon, he

had amassed a considerable library of rather interesting pornography,

some of which had enough overtones of sadism to excite the Marquis de

Sade. Soon, he treated people---especially women---like a scientist

would treat a laboratory rat: with objectivity and dispassion. His

thrill, his satisfaction, was in proving his theory: that any woman

could be reduced to a base, unthinking carnality in a matter of days.

Sometimes, in a matter of hours. His theory held that women were the

true pornographers, that their instinct and natural desire was obscene

and that they understood and loved depravity. He felt that there were

no depths of wantonness to which a woman would not sink if conditions

were right; and it thrilled and excited him to see his theory being

borne out, being lived out again and again, right in front of him.

Nichole was a most willing pupil. At first, because of her upbringing

and pride, she had been extremely difficult. But he had broken her. He

had broken her so completely that he was about to lose interest in her.

The challenge was gone; Nichole would willingly do anything he wished.

She had been under his influence about a year. In one year, she went

from an innocent young girl with ideals and aspirations to an eager

little slut who had performed every known sexual depravity. Nichole now

knew that she would never again enjoy what is commonly known as "normal

sex." She knew she could never be happy married to one man; never,

unless he allowed her to have orgies.

Now, she lay back in the leather chair with her dress pulled high,

revealing her ripely expectant loins. Naked from the waist down, she

sprawled, her legs slung over the thick arms of the chair and she let

her head loll back, her mouth slack and laxly open. The delicate

fingers of her free hand slid down and tangled in her pubic hair. Her

hips were slowly undulating and pumping in an obscene manner as her

free hand slid down on either side of the moist, pulpy lips of her

hotly twitching vagina. Using thumb and forefingers, she impatiently

spread her lust-swollen pussy lips and revealed the moistly pink inner

walls of her cunt. Below her thinly bearded vaginal mouth, her white

buttocks met in a deep tight crevice.

Web watched as her sensual young body shuddered in obscene delight and

her hips twisted and thrust forward so that her ripely fleshed buttocks

ballooned on the edge of the chair. Her head lowered so that she had to

look down at her eagerly writhing loins between breasts that jutted up

in front of her like snowy twin peaks. Her wetly quivering cunt was

tilted up high as she ran the long thick vibrator up and down the slit,

pausing to let it shudder over her erect little clitoris as her eyelids

fluttered and she gasped for breath. Already, her pleasure was wracking

her body with its intensity.

Quietly, Web Hardman circled around her as she wantonly slumped in the

chair, sluttish in her pose with her legs thrown wide over the arms of

the chair. Her nakedly quivering cunt was gaping open as she guided the

rapidly thrusting mechanical penis in and around her vaginal cavity.

She was moaning continuously now. The gray-haired older man walked

behind the chair and, leaning over it, reached down and began

unbuttoning the front of her dress.

He slowly pulled the bodice open, revealing her large, firmly upthrust

breasts that were spilling out of a flimsy half-bra. He knew that

Nichole was justifiably proud of her huge, but perfectly proportioned

breasts. The night he had broken her, the night she had reveled in

depravities and lewd behavior, the night she had admitted her inherent

wantonness and submitted her will to his, that wonderful night had

begun when he had her strip to the waist. Then, his bodyguard and his

chauffeur had seized her and forced her arms back. A pole, a broom

handle, was run long-ways between her back and her arms. Then Nichole's

hands were forced forward again, and she had watched as her wrists were

tightly and brutally tied together in front of her waist. The pole

across her back, locking her elbows in place, had forced her arms and

shoulders back ... and thrust out her nakedly quivering breasts.

She had been forced to stand in front of a mirror and stare at herself

before, at a signal from Web, his men began caressing and putting their

wetly open mouths on those out-thrust, defenseless breasts.

That night had been the beginning for Nichole. She was too thrilled and

excited to resist as she watched in the mirror. Ever since that night

Web had been able to bring her to an orgasm, just by exciting and

fondling her breasts.

Now he helped them free of the almost transparent half-bra and saw the

firm way they quivered and jellied on her breast. Her head was wedged

against the back of the chair and her chin was pushed into her chest as

she looked between her now naked breasts to see the big white plastic

prick vibrating between her legs. Web saw her wide-spread cuntal lips

as she ran her thumb over her clitoris and as the mechanical cock

quivered its way deeper into her wildly pulsing pussy. Her young body

was wantonly shuddering with pleasure as the vibration tantalized and

enflamed her sense.

"You have lovely breasts, my dear," he said, leaning over the back of

the chair and cupping their fleshy fullness m his manicured hands.

Nichole opened her smoky eyes halfway and saw his fingers caressing her

already distended nipples. "Thank you," she murmured thickly. With her

hands, she began rapidly pumping the vibrator in and out of her moistly

clasping pussy, the lewd parody of fucking increasing the feeling of

pleasure. She closed her eyes, as his pinching fingers and the vibrator

aroused her to where she wanted to scream her lust out. Her

voluptuously round body was suddenly out of control. She had learned to

give in to her lust without a reservation. Web liked that and ... so

did she. There was something so thrilling and enjoyable in acting lewd,

acting like a slut, not caring what people might think. Then, too, Web

had taught her the naughty and thrilling delights of being an

exhibitionist. He had forced her to be an exhibitionist and know the

thrill that so intensified the orgasm.

He looked down at her writhing obscenely in the chair. "Too bad I don't

have someone here to bite and suck on your breasts, Nichole."

In answer, Nichole let her head thrash from side to side and a low moan

of frustration trembled from her lips as she increased the tempo of her

hips pumping up against the vibrator.

Web smiled down at her, taking his hands away. He had set her up. He

had suggested a pleasure, and she had groaned like a Pavlovian dog at

the idea. With no more than a suggestion on his part, he would watch

her debase herself further.

"Of course," he said, his voice light and cool. "You could lick and

suck them."

Nichole broke her mounting rhythm as she heard his words and wasn't

sure she understood. "W ... what?"

"I said you could, in your present position, excite yourself by licking

and sucking them yourself. They're right in front of your mouth." He

paused to walk around the chair. "You could lick them and you could

suck them and I," he announced clearly, "could watch you do it."

Web moved around the chair for a better view, his mouth half-open in

eager anticipation. Even as he watched, Nichole pulled the vibrator out

of her cunt and held it hard on her clitoris, her eyes were closed and

her face contorted by the hot passion that she was feeling. Web watched

her hips and tautly rippling belly roll and undulate while her moistly

glistening cunt-lips twitched and gaped as the vibrator quivered and

thrust against her clitoris. With her free hand, she cupped one snowy

breast and tilted it toward her mouth, the nipple caught between her

fingers. Her tongue snaked out, red and wet, and the soft, velvet-

smooth tip rimmed around the erect little nipple. Then, as Web watched,

she opened her mouth wide, taking the whole nipple in. Her wetly

ovalled lips closed over the berry-like nipple, and her cheeks hollowed

as she sucked with a sex-crazed fervency.

Web felt himself being aroused as he watched. Nichole was doing exactly

as he asked, and her obscene self-excitement was having its effect. She

hooked her legs even tighter over the arms of the chair, jutting her

hips and naked groin outward and upward even more, spreading the lips

of her wetly trembling cunt as she ran the vibrating plastic cock up

and down and in and out of her with a hypnotic rhythm.

With a groan, the young girl let her heavy breast fall from her mouth.

She was gasping for air, panting with lewd passion, and her ripely

quivering breast was wet and glistening with her saliva. She opened her

fevered eyes a slit and her free hand groped for her other breast. It

trembled under her grasp as she cupped her fingers on it and pulled it

toward her mouth, her fingers depressed in the softly yielding flesh so

that the nipple stood out all the more. Her tongue lashed out at the

nipple, and Web watched it grow even more taut as she rimmed the nipple

then let the flat wet tongue engulf it. With mouth wide open, she put

the pinkly puckered little nipple in her mouth and, closing her eyes,

looked ecstatically happy. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, white her

hips roiled slowly and lewdly causing her buttocks to lift clear of the

leather seat. Her twin asscheeks twitched and contracted so that Web

could see her tightly puckered anus and the shining moistness from her

cunt trickling down the deep crevice.

Web went behind his desk to the small console board, dimmed the lights,

and punched a button. Still pictures suddenly appeared on the movie

screen. They were shots of Nichole. She was wearing black boots that

came to her knees, a flimsy black G-string, and a tight half-bra that

only served to hold her big, fully rounded breasts erect; her nipples

stuck out, free, taut, enticing. The G-string barely covered her

sparse, pubic hair and completely exposed her nakedly white buttocks.

The still pictures were in color and changed, with a "click-click"

automatically.

Nichole opened her eyes and looked up at the screen to see a montage of

herself in various suggestive and obscene poses: a close-up of her with

a huge glistening cock wedged between her tightly compressed breasts.

Then she was on her knees in another picture with her legs spread wide

apart showing a man crouched before her; his face was buried in her

cuntal crevice. Another naked man knelt behind her and pressed his

whitely massive cock against her young buttocks; he had reached around

and cupped her breasts while she turned her head and had her little red

tongue in his mouth. The pictures came one after another, quickly,

seemingly endless with Nichole lewdly kneeling over a naked man, with

Nichole sucking a cum-covered penis while being fucked dog fashion,

with Nichole obscene and obedient, doing whatever Web wanted.

"Stop!"

The shamelessly aroused girl collapsed in the chair, her face twisted

by the near orgasm that was writhing, smoky and aching, through every

nerve in her young body. She lay, panting, her eyes closed.

After a moment she took a deep shuddering breath and opened her eyes to

see the pictures were off the screen. Web was leaning against the desk

again, his arms folded over his chest. He was tall and gray, in his

middle forties and habitually wore all gray, like a trademark. Gray

suit, shirt, tie. Even, sometimes, gray patent leather shoes. He was

looking at her with a faint, ironic, grin on his thin lips. Nichole

simply stared at him as she sprawled obscenely, her beautiful wetly

firm breasts heaving, the vibrating mechanical penis buzzing forgotten

in her hand.

"You know, Nichole, I'm getting bored with you."

The words were spoken so quietly. almost casually, yet they struck

terror in her heart. She looked at him showing her fear. What would he

do with her? What would she do if he threw her out? Where would she go?

Tears, real tears, welled like glistening slivers in her eyes. "Why?"

she asked, shaking her head. "I try. I try to please you."

Web became preoccupied with a mote or speck on the cuff of his

expensive coat; he carefully picked it off with thumb and forefinger

and let it drop into an ashtray on the desk. "I know. I know. You'll do

anything I ask, won't you?"

"Anything," Nichole said the word carefully, feeling the lewd thrill

that such an admittance gave her. She would, literally, do anything he

wanted.

"That's the trouble," he went on, going behind the desk and sitting

down, joining the tips of his fingers together in front of him like a

cathedral. "That's the trouble. I know you'll do anything l want.

There's no challenge left and I'm bored." His forehead became wrinkled.

"I'm bored, Nichole."

Still slumped obscenely in her chair, the young girl shook her head and

bit her lip. "But ... l try!" was all she could think of saying.

Tapping his fingers, Wed nodded, looking off. Nichole dreaded the next

few minutes, dreaded hearing the words. She knew there had been other

girls. Beautiful girls! She had seen then in movies that Web would run

for her and his guests; beautiful girls who performed obscenities for

Web just like she did. These girls she saw were no longer around, and

Web would never say what had happened to them.

He had Nichole addicted in a subtle way. She was used to and keyed to a

life of orgies and money. She was hooked on jetting to England for a

week, then a ski weekend at Squaw Valley, then catching a new show

opening on Broadway. She now needed the excitement of being near famous

people and speaking with them. Once, she had met a famous comedian who

liked her so much they had sex together. She was used to and, in a

sense, needed the clothes and champagne that Web bought. He was more

than generous, he was lavish in his style of living. So long as she had

that, so long as she felt she was part of his entourage, she felt her

life had some meaning. And excitement! "Excitement" meant places,

seeing people, being conscious that she was at the hub of things, that

she was where the action was, that she was envied and photographed.

"Excitement" was something she had now come to need. Web Hardman being

bored with her meant banishment. She would eventually have to get a job

somewhere and read in the paper about the "Jet Set" and their

adventures. No, Nichole didn't want the terrible gray obscurity that

would come if Web cast her off like an old unwanted item of clothing.

Web, with the timing of a master-actor, cleared his throat and said,

"Of course, there is something."

"What?"

"He concealed his smile. "It might just work."

Nichole slid out of the leather chair, kneeling on the floor, her dress

sliding up over her nakedly exposed young loins. "What, Web? I'll do

it! You know that! I'll do anything you want me to do!"

Web cocked his head to one side. "Would you betray a friend for me?"

"What?" Nichole looked distressed.

"Would you betray a friend? Would you bring me a new girl?"

"Yes!" Nichole leaped at the idea.

Web held up a finger. "It can't be just anyone. It must be a good

friend and she must be attractive. I don't want you hiring any

prostitute."

"I won't, I won't."

"This little exercise is as much for you as it is for me. Think of it.

A complete betrayal. I want you to seduce a friend until she's just as

depraved as you are now." He got to his feet and pointed to the chair

behind her with one long thin finger. "In a matter of weeks or days, I

want a friend of yours in that chair using that vibrator the way you

just did."

Nichole jumped. The plastic vibrator was buzzing still in her hand. She

shut it off. "Yes! I'll do it!"

"And it will excite you, won't it?"

"Yes! Oh, yes!"

"You'll enjoy it, won't you?"

"Yes!"

"Very well. Who will it be?"

"Huh? What? Who?"

Web strode around the desk and looked down at her as she subserviently

knelt in front of him. She was afraid of his tall figure towering over

her. Her mind raced for a name. It couldn't be anyone. It had to be

someone special or he wouldn't be pleased at all and, above all, she

had to please him. Her hand brushed across her forehead. Who? Who? Her

face suddenly lighted up. "I know," she cried.

"Who?"

"Kim. Kim Stewart. She lives in Carmel." Web nodded. Kim Stewart. Fine.

Kim Stewart is it."

Chapter 2

Carmel. The name conjures up a particular image. It is, quite simply, a

tourist town on the coast of central California. It is that, and much

more. Carmel: playground for the rich and the rich-retired. A quaint

little town, once a village, now grown, yet still having many

attributes of a village with no sidewalks, trees growing in the middle

of a street, no street addresses or street lights. There are still many

board-and-bat cottages built back in the days when it was truly a

village and an artist's colony.

Carmel happens to be set down on a peninsula, at the mouth of a fertile

valley, at a piece of coastline that is unique in the world and

breathtakingly dramatic. A melding of sky, sea, mountains, and river-

mouth delta land. Carmel is like a jewel nestled in a belly-dancer's

navel. The Carmel River empties into the sea, and the deep royal blue

of the Pacific crashes wedding-cake white waves on hoary rocks that

stand off shore like prehistoric reminders of another time. The St.

Lucia mountain range seems to rush---to plunge down into the Pacific as

the dramatic end to the land, to America. Carmel is part of the

peninsula that juts out into the Pacific and holds two other towns, or

communities: Pacific Grove and Pebble Beach.

Pacific Grove is a quiet area of families and retired couples of modest

means. It is a religious town and it is one of the few islands of

abstinence, a dry town and proud of the fact. Consequently, Pacific

Grovians have to drive outside of the city limits to package stores and

is literally ringed with liquor stores. At night, the people drink at

home, quietly, behind drawn shades.

Most of the people who live in Carmel and Pebble Beach regard Pacific

Grove as a quiet place and seldom go there.

At the entrance to the peninsula sits Monterey with its harbor and

fishing fleets and Cannery Row of John Steinbeck fame. Cannery Row is

nothing more than a tourist place now with only one cannery operating

and the rest of the canneries and warehouses housing craft shops and

clothing stores.

Hippies, with a record store, a health food shop and a leather craft

shop, have made a foothold on one end of Cannery Row.

Hippies are seen in Monterey and Pacific Grove and Carmel. They are a

problem because Carmel lies between San Francisco and Big Sur. It is an

attractive stop-over point for hitch-hikers and a problem to the city

fathers.

There are no hippies in Pebble Beach. It is more a community than a

town. Here, in breath-taking loveliness, behind walls and gates that

are guarded, live the very rich. Here is the famous Del Monte Lodge

where only the wealthy and famous can afford to stay. Here is the

world-famous seaside links of Pebble Beach, scene of the glamorous Bing

Crosby Clambake once a year. Here are movie stars and society matrons,

all with an elegance and fresh clean good looks that go with the

peninsula. Here, on any day, one is apt to see a blonde with that

scrubbed, spanking-clean, mint-mouthed smile and dazzling white

turtleneck sweater and slacks striding through the Beach Club or to

Club Nineteen or seen walking down the fairway, following some golfers.

Here, at Pebble Beach, behind guarded gates, the beautiful, talented,

and rich people gather to play and party, and some of them stay to

live.

Pebble Beach has its own security force which guards the gates,

charging admission to tourists who look respectable and patrolling the

roads that cut through the forests and parallel golf courses. They

patrol past the gates with gravel roads that twist and lead up to grand

homes. Most of the elegant houses are hidden from sight by shrubbery

and fences, for residents of Pebble Beach pay well for beauty and

privacy.

There are famous admirals, generals, movie stars, and business men

living there. By and large, far and away, you couldn't find a group

with more character. There were a few; those that had inherited their

money and couldn't handle it. There were those that came from old

money, had a good family name yet suffered the inevitable consequences

of too much in-breeding that bordered on the incestuous. Such a person

was Web Hardman. His home at Pebble Beach was one of the best. Hidden

from the road, it commanded a sweeping view of the Pacific, had a

private beach and was ringed on the land side by a high cyclone fence

that spawned barbed wire at the top. The gate was opened

electronically, but only after a visitor had obeyed an amplified voice

command and stepped up to a pillar where a television camera scanned

them.

Such precautions were not out of the ordinary in Pebble Beach, for it

was expected that people valued their privacy and the security patrol

was there to reinforce it.

Web Hardman seldom went out and played a very respectable and passive

part in the peninsula's social life. No one, outside of a trusted few,

ever suspected what went on in his house. Lights late at night, parties

and music, were far from uncommon at Pebble Beach, and the security

patrol's principle problem at night was seeing that tipsy drivers got

safely home. Whenever Web's name was mentioned in the Peninsula's

paper, The Monterey Herald, he was described as, "One of the coast's

most eligible bachelors." Web did his best to keep his name and picture

out of the paper.

Carmel is a tourist and retirement center. It also has a population of

young people, many of whom work in its stores and shops. They are

usually young, intelligent, ambitious, and attractive. They are the

type of people concerned with where they live, concerned about

beautiful surroundings. They are usually ambitious people, eager to get

ahead, drawing some sort of identity from waiting on or associating

with the rich.

Unlike Pacific Grove, Carmel is far from dry and it harbors some of the

best bars on the peninsula. The Red Lion, a facsimile of an English

pub; Su Vecimo with its Mexican motif; La Playa with its casual

elegance and thick adobe walls; El Matador with its austere, regal,

bullfight atmosphere. On any weekend, the mentioned bars---and more---

swing late, crowded with attractive couples. One such couple sat in a

comer of El Matador, drinking Irish coffees and gazing soulfully into

each other's eyes. They had that sad, tender, troubled look that

soulful lovers sometimes wear. The man, rugged, tall, and good looking,

was obviously containing his anger and disappointment. He will be

leaving the next day for the jungles and rain forests of South America

where he will engineer a camp and build a bridge. His wife looked at

him bravely, holding back her tears. She must, for they both know that

others in the bar are looking at them, the males especially. Men always

look at her. She had a wild mane of naturally red hair it frames her

face in an untamed flame-licking way. Her skin was that creamy white

that so often goes with red hair and her eyes are a vivid blue and set

wide apart. Her mouth is large, almost but not quite too large and her

wetly glistening lips are full-formed. Her profile was pure and clean

and made one think of the poets in Ireland and the misty isles and a

natural kind of majesty and royalty. If her face and hair weren't

enough, there was her body. God must have been in a wild and ecstatic

mood when he created her. Most women would give a fortune to have her

body. Tall, with sensually flaring hips and long elegant thighs, she

possessed a slim waist that rose to two perfectly round breasts that

bulged excitingly beneath the soft sweater she was wearing. She leaned

forward and put her elbows on the table as she looked wistfully at her

husband, and every man could see that she wasn't wearing a brassiere by

the molten, rubbery way her breasts moved. Those breasts, those two

firmly jutting mounds of flesh with their nipples straining and

pointing through the wool, were real! They were almost---not quite---

too big for her slim build.

She had two black moles---beauty marks---on her face: one on her cheek

and one on the side of her chin. She wore only a little makeup and she

didn't even need that. Her eyelashes were unusually long, and her

generously fun lips seemed always to be wet, to have a sheen to them.

Her smoky, startlingly blue eyes had a hot provocative look to them.

That look was always getting her in trouble because men misread her

intentions.

This attractive redhead, this girl who reminded men of Raquel Welch,

was Kim Stewart! She sat staring at her husband, Hank Stewart,

engineer, husband, a scion to a Pebble Beach fortune. He was cut off

from that because he eloped with Kim. Kim had worked as a waitress in a

local restaurant, The Butcher Shop, when she had met Hank. He had swept

her off her feet, rushing her beyond her belief. Within two weeks of

meeting, they were married and Kim was walking about a quarter of an

inch off the ground when their world came crashing down.

First it had been his family. They didn't approve. They were proud and

powerful people. They were lofty and the family tree went back to New

England and the Mayflower. She was coldly ignored, and Hank was told in

formal and frosty terms that he was being cut off from any funds. This,

in itself, wasn't too much of a blow. Hank had money of his own and a

profession: engineering. He opened a small office in Monterey, and they

rented a one-bedroom cottage in Carmel near the beach. They were happy

with chilly night walks on the beach and hurrying home to a bright fire

and hot toddies. They would sit by the fire, listening to the waves

crashing on the beach and feeling the warm glow of the fire. Hank

reassured Kim that in time, his parents would come around. "They'll see

what kind of a person you really are."

Although she didn't say so, Kim was determined to show them by example

what kind of a person she was. They would see that they were wrong,

that she was an asset to their family even if her parents were poor and

she had to work for a living. They would see Hank happy, and they would

realize they were wrong. Kim vowed to lead a life that would be beyond

reproach.

And that vow led to and helped sharpen their real problem. Despite her

looks, Kim was not sensual. In fact, she was exactly the opposite. She

felt her body was too well-endowed, that it was too shapely and

provocative and as a result, she went to great lengths to hide it. And,

the more she tried to hide it the more she called attention to it. Even

her walk got her into trouble because it was a liquid thing that made

the bottoms of her buttocks twitch in a way that made men grit their

teeth. Kim was aware of her walk and when she tried to slow it down,

repress it, keep it subdued, she only succeeded in making it slow and

slinky. It was the same walk used by a stripper who stalks across the

stage and removes the last tantalizing shred of clothing and stands

magnificently naked except for a trivial G-string, sheer black

stockings, and high heels. Kim walked with that breath-taking

expectation of something lewd happening.

Hank compounded the problem. Although from a proper WASP (White, Anglo

Saxon, Protestant) family, he was more Latin in bed than anything. In

fact, when he had too much to drink, he was positively brutal and lewd

in bed.

Kim wasn't sensual or didn't think she was. She had been raised in a

strictly religious home and sex was always something dirty and sinful

to her. On top of her natural reticence, there was her determination to

show his family that she was worthy. She kept imagining the day when

they would finally invite Hank and her to their house. When that day

came, Kim was going to be able to look Hank's mother in the eye, and

Mrs. Stewart was going to see that Kim was a decent girl, not some

cheap slot. His mother was going to see it in her face because Kim was

determined to live that way.

She knew Hank was frustrated, but she felt he would understand. She

felt that deep down he didn't want her to behave in a lewd way. Not

really! If she behaved in that way he would eventually lose respect for

her. No, Kim was firm and stuck to her guns.

The situation worsened with the coming of the South American job. It

was a big job and an important one and Hank felt he was lucky to have

landed it. The rain forests of the upper Amazon basin was no place for

a bride. It was a wilderness, and none of the men were taking their

wives. Besides, there would be no time for women, only time for carving

a camp out of the jungle and building a bridge.

At first, Hank wasn't going to take the job. Then he began to feel that

time apart might help their marriage. He had never dreamed that his

wife would be such a cold fish in bed. Everything about her led one to

believe the opposite. Kim would let him have sex with her while she lay

underneath him, stiff and unresponsive eager to have it over.

Now, tonight, while Nichole was in the Pebble Beach home of Web Hardman

and uttering Kim Stewart's name, she was having a farewell drink with

Hank. He would be leaving early in the morning and she wouldn't see him

again for six months. Half a year! Hank was being polite and grim and,

to Kim's concern, he was drinking too much.

So far, their parting had been tender. They left the Matador late,

saying good bye to domino playing friends at the bar. Hank shook hands

with the bartender and told him to keep an eye on Kim. He was polite

and careful, the way he always got when drunk. Kim knew---and dreaded--

-what the next step would be.

Hank drove home along Scenic Avenue, above the beach of white sand that

seemed almost to glow in the moonlight. Long white breakers came out of

the night and broke on the shore. Far out at sea, mysterious off-shore

lights winked and moved steadily along. Hank didn't have much to say on

the drive home. Nor did he say anything when they went to the bedroom

and Kim fled into the bathroom, closing the door and changing into her

negligee. Hank slumped down on the bottom of the bed, staring at the

floor, his lower lips thrust petulantly out. She, Kim, carried the

modesty thing just a little too far to suit him. She wouldn't wear a

brassiere because she thought the undergarment made her breasts stick

out too much. As a result, her taut little nipples poked against her

sweaters and blouses and drove men nuts.

He clenched his fists as he thought of her getting up in the Matador

and slinking to the ladies room with every stud in the place drooling

and looking at him with that "You-sure-are-getting-yours" kind of

envious look. And watching her come back to the table with that wild

hair and cool look and her hips twitching and her breasts cargo-

shifting, rubbing together, under the sweater. It's a wonder she wasn't

raped.

A drunken leer came across his face, and he gunned at the closed

bathroom door. Rape! She was carrying it just a bit far, changing in

there. After all, it wasn't against the law for a husband and wife to

be naked together. He snorted, realizing how long it had been and

knowing that she was shortly to come through the bathroom door clad in

an ultra-respectable nightie---probably something made out of flannel

and real itsy-poo.

He was right. Seeing things distorted through a prism of too much

Scotch, he lurched to his feet as she came into the room. To him it

seemed she was playing the little girl with an ugly nightie up to her

Adam's apple, wearing a gown with ribbons and bows on it and only her

bare toes peeking out from underneath.

Essentially, he was right. The negligee was demure and she did have a

polite smile on her face, hoping he would respond in kind. She yawned

in front of him as he stood swaying before her, breathing heavily

through his nose. "We'd better get to bed. We've got to be up early, so

you can catch that plane," she said, trying to calm him.

"Nuts. Bull! The hell with the plane," he growled as he lurched toward

her. His big hands seized her by the shoulders.

"Hank! You're hurting me!"

"So what? Take it off, baby!"

"Hank, stop this instant!"

Her tone only served to annoy him. He was too far gone in alcohol and

frustration to bother to listen. He saw her walking, slinky and sexy, a

real prick-tease, across the floor of the Matador with her ripely

rounded buttocks twitching and her big beautiful breasts shifting,

quivering and wiggling under her sweater. He saw all the bar-rail studs

looking at her with one thing on their minds. Mentally they had all

fucked her ... and what was there for him---her husband? Now, this ...

this Shirley Temple nightie! He hooked his fingers in the collar of the

gown and pulled, tearing the negligee down the front to her slender,

ripely flaring hips. He caught glimpses of her voluptuously naked flesh

beneath; her protruding musk-melon breasts so round and full, so

quivering with softness and fleshy promise; her firm stomach that was

curved out of ivory in subtle undulations and the "V" of her lush pubic

mound. Everything---her stomach, her sleek young thighs that were as

smooth and warm as a baby's skin---everything seemed to swoop and rush

head-long to her loins where her plumply rounded mound of Venus was

licked with a tongue of softly curling flame from her sparse red pubic

hair!

The drunken engineer's breath came faster as he lurched after her. Kim

backed against the wall, her hands and arms trying to hide her breasts

that jellied in fright and her naked loins. "Hank, don't you dare!"

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her arm to one side with a brutal ease

and her firm young breasts leaped free and quivered m front of his face

and he half grunted, half-growled as be stared at her softly fleshed

globes. Consistent with her flame-tousled complexion, her nipples were

the palest of pink, delicate and finely formed.

It was with an animal savagery that he stepped forward and locked one

burly arm around the terrified young wife's slender waist and squeezed,

forcing her to bend over backward. Kim tried to protest, but his other

hand was clamped over her mouth with a sudden force ... and her head

was forced back to where it crashed against the wall, causing her to

see stars. She was pinned between his hard body and the wall, bent over

backward from the waist while her lovely harvest moon breasts were

nakedly free and tilting up to where his hot, moistly hungry mouth

ravished them. He was close to going berserk as he greedily licked the

distended little nipples. Clamping his voracious mouth over them he

sucked hard and then bit down on them, feeling their berry-like buds

respond, grow taut and buffeted as he rolled them around with his

tongue and teeth.

The red-headed wife struggled with all her might, but her frantic

squirming seemed only to excite the drunken engineer to more brutality

and worsen her position. His powerful hips were being savagely ground

into hers, and she could feel the growing hardness of his long thick

cock under his pants. Her head was forced back and the negligee had

slipped down, exposing her smoothly rounded feminine shoulders and

breasts and at the same time, effectively pinning her arms at her

sides. Kim's breasts were completely naked now and tilted toward the

ceiling; they moistly glistened in the bedroom lamplight ... wettened

with hot saliva as his hungrily sucking mouth darted from one nipple to

the other.

Finally the struggling young girl was able to turn her head to one

side, freeing her mouth. "Hank, stop, it's me, Kim!" She knew he was

drunk and didn't know what he was doing; she had to bring him to his

senses! "It's me, Kim!"

"KIM!" He roared out her name and let go of her, stepping back and

standing in a savage semi-crouch, looking at her and letting out a wild

laugh, a laugh utterly devoid of humor and full of violence and ugly

contempt.

Kim stood against the wall completely naked to her waist, her twin

fleshy moons heaving for breath. She tried not to move ... not to

startle him. My God, he was beyond reason! His eyes were glassy and

wild, glazed over with lust and alcohol. She had to get through to him.

"Hank, wait a minute. Take it easy. It's me, Kim." She spoke softly, as

if to a child or a growling dog she was trying to reassure. "It's Kim.

Your wife. Remember? Take it easy. Wait a min---"

She never got a chance to finish her sentence, for she screamed,

involuntarily, as he brutally seized her by the wrist and, with a

strength she never dreamed he possessed, pulled her to him and then

snapped her out, across the room, hurtling toward the bed. He snapped

her with an incredible strength, tossed her as if she were a child on

the end of snap-the-whip; she literally flew through the air until her

knees hit the edge of the bed, and momentum flung her forward ---down

on her face and stomach to the mattress.

She bounced up from the sudden impact, but the aroused engineer was on

her from the rear, his thumb and fingers clamping themselves on the

back of her neck like steel bands. They hurt a lot, made her cry out

and be afraid to move, as he forced her back face down on the bed. His

other hand groped for the negligee and she felt and heard it rip as he

impatiently clawed at it until he had torn every last shred away. Now

she was pinned helplessly down on the bed, the covers rubbing against

her nipples that were extraordinarily sensitive from his ministrations.

His heavy breathing was a combination of things: alcohol, exertion, and

a growing, yammering, exulting passion. A horny wildness was coursing

through his blood and pounding on the iron-hard, heavily-flanged head

of his cock that throbbed so hard that it ached.

He looked down at his wife, at the hollow of her back and the way it

arched up to where her shoulder blades stuck out like incipient angel's

wings. He stared, almost drooling, at the creamy whiteness of her

flesh, at the fullness of it, especially the wonderfully extravagant

way her ripely full buttocks blossomed into twin mounds of succulent

white flesh that were now, before his eyes, squirming, and undulating

before his eyes.

Making an animal sound in his throat, he lifted her head from the bed,

causing her to arch her back even more. Two tiny dimples appeared in

the middle of her supplely-fleshed ass cheeks.

With his mouth twisted into a drunken shark-like smile, Hank watched as

Kim worked her hands and arms under her and pushed up slightly, taking

some of the pain off her tortured neck. She winced and tried to hold

her head erect as she gasped. "Hank, y ... you ... you are hurting ...

mmmmeee!"

It was a plea, a plea that ended in a squeal because he was hurting

her. His neck hold was pressing against nerves, and she had to have

some relief. She pushed against the bed with her hands and lifted her

torso a little more. In so doing, her breasts were tightly squeezed

between her arms, creating a deep warmly shadowed cleavage.

Hank was looking at the creamy twin cheeks of her buttocks and the

darkly Inviting crevice separating them. Watching them move and form

with Kim's struggles to relieve the neck-pressure, the rapaciously

aroused engineer gloated as he saw her flesh ripple and the buttocks go

firm and full, firm and full! Damn, it was wild to see! Damn! Hadn't he

always wanted to! Damn!

He was wildly drunk and driven by a real whorehouse abandon. He had

always wanted to go to a brothel, he had always wanted to buy the whole

fucking place out and get just drunk enough not to care ... especially

not caring because of the fore-knowledge that none of the prostitutes,

no one in the whorehouse would ever see him again. With all that in

mind, with all those things gong for him plus a pounding all-powerful

horniness; with all those things going for him, he could, just once,

let himself go and do as he damned pleased!

Over his wife's nakedly tormented body, he hooked his hands between her

tightly clenched legs. Holding his fingers stiff, he drove it between

her thighs while he held her pinned in place face down with his iron

grip on her neck.

"Hank, my God! Pleeeeaaaasssseee!"

Alcohol drifted like smoke over his brain, and his temples pounded with

the brutal lust he felt heatedly boding through his body and hammering

in his groin. It was a good whore he had here on the bed and the night

was his. Shit, they didn't even know his name in this cathouse. He

could do as he pleased. Someday, he would confess to Kim that he had

gone to a whorehouse this night, and that he had fucked a prostitute

with wild flame hair who looked just like her. Yes! That was it, this

bitch here looked just like his wife---his cold, frigid wife with about

as much sex drive as a capon chicken!

Somehow that thought was too much for Hank. Here was a common whore who

looked just like Kim and he could do all the things to her he never

dared do with his wife ... and, best of all, he could pretend this slut

was Kim! The thought was delightfully dirty to him and he gave a harsh

laugh. After all, he was paying her well, and he would never see her

again, and he was just drunk enough to do a couple of interesting

things he'd always wanted to try.

He let go of his wife and lurched backward, losing his balance and

staggering back like a punch drunk fighter as he ripped his shirt off,

heedless of the buttons popping on the floor like broken teeth.

Kim spun on the bed to face him, kneeling with arms crossed over her

nakedly full breasts, her long red hair hanging down like dark rich

tongues of flame licking at her shoulders and breasts. Her hair framed

her face in loose natural ringlets which gave her face the bawdy

careless look of a teasing whore. Her arms crossed over her breasts

only drew attention to their fleshy fullness as they swelled firmly to

become tantalizing warm orbs ballooning upward. "My God! Hank, do you

understand me? Kim! I'm Kim! Do you understand? Talk to me!"

She shrank back from him, really afraid now, her neck hurting while her

eyes darted about, looking for an escape. She must get through to him

or get away. He was berserk, wild, not the same man she married!

He tossed his shirt away, breathing loudly through his nose and feeling

his body covered with a hot sexual sweat. He grinned at his wife as he

staggered around taking his pants off. Good! He liked these whores a

little afraid; he liked to see one cowering in fright before him, her

thighs tightly clenched together, her sparse red pubic hair wedged

tight at the "V" of her groin, her breasts all bunched up like white

straining balloons as she tried to hide them. He laughed aloud as he

saw the halos of her nipples peeking like pale pink half-moons over the

edge of her protecting arms.

"Hank, you have to hear me! If you don't stop, I'm going to call for

help!"

He paused, blinking, his thumbs hooked in his shorts. What the hell was

this slut saying, what was she getting at? This was his party, he had

paid for it. Wasn't he leaving for South America in the morning? He

sure was, and no one, nobody, not one soul in this whorehouse would

ever see him again. He grinned, bleary-eyed and unfocused, at Kim

nakedly crouched on the bed in front of him. "Tonight's my night to

howl," he said, his words slurred.

"Hank, you don't know what you're saying."

"Sure do. 'Sall fixed with the madam. Don't you ... you worry."

"You've had too much to drink, now come to bed."

He saw Kim brush her hair back behind one creamy shoulder and saw her

ripely full breasts jiggle enticingly as she leaned back and pulled the

covers down, her long slender legs straightening out as she started to

lie down. She smiled tolerantly and sweetly, and she urged him to bed.

"Come, darling, you need some sleep."

She misunderstood his grin, thinking she had finally gotten through to

him and that he understood her. The young wife had no way of knowing

that all Hank saw was a wildly sensual looking chippie inviting him to

bed. He yanked his underwear down, having some difficulty pulling it

over his huge, throbbingly erect penis.

Kim suddenly was frightened as she looked at his massive hardness. She

had never before, in their short marriage life, gotten such a good look

at it. Always, before, she had seen it while he was changing clothes or

coming from the shower, and then it had always been limp and hanging.

She always insisted that all lights be out, that the room be in total

darkness before they made love. Those nights they had grappled and

groped in pitch black darkness, and she had been forced to feel his

heatedly pulsating shaft with her hand; she would feel it and recoil

from its size and heat and hardness. She would feel it between her legs

crudely pushing and hurting, into her tightly stretched little vagina

like a thick club, a coarse battering ram.

Now, her fingers flew to her mouth as she saw the full immensity of

maledom throbbing so menacingly in front of her in the lamplight. Thick

veins snaked along its tree-stump shaft; the lust-swollen head was

bulging and a deep red where it was blood-filled. The head was spread

like a cobra's head and shone in the light with its swelling thickness.

It hung away from his body and swung heavily toward her, as if it were

sensing her. His hairy, sperm-bloated balls hung low, and he stood in

front of her a frightening specimen of masculine sexuality with layered

slabs of muscles on his stomach like Roman armor, and his chest bulging

hard and flat, and the veins standing out in his biceps and oak-like

arms. He had told her about his working out at the Pacheco Club in

Monterey and she believed him. His muscles glistened now with sex-sweat

and booze. A shudder of admiration combined with fear went through her.

"Hank, NO!"

She had just time to yell before he was on her, tearing at her, seizing

her wrists as she pummeled her fists against the cords of muscles on

his chest. He seized her wrists and forced them wide apart, causing her

full fleshy breasts to spread and rise nakedly. The terrified young

wife turned her head away from the blasts of stale alcohol on his

breath as he easily pulled her to him. His strength was total and

terrible to Kim, for she knew she was as helpless as an infant in his

grasp.

She felt the hard, hotly throbbing tip of his cock against the silken

triangle at the pit of her belly and she pushed her buttocks out and

away, contracting from the fearful sexual thing. Hank yanked her torso

close and tightly clasped her around the shoulders, pinning her arms to

her side and crushing her naked, fearfully heaving breasts against his

iron-hard chest. He looked over one shoulder and saw the way she was

sticking her firmly fleshed buttocks out, the way the creamy white

cheeks pulled apart to reveal the depth of the crevice between them. He

thought he could even glimpse her tightly puckered little anus as she

struggled to pull away from him.

"Hank, I'll yell for help! I mean it!"

He seemed to relax as he looked over her shoulder and down her curving,

concave back that was arching again as she struggled to hold him up

and, at the same time, pull her loins away from his thick poker-like

penis that seemed hot enough to burn her flesh. She thought she could

still feel the seared place where it had touched her stomach. She

squirmed her buttocks back further, unaware she was exciting him all

the more. He looked at the smoothly rippling cheeks of her ass and

thought of baby fat. Like a young teenager with that firm, sensually

soft baby fat!

With a roar, the drunken engineer was over her, twisting her and

sending her sprawling nakedly backwards on the bed. He fell on top of

her with a crash that made little stars arc and explode in the room

before her eyes as she felt the breath knocked out of her and pain,

like a network of nerves, spread through her chest and stomach.

With a roar, he was on top of her and his brutal wet mouth cut off her

scream and locked on hers, crushing her pulpy full lips, hurting them,

bruising them, as he ground down and his hotly thick tongue exploded

into her mouth. She fought to catch her breath, thinking she would gag

or suffocate. She felt his full weight and the long hot hardness of his

cock pulsating in her fearfully cringing belly.

Tears were in her eyes, dimming the scene as he forced her long slender

legs apart, bruising, pinching the silky skin of her inner thighs. He

forced her legs wider still until muscle cords stood out like flesh-

colored cables along her inner thighs. With all her strength, she

pulled her mouth free from his and sobbed, "For God's sake, Hank, stop!

You're killing me!"

A stinging slap was his only answer. She never saw the blow, only felt

it and felt it sponge into her face, numbing her with pain. She gasped

for air and sobbed, thinking she would pass out ... almost hoping for

unconsciousness.

With a grunt, he shifted his weight and seized the stunned young wife's

wrists again, forcing them up and back over her head, causing her naked

breasts to stand out ripely jiggling before his face. His savagely

voracious mouth fed on them again, tearing at them. She felt his cock,

the head of it, like some mammoth wild thing at the entrance to her

tightly tensed vagina, and she shut her eyes and tightly contracted her

cuntal muscles in an effort to prevent penetration---prevent this

brutal drunken rape of her tender femaledom.

"AAAAaaaaggghhhaaaa!!!"

The thick mighty head plowed forward, easily spreading her pulpy,

softly wet vaginal lips. They parted under the sheer power of his

thrust. Hank lifted his torso and looked down between their nakedly

entwined bodies. His cock was poised, its sheath pulled back tight over

the head that was almost a deep maroon color from the blood that

throbbed in it. The lust-swollen head was almost covered by the

flushing, pretty pink pussy lips that had reluctantly parted to make

room for his invading cudgel. Laughing drunkenly, the engineer released

her wrist and raked his fingernails across her stomach, feeling her

softly defenseless flesh giving while she sobbed and tried to hit his

face with her free hand. "Hank, you've gone crazy. Stop!"

He seized her wrist again with an agile, almost indifferent speed and

forced it back over her head and raised his torso once more. Four

wavering pink lines were raising on her belly where he had scratched

her. The lines seemed to point like directional arrows toward the

proud, defenselessly trembling swollen lips of her little cunt lips

that were so sensuously curved and puckered, almost like a mouth. Her

entire vagina was a vivid pink color as he thrust his massive cock-head

against the lips and he saw them part, fold inward under the force of

his entry. He saw the distended pink nib of her little clitoris proudly

standing, revealed between her swelling vaginal lips, erect and

sensitive in its own little oiled valley.

Again, he gave a laugh that ended in a snort. He thrust again, and the

captive young wife cried out as his cock ran in like a thick tree stump

disappearing into her soft, hotly quivering cunt.

Kim felt her legs spread even more painfully apart and she gave out

another bird-like cry of distress as the total brutal thrust of his

hard dominating cock into her helplessly stretched pussy forced her

buttocks to roll under and her legs to fly up in the air. He began

pumping with his hips with an ox-like strength, brutally and lewdly

fucking in and out of her cunt, sawing away with his wetly glistening

penis so thick and veined.

Hank's fucking was brutal and wild and his hands were all over her as

he pinched and massaged her nakedly quivering breasts, leaving

scratches on her stomach and bruises, deep and purple, on her shoulders

and breasts. He was virtually raping her and she could do nothing to

stop him. Her mind was near hysteria, but she really didn't want to

scream and get outside help. She didn't want people to know her husband

was like this. Trying to reason with him was like trying to reason with

an ape in heat.

Each savage thrust was hurting her now, jolting her naked young body,

as he pounded his massively pulsating hardness home, its head banging

up against her cervix, causing her to wince with each stroke. He was

mauling her body painfully, digging his finger nails into her softly

fleshed buttocks and tearing her legs further apart. He was fucking her

so hard that the force of his thrust was shoving her across the bed and

her head was thumping against the headboard.

Kim never stopped struggling ... or pleading, but her voiced protests

were as futile as her squirming. Abruptly, as one of her hands flailed

out, she touched something cold and metallic. It was a flashlight. It

was no strange thing to have next to the bed in Carmel. During the

winter, there was much rain and wind and trees would topple, bringing

down power lines, and homes would be without light or electricity for

hours on end. This was an inconvenience Carmelites gladly suffered,

preferring to have their trees, their forest, instead of safe power

lines.

Her hand closed around the heavy flashlight and she gripped it,

wondering if she dare hit her husband---this drunken rapist atop her

tortured body.

Hank was fucking her as hard as he could now with his arms straight

down at his sides and his fingers digging into the soft white flesh of

her buttocks. Savagely, obscenely, his fingers probed and slid into the

sweat-slickened crevice between her ass cheeks. He was hurting her as

he felt for her anus. His outstretched middle finger stabbed at the

rubbery, tightly puckered anal ring, his fingernail cutting in deep,

sending a sharp stinging pain searing through her nerve system. Kim's

face contorted and she sobbed again. It was decided for her: she raised

the heavy flashlight, gripped it tightly in her hand and held it above

her head. Then, closing her eyes, she swung with all her might. She

heard a "thunk," a sound like someone thumping a ripe watermelon. The

flashlight bounced off Hank's head and was torn from her hand by the

force of the blow. She heard the glass lens shatter as the flashlight

fell on the bed and onto the floor.

Hank paused for a split-second, seeming not to move a muscle or take a

breath. It was as if he had frozen and was expectantly listening for

some alien sound. Then, he gave a mottled, choking cry, pulled his

hands free, and feebly tried to hold his head. He pulled back from her,

weaving, his eyes squeezed shut, his face and mouth twisted in a

drunken grimace. Both his hands were on the top of his head as if he

were trying to hold his skull on, as though he were trying to stop it

from blowing up. "Goddamn it," he said thickly. He pulled away, and his

still massively erect cock came out of her cunt with an obscenely wet

plopping sound.

The engineer slowly slumped backwards onto the bed, breathing heavily,

and groaned in wonderment and surprise. The combination of alcohol and

the stunning blow to the head made him go limp as a rag ... and he

passed out---unconscious beside her.

Kim lay naked, her blue eyes watching her husband. Then, feeling

something she couldn't quite fathom, she looked down between her

fingernail-streaked breasts to her long flat belly ... and at the

scratches and bruises there ... and at her prominent mound of Venus and

the way her softly curling red pubic hair was wet and matted. Her legs

were splayed ivory white in the lamplight, delicately carved yet strong

and firm. Already she could see bruises that were a deep purple plum

color and more scratches. Gingerly, she shifted her weight and tilted

her groin to one side, feeling the cheek of one buttock. It was sore

and stung from the gouges left behind from his fingernails.

Instinct told her that Hank wasn't going to awaken. In fact, she was

going to have trouble getting his huge naked bulk under the covers. She

lay on her back, relaxed, catching her breath, her ripely firm young

breasts heaving up and down. The base of her neck was still pressed

painfully against the headboard, wedged there by Hank's brutal thrusts,

and she lay much in the same pose as Nichole had a few miles away in

Pebble Beach a little earlier in the evening. Kim lay with her

magnificently fleshed breasts in front of her face, her pert chin

forced into her chest. Idly, she passed her hands over them, feeling

their liquid weight and warmness. They were bigger, fuller, better

formed than Nichole's. Kim's finger tips skimmed lightly over them,

testing them tenderly for sore spots and bruises. Her lacquered

fingernails gently touched her nipples; they sprang to life as she

watched them, pale pink and hardening, tensing, pointing provocatively.

In a sudden odd mood, she looked down at her nakedly sleeping husband,

seeing him framed between her breasts that were almost---not quite---

too large for her frame ... breasts that she felt she should be proud

of, yet wasn't! Almost unaware of what she was doing, the voluptuous

young wife dug the fingernail in the softly yielding flesh of her

nipple. Than, she took the buffeted nipple between her thumb and

forefinger and pinched it with her fingernails, deliberately hurting

herself and sending an unexpectedly erotic tremor of excitement through

her naked body.

She stopped guiltily, her hand covering her mouth against a little cry

of amazement. Kim had just stumbled on a self-discovery, and it was far

from pleasant. She thought: Actually, in a funny way, a wrong way, a

dirty way, I really enjoyed being handled so roughly. If only I hadn't

been so afraid ...

She shook her head, refusing to finish the thought. Quickly, then, she

got up and hurried to the closet, where she got a robe, then she fled

to the bathroom while Hank snored.

Chapter 3

Carmel has one of the loveliest beaches in the world. Its sand manages

to stay a virgin white and the beach front runs for two curving miles

from the Pebble Beach golf course to what residents call "The Frank

Lloyd Wright house" which is an imposing home built on the rocks, right

above the ocean, by that famous architect.

The beach, in all its vastness, seems to absorb people as a sponge does

water. It would take a large assembly to seem crowded. It looks crowded

really only twice a year: on the Fourth of July, and during the Great

Sandcastle Building Contest. On other days, people sunbathe, children

play, surfers surf, brave ones swim, people ride horseback, and dogs

race---tongue lolling, barking, after the seagulls. An occasional Sea

Lion swims along just beyond the surf, old men fish, joggers jog and

others simply stroll. All this happens and the beach doesn't seem

crowded. Each person has a feeling of privacy.

People use the beach from morning until night when flickering orange

bonfires warm groups of picnickers. At sundown, people are invariably

seen walking or parked along Scenic Drive or simply sitting on benches

along the road or seen standing, alone and quiet. Sunset in Carmel is a

quiet time and people talk in hushed voices and lovers stroll hand in

hand. Sunsets in Carmel are always dramatic and always different and

always something seen on a postcard and cannot believe because they're

too pretty, too colorful and too dramatic.

It certainly isn't thought unusual to see people with binoculars on the

beach or sitting in parked cars along Scenic Drive. There are all sorts

of wildlife to observe: gulls, terns, pelicans, seals, sea lions, sea

otters, and, in season, the California Gray Whale in migratory herds.

At times, the Killer Whales are seen, their dorsal fins cleaving the

water of the bay in search of prey.

There was nothing unusual in the Mercedes-Benz that parked along Scenic

day after day. Nor was there anything odd in the occupants---a man and

a woman---watching the beach through powerful binoculars. They were

attractive and well dressed and looked as if they belonged to the

Carmel scene. The girl was young and extremely attractive with a dress

that was just a little too colorful and low cut. Her cleavage showed,

disappearing down into a soft shimmering shadow of warm flesh. Her

black hair was long and swept across her forehead, and her smile was a

dazzling white. Her nose was provocatively tilted on the end. The man,

the driver, was older and his face was thin and spartan, aristocratic,

and his black hair was sprinkled and streaked with gray. He wore gray.

He was dressed in gray slacks, gray shirt, and gray cashmere sweater.

They were watching a solitary stroller who walked by herself down by

the water's edge. They had been watching her for days. She walked the

beach twice a day: in the early morning and at sunset. She walked to

and from the beach to her house, a cottage, that was three short, tree-

lined blocks to the ocean.

She drove into town once a day, going to the post office to mail

letters and pick mail up. She shopped in the mouth of the Carmel Valley

at the Safeway and Long's discount drug store. She only shopped once a

week. She stayed home every night, watching television then retiring

early. Only once since they had been watching her, had she gone out in

the evening, going to an early movie alone.

The occupants of the car were Web Hardman and Nichole Parker. The

person they were watching was Kim. Web focused his binoculars on her as

she walked the beach, and he slowly brought her voluptuous young figure

into a shimmering detail. He inspected details of her sensual, finely

shaped body with a scientist's detachment and passion for detail. She

wore little makeup. Her nose was so perfect, so delicate, that he was

sure it had been bobbed. Yet, as he inspected it through the glasses,

he knew it wasn't. There was a purple bruise mark on her neck that was

almost concealed by a silk scarf; the bruise interested him. Her

attitude interested him. Generally, her face was preoccupied, serious,

and, at times, little sad. She was very definitely alone. A glint and

flash of light on the fingers of her left hand told him she was

married.

Her body was a pleasure for him to watch as she walked along in the

loose sand. She always wore tight slacks that allowed him to see and

imagine her long, firmly shaped thighs and tapered legs, her sensually

petulant buttocks that twitched and ground with every step. And her

breasts---always under sweaters or heavy sweat shirts that were too big

for her (undoubtedly her husband's)---shook free, bouncing with a

sprightly rhythm when she sometimes ran to avoid the last flat surge of

a wave. Her body was strong, and the wind blew her flame red hair wild

and ruffled around her face, giving her regal queen-like features a

certain Irish bawdiness in appearance.

Web slowly lowered the glasses and stared off, seeing Kim nothing more

than a distant silhouette on the beach. He didn't want to show too much

pleasure in Nichole's choice. It was a policy with him never to flatter

her too much. Always let her be a little hungry. Yet, he was pleased

with her choice. He was more than pleased! For the first time in a long

while, he was sexually excited.. He was aroused. Kim Stewart was a

magnificent specimen and provided an interesting challenge. He looked

at Nichole, smiling slightly. Since he had forced her to admit she

would betray a friend, would betray them sexually, and then help him in

the seduction, even Nichole had taken on a new sexual interest. It was

mild, but an arousement nonetheless. He had become even more interested

after he heard the name, Kim Stewart. He had her investigated by his

bodyguard who was trained and very adept about such things. Be came

back with a report on her. Married, living in a cottage in Carmel, her

husband was an engineer and was away for six months in South America.

Kim Stewart was alone, seldom went out other than for routines of

living, and didn't see anyone. Her husband's parents, the Stewarts,

lived in Pebble Beach. Apparently Kim had no communication or visits

with them. A snapshot, taken by the bodyguard, showing Kim walking near

the post office in tight white slacks, sneakers, and a loose red wool

sweater, was enough to interest him more.

He watched her for days, his careful intelligence not missing a detail.

Finally, he turned to Nichole. "I think she'll do."

Nichole broke into a dazzling smile of relief. She laughed and relaxed,

leaning back, jutting out her young breasts provocatively and swinging

them back and forth. Since he knew her for what she was, Nichole could

afford a lewd grin, a look of utter depravity, to come over her face.

She licked her lips, looking at Kim through the glasses once more. It

was going to be fun to trick the trusting young wife, to lead her into

depravity, to orgies, to wild moments when she would go a little insane

and behave in a lewd and lascivious way. It would be wildly interesting

and sexually exciting to see Kim come under the influence of Web, to

see him break her to his will, to see her perform the way she did, to

see her eager for a sexual perversion. If Kim could be led to act that

way, it would make her feel better. Besides, it would please Web.

"I think she's definitely unhappy. Over what, I'm not so sure," the

gray dressed man said to Nichole. "At first, I thought it was because

her husband had left her. I thought she missed him."

"That's possible. She hasn't been married very long."

Web wagged a finger. "There's something more. I'm only guessing, but

she had a bruise mark on her neck, a bruise that she was at pains to

conceal. I saw it through the glasses when the wind blew it. Why would

you conceal a bruise."

Nichole again gave a lewd grin, "When I was afraid they'd be too

revealing."

"Exactly. Her husband goes away and she's concealing a bruise. Perhaps

several bruises. And she's sad. Why? Because she misses her husband? Or

does she miss being bruised?"

Nichole arched a cool eyebrow. "If she does, she'll be easy to bring

around."

"No," Web said, shaking his head, "if she just missed the bruises, that

would tell us a lot about her right away." His face bent into a

superior smile. "What would you do if your husband was far away for six

months, and you liked having him bruise you, you liked being bruised,

pushed around?"

Nichole was unashamed, brazen. "I'd go out and find me someone."

"Exactly. A woman who enjoys being manhandled, who likes it rough, is a

fairly free and sensual person. No, this Kim Stewart stays by herself

and looks sad."

"Meaning what?" Nichole couldn't follow his thought.

"Meaning, her husband got a lithe physical with her and she didn't like

it. Klaus, good bodyguard and informant that he is, told me they were

drinking at The Red Lion and El Matador the night before he left. From

all that Klaus could find out, her husband Henry had quite a bit to

drink."

Nichole felt a familiar shudder and masochistic thrill go through her

body at the mention of the bodyguard's name. Klaus was strong and hung

like a bull, and he ready knew how to fuck, and she had done a lot of

things with Klaus, things she had watched on film afterwards. Klaus,

and Ernie, the chauffeur, were sometimes teamed with her when Web

wanted to watch or wanted to entertain his guests. She tried not to

think of Klaus and concentrated on Kim. She frowned. "If that's true,

if he got rough and she didn't like it, she's going to be tough. Maybe

it won't be possible." She bit her lower lip and looked beseechingly at

Web.

Web allowed himself a weary look of polite disgust. He sighed. The

trouble with Nichole was---she had no real imagination, no real

understanding of carnality. She loved it, wallowed in it, but didn't

ready understand it. She had no genius for it. Left to her own devices,

she would never land Kim. He saw he was going to have to supervise

Nichole's every move, carefully school her on what to say. "You leap to

the obvious fact and your practical, greedy, earthbound imagination is

content to rest there. A bruise, a beating, a husband leaving. She did

not like being beat up, right?"

"Right."

"Wrong. That is the most obvious thing. And it's stupid, for it

completely rules out what I tell you exists in every woman. Supposing

she is troubled because she did like it?"

Nichole tilted her head, suddenly seeing what he was hinting at.

"Possible."

"Not only possible, it's probable. Supposing she enjoyed it more than

she ever suspected? Supposing, for the first time in her life, she was

sexually excited?" He leaned close to her, smiling. "Remember how

guilty you felt at first?"

Nichole's nostrils flared with a quick passion at his nearness. It was

true. Still, at times, she felt guilty.

Web started the car up and they pulled away. "We're gong home and make

plans. We're going to make them carefully, from your first reunion with

her up until the time she stands in front of me."

Nichole felt a surge of lewd passion at the idea; there definitely was

something wonderfully obscene, sexual, and horny in plotting the

humiliation of Kim Stewart. She squirmed her fishy young buttocks

against the leather seat. "Tell me what you'll do to her," she said in

a breathy voice.

Web chuckled. "I'll do better than that. I'll practice them on you."

Nichole sat with her eyes almost closed, her lips red and pouting and

trembled, the nostrils of her pert nose wickedly flaring in unconcealed

excitement. She felt her suddenly tingling nipples growing taut, and

she crossed her legs and squeezed her thighs tight. Her sensual little

body trembled in fine spasms and lewd excitement as she felt her wetly

trembling cunt swell and become moist with a hot itching that was

sweetly maddening. She needed relief from that itching. She needed to

feel on fire and be naked and lewd. She needed to be fucked! She needed

her body fucked and defiled. She wanted to be fucked again and again,

not just once. She wanted to be fucked by more than one man at the same

time. She wanted to be naked in front of Web and have him tell her all

the horribly exciting, wicked things that he was going to do to her

friend, Kim. She wanted him to practice sex on her.

She said nothing for the rest of the drive through Carmel and through

the Pebble Beach gate all the way to the house. She sat trying to calm

her breathing and the flaming animal passion that coursed through her

body. Web would call her and she would be ready. She gritted her teeth.

He knew how to turn her on, he knew how to excite her. Just a few words

and he had her feeling hopelessly aroused and ready to fuck anyone or

anything. He had her trained, and she clenched her fists and hoped---

she couldn't pray---that he would use her ... use her body ... until

she was a screaming, wildly writhing naked mass of wantonness ...

* * *

Web Hardman didn't know how right he was. It was his genius to detect

traces of sexuality or lewdness in a person's make up. Once, in a rare

mood, he had bragged that he could talk to a person ten minutes, merely

passing the time of day or making polite cocktail chatter, and be able

to tell if that person was sensual or not. He prided himself on his

knowledge of human nature and his powers of observation. He knew, after

watching Kim for a few days, from watching her walk, toss her head,

from the way she looked out to sea, the way she held her shoulders and

contained her hips, he knew that she was deeply sensual ... and ashamed

of it!

But he had guessed right about Hank Stewart's wife. She had been

brutalized and had, after it was all over, after Hank was long asleep,

learned just how much she enjoyed his rough treatment. She had played

with her breasts, hurting them, stinging and tingling her nipples and

then getting up from the bed, fleeing in a guilty way to the closet

where she put on a heavy terry-cloth robe and ran to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, the door shut, she felt safe. She listened at the door

and heard Hank's heavy snore occasionally. She was safe, she had time.

Her breath coming quickly, her eyes aglow, glinting and reflecting an

inner excitement, she turned to the bathroom mirror and pulled the robe

back over her shoulders, letting it fall to where it was tied loosely

around her waist. She stood, naked to the waist and examined her firm

young breasts in the mirror and under the antiseptic bathroom light.

She saw vivid red scratches on her tender flesh and her seeping blood

somehow excited her. There were light pink scratches and darkening

bruises on her shoulders, neck, and inner arms. Her lips, always full

on her wide generous mouth, were a little puffed, and they hurt.

Yet the hurt---all the little hurts---excited her in some alien

unexplained way. Guiltily, she wondered if there was anything wrong

with her, wondering if she was "abnormal" in some way for liking it,

being excited by it. If only ...

She waved a hand in front of her face and refused to finish the thought

as her flesh turned to goose-flesh at half the thought.

She stared at her large, softly upthrust breasts in the mirror, cupping

one and lifting it, then letting it drop quiveringly free. Her finger

and thumb pinched her nipple again, and she watched herself doing it

and saw her nipple gather and swell to life and become pointed and

taut. Her mouth open slightly, her breath coming lighter and faster,

she watched in the mirror as she put both hands on her nipples and

pinched. Her eyes were half-closed, a look of indulgent lewdness came

over her face as she gently dug her nails into her tender, pinkly pale

flesh. Her little nipples grew very taut and even more sensitive; she

closed her eyes and shuddered, taking a deep breath. It did feel good,

in a strange new way. It felt good! She had never thought about it

before nor had anyone ever treated her as roughly as that.

Again the thought came to her. This time she could not resist thinking

it out: if only Hank had been rough and loving at the same time. If

only he hadn't been drunk, if only he had been sober and treating her

rough in a cold calculating way, as part of love-making?

The thought of Hank treating thus as a policy made her body shake in

wanton excitement. She trembled from head to foot and felt an arousal,

a sex desire and thrill like she never imagined existed. Her hands

shaking visibly, she undid the belt of the robe and it fell silently

around her feet. Her eyes half-closed, her eyesight suddenly fuzzed and

her brain reeling, the young wife looked at the rest of her naked body.

Her magnificent thighs were bruised and welted. Her groin was flushed

pink. She turned slowly, twisting her head to see her proudly fleshed

twin buttocks. A dark, deep shudder tremored its way up her spine when

she saw marks where his nails had been imbedded in her softly yielding

flesh.

It was a stolen, secret, guilty, sexual moment when she nakedly stood

in front of the mirror and brazenly looked at her body, turning this

way and that, touching herself here and there. She grinned, thinking

this is what a prostitute does after she has had a rough customer. A

further thrill ran through her as she imagined herself a whore, a

prostitute, standing in front of her fellow whores and showing them her

battered body. They would look and know what she had been through.

She stood still, gazing off. Every woman, at one time or another in her

life, has tried to imagine, to fantasize what it would be like to be a

whore, a common prostitute working in a whorehouse. Although few will

admit it, every woman is secretly excited by the idea. Kim found

herself being aroused by the idea, adding, building on her excitement

at the thought of Hank handling her rough as a matter of course.

Her fingers went up to her erect little nipples again, and she fondled

them and tweaked them, pinching as hard as she dared and feeling the

stinging pain shoot through her body and turn into a hot smoky

pleasure. Her wetly trembling vagina was hot and beginning to itch with

a fierceness that wouldn't be denied. She squeezed her firm young

thighs together, compressing her lust-swollen pussy lips and feeling an

intense delight and momentary relief.

Brazenly, Kim stood up close to the mirror, admiring her body with a

guilty glee. It was sexual, very sexual. It was a full-blown body and,

imagining herself as a whore, she imagined that she had the best body

of any girl in the brothel. She was the star attraction, and men waited

for her to be free. The thought sent shivers up and down her spine and

she stood straight, shoulders back, her hot nipples touching the cold

glass of the mirror. Her breath was coming rapidly, leaving a little

spot fogged on the mirror. With the flat of her hands, she felt her rib

cage and let her hands wander down over her tautly flat stomach and

feel the bruises and see the four wavering, parallel fingernail scratch

marks that started at her pubic hair and went up to her navel.

Her hands were in her pubic hair now, a place she never touched

herself. One palm cupped her round, prominent mound of Venus, and her

fingertips found the delicate valley where her budding clitoris slept.

One outstretched finger barely touched the clitoris, yet it was enough

to send lewd pleasure rippling through her naked young body and make

her clitoris swell until it was a little pink bud that was oiled with

her excitement and maddeningly like a ball bearing as her finger probed

for it and rubbed it, sending ever increasing waves of lascivious

pleasure through her body.

Kim stopped and licked her lips nervously. Although she had heard about

masturbation and knew girls who had done it, she had never allowed

herself to touch herself down there. It was wrong, it wasn't normal!

Now, feeling her sensually aroused body so feverish, feeling so much

had happened to her, Kim knew that just once she was going to be

wicked. As long as Hank had behaved as shamelessly as he had, then she

had the right to behave as she wished. Checking the door to make sure

it was locked, the naked young redhead dragged a stool over to the

mirror and stood in front of it again, taking in her long, lithely

lovely body which was crowned by her glory---her two full, melon-like

breasts.

She put one foot up on the stool, the knee bent and exposing her

nakedly glistening pink little pussy. Her eyelids fluttered like

butterfly wings as she put her hands on her cunt and gently, slowly and

lewdly, spread her fluted cuntal lips to expose the entire blushing

slit. She looked in the mirror and saw her wetly pulsating cunt and its

tiny, distended clitoris. Without volition, her fingers began working

at the sensitive little nerve bud, sending spasms of lewd pleasure

rippling through her body.

The young wife's eyes were almost closed and her nostrils were widely

flared as she watched herself in the mirror. She tried to imagine how

it would be and how she would feel doing a wicked thing like this in

front of Hank, exciting and pleasing him. She would love doing it! She

crouched a little and slowly sank her middle finger into her wetly

clasping cunt, feeling the slipperiness of the lubrication and the hot

velvet walls milking her own finger. She contracted her vaginal

muscles, squeezing on the finger as she shoved it in deeper. It felt so

good! It felt so very, very good! She began sawing in and out, her ripe

young hips slowly and rhythmically beginning to pump in time to her

strokes. She watched herself in the mirror, fascinated with the

lewdness of her pumping motion. She felt hot and feverish all over with

a wild molten feeling beginning to stir deep in her groin.

Her orgasm was building as she increased the tempo of her fingering in

and out of her hotly pulsing cunt, pulling it out to the tip of the

nail then plunging it wetly glistening back in again up to the palm.

Her hips were pumping easily, smoothly, with a lewd fucking motion she

had once seen from a topless dancer in San Francisco that Hank had

insisted on seeing. He had dragged her along, and Kim had been

embarrassed---aside from the dancer, she was the only woman in the

place and all the men were looking at her covered body ... not the

naked dancer's.

Now, she wished she had watched that girl more closely. She would like

to dance lewdly for Hank. Her mind reeled again with the hot lascivious

thoughts she was having. She wished to dance, nakedly sensuous and

wicked ... not only for Hank, but for a lot of people.

Her brazenness fused in her and made her further increase her rhythm

and pace of her finger fucking into her own heatedly excited pussy. She

crouched a little and spread her legs even more. Suddenly, her free

hand was cupping her breast and squeezing the nipple, pinching it tight

and sending bolts of pained sensuality through her that mingled like an

explosive smoky substance in her groin, boiling, building and churning

as it drove her harder and harder.

She was going to cum! And the wantonly aroused girl felt her cum was

going to be sweet and searing, like nothing she had ever felt before.

Her nakedly voluptuous body was tense now and her heavy breasts were

jiggling as she sawed her finger in and out faster and faster. Suddenly

she needed even more. Her free hand left her breasts and flew down,

nails savagely clawing at one cheek of her ass as she leaned forward

and reached for her anus. She jumped when her outstretched fingers

touched it, feeling it sore from Hank's wild probings. Yet an urgency,

an unrelenting need and lewd promise of untold delights made her go on.

Her finger pressed against the rubbery tight ring and parted it, and

she felt her finger filling the entrance to her rectum and the

forbidden feeling filled her with a lust-crazed desire she had never

dreamed of before. Her sphincter muscle closed tightly around the

fingertip. A low lewd moan escaped her throat as she watched herself in

the mirror and felt her ripely sensitive body beginning an inward

swelling that she knew would culminate in an orgasm.

Her finger fucked in and out of her anus, and she hissed in her breath

and it seemed like another person who whispered, "Oooooohhhh, that's so

gooooood!"

It thrilled her so much it made her think of lewd things she wanted to

do with Hank. With anybody! The thought fused and exploded in her mind

and she was wild with cum and wantonness, her face contorted as she

nakedly crouched in front of the mirror. Sweat broke out from the

effort as she sawed madly in and out of her pulpy, moistly soft cunt

that was so hot and wormed her finger deeper into her tightly puckering

anus. Mad obscene thoughts and ideas ran through her mind. Supposing

she were a whore for just one night?

Her hips pumping, her belly moving in abandoned undulations and her

loins rhythmically fucking out toward the mirror in a smooth, ball-

bearing, obscene way, Kim could see her finger disappear into her wetly

glistening pink cuntal flesh. Her thumb massaged the little brown nib

of her clitoris, and she began panting and crouching lower, splaying

out her legs even more, allowing herself greater freedom to stick her

other finger up her rectum.

A lewd relaxation came over her; with a wanton will she never knew she

possessed, she relaxed her tensely tightened cuntal and anal muscles as

her hips pumped back and forth. She shoved her outstretched finger all

the way up her anus and moaned and wiggled with delight from the

feeling it gave her. She took her finger out of her cunt only to shove

three fingers into the warmly milking flesh. More thaw anything, she

wanted to be fucked, to be raped.

Fucked! Raped!

The words were obscene in her mind and only excited her all the more.

She saw her wild face in the mirror, her nakedly crouched body with her

huge, pure-white breasts savagely jiggling and quivering with her

efforts as she finger fucked both cunt and rectum.

It started as a ripple, then grew into surface undulations that seemed

to follow one on another and build until she felt a huge, thick, wave

of sweet hot electricity was flowing through her body. She tensed,

gasped for breath. Her back arched, her warmly quivering breasts jutted

out and brushed against the mirror. Her groin began to convulse in fine

spasms which she found impossible to control as her cum shot through

her. Her legs shook and she sunk to her knees in front of the mirror,

panting, her eyes showing all white.

She seemed held, transfixed, pinned in time and place as her cum

wracked her body in the wildest, most beautiful way. Gradually, it

subsided and she was left sitting on the floor, panting for breath.

Guiltily, she looked at herself in the mirror, at her naked young body

which was still quivering and trembling occasionally with the residue

of her orgasm. Shame came over her and she couldn't look at herself.

Scampering to her feet, she quickly showered, turning the water on as

hot as she could stand it and scrubbing until her creamy translucent

skin was a bright pink and most of the welts and scratches camouflaged.

Kim was ashamed of herself. She vowed she would never do anything like

that again. She wouldn't even think like that ever again. The young

wife excused herself by saying such a thing could happen to her only

because of all they had to drink, Hank's actions, and his going away.

It was am emotional time for both of them, and she excused his behavior

as well as her own.

Dressing in another demure nightie, she unlocked the door and saw her

husband was still sound asleep. It was difficult getting him under the

covers, and she was concerned about his head and the coming morning

when he had to make a plane. She got in bed next to his snoring body

and snapped the lights out.

It took a long time for her to get to sleep and, while waiting for

sleep to come, she forced herself not to think about sex ... or the

possible joys of working in a whorehouse ...

Chapter 4

The morning Hank had left was an emotional charged one for them both,

but Kim in particular. Hank was bleary-eyed and hung over, holding his

bead. "Ouch. Hey, what did I do, fall down or bump into something?"

He was blessed with not remembering much of what had happened the night

before. "I remember being in the Matador and saying goodbye to some

friends. When did we go after that?"

"Home."

"Wow. I feel like a sack of broken bottles, and my tongue tastes like

it's been licking ash trays all night."

He staggered to a hot shower, while Kim made him a bromo and squeezed

fresh orange juice and black coffee. He didn't seem to remember

anything. She remembered everything! Everything that happened and

everything she had felt. He came into the kitchen with his robe on and

drank hot coffee with trembling hands. "Sorry, honey. Hell of a way to

start out ...!" His voice stopped as he stared at her neck. Self-

consciously, she put her hand to her long elegant neck, trying to hide

the angry bruise.

Hank's face clouded over and he put the cup down. "Now I remember. It's

coming back now." He looked at his wife, at her clean patrician good

looks and her wild gypsy hair that crowned her face, trying to read

what she felt there.

It was never discussed. Neither had the nerve to bring it up; not now,

not when they were parting for six months. Time took care of any

discussion. Time has a way of going fast in the morning when you have

to catch a plane. Suddenly, they were rushing, throwing his bags into

the car and racing for the Monterey Airport, with Kim driving and Hank

beside her holding his throbbing head.

Their good-bye was quick, for there was no time, and they stood in the

terminal and Kim cried. It was more than a six month parting and she

had strong feelings of dread. Something terrible was going to happen.

"Take care!"

"I will! Write!"

"I will, every day."

"I'll call you from Rio before we go up river."

"Will you? Promise?"

"Promise."

Then they were hurrying out of the terminal, and she followed him to

the gate where he grasped her in a tight hard embrace. They kissed

good-bye and she felt an anguish surge through her body. And another

feeling mingling with it, a feeling she felt last night. She pulled

away from him and wiped her eyes. They shouted good-byes to one

another, and she watched him make his big-shouldered way to the plane,

swiping at his head, hung over, looking back to wave once more.

She ran up on the observation deck and watched him disappear into the

plane. She stood by the rail, looking at the little windows along the

plane's fuselage and trying to pick him out. She couldn't but smiled

bravely and waved anyway. She kept waving as the plane taxied around

and down the runway where it paused, seeming to crouch on its nose-

wheel and wing wheels, gathering strength for the roaring, running,

joyous leap into the air. The great jet engines screamed into a high

whine and the plane started slow, but suddenly it came in a rush and

was airborne in an ear-splitting roar, rocketing smoothly up into the

crystal clear air. Kim stood on the observation platform, pressed

against the rail, waving until the jet was nothing more than a black

dot growing smaller in the big sky.

She stopped waving, her arm tired, and slumped against the rail. It was

all wrong, all bad the way they had parted, and she had this terrible,

almost overpowering feeling of dread. She pulled herself together,

dabbed at her eyes and determined to gut it through, work it out, make

it good, and, above all, be beyond reproach. She would set an example.

She would show the world and his parents and Hank, too. There would be

no more of those dirty bathroom scenes. She would save herself

completely for him until he returned.

She went home and began a life that was lonely and full of bad

thoughts. She felt bad about herself and the way they had parted. She

went about living, cleaning house, watched television at night, and

walking the beach.

And always, she had that vague uneasy feeling of dread, of something

going wrong. She never noticed that she was being watched ...

There's nothing like a sunny morning in Carmel. Being a town full of

trees, birds sing and chatter and down near the beach, gulls wheel and

tower up, looking much like confetti thrown from skyscrapers in New

York whenever they have a parade.

In Carmel, there are no street addresses. This is by choice, for

Carmelites like their privacy and the daily trip to the post office

where they pick up their mail, meet friends, and chat, sometimes having

coffee. It is said that, sooner or later, you see and meet everyone at

the Carmel Post office. Each morning around nine, after a bracing walk

on the beach, Kim would drive to the post office, park and go to their

mail box. Each morning she saw an air mail letter, her heart would

pound, for it was bound to be a letter from Hank. Each day without a

letter was a disappointment, and she tried hard to conceal her hurt.

Hank had written only twice since he left, and both letters were short

and vague.

This morning there had been no mail. She was leaving the post office,

head down, ignoring the beautiful morning, hands in her pockets, when

out on the street a voice called. "Kim?"

She stopped and turned, seeing an attractive girl on the post office

steps, laughing up at her. Kim smiled in welcome, "Nichole!"

"Kim! It is you! Kim!"

"I didn't recognize you, Nichole."

They embraced; or, rather, Nichole took the red-haired wife in her arms

and kissed her, her lips pecking at Kim's mouth. It was an awkward

moment. Kim liked affection, and she had liked Nichole, but she wasn't

used to such a demonstrative greeting. Also, Nichole had changed in

some subtle way. It wasn't just that she was very well-dressed, very

expensively and tastefully dressed. And it wasn't the fact that her

teeth had been fixed into a dazzling smile. She was obviously doing

well, but it wasn't just that. Kim stared at Nichole and saw something:

hints of debauchery, a certain look in the eyes, a way of smiling, the

first traces of hard lines on the face, an attitude that was a mixture

of barely concealed brazenness, and an expression on her face that

alluded to masochistic acceptance and sensuality.

Again, for no reason she could put her finger on, Kim was filled with a

feeling of dread and bad times yet to come.

Nichole seemed delighted to see her again and the two of them stood

chatting happily while people moved around them on the sidewalk.

Nichole squealed with delight when she saw the wedding ring and wanted

to know all about the marriage. She insisted they have coffee together

and have a good talk. Kim was only too happy to talk, since she had

nothing but the rest of the morning ahead of her. It was good to have

another human being to talk to and she hadn't seen Nichole in a long

time. They had worked together for a brief time about a year ago in a

restaurant called The Butcher Shop, and Nichole had been the cocktail

waitress with the racy reputation.

There were all sorts of rumors about Nichole and what she did when she

wasn't working. Kim had seen her behaving in ways that gave credibility

to the rumors and certainly wasn't any way a proper lady would behave.

Yet, despite everything, she found herself liking Nichole and defending

her to the other waitresses. Nichole seemed a warm, silly, sad human

being to Kim. She sometimes felt the other girl acted the way she did

because she had to have attention. This was strange, for she had a good

personality and certainly was beautiful enough to stand out in any

crowd. Nichole had simply not bothered to show up for the job one

night, and Kim never saw her again ... although she heard rumors that

she was being "kept" by some millionaire in Pebble Beach.

Now, over coffee, she smiled at the sensual looking dark-haired girl

and asked, "And what are you doing now, Nichole?"

"I'm in public relations up in the city."

"San Francisco?"

"Yes, and I just love it. I'm down here on business and pleasure. You

know, any excuse to get back down here." She pointed to the red-head's

wedding band. "What does he do?"

Kim laughed, knowing what Nichole was referring to. "He's an engineer,

and he just left on a job."

"Where?"

"South America," Kim said, thrusting her lower lip out in mock-despair.

"Brazil. Way up the Amazon in some godforsaken place,"

"How long will he be gone?"

"Six months."

"Oh, poor Kim. What are you going to do?"

"Stick it out, keep myself busy."

If the conversation was to be thought of from Kim's standpoint, it must

be recorded that she thought that Nichole was terribly perceptive or

that she was wearing her heart on her sleeve. In what seemed like no

time at all, she found herself talking about Hank and their "problem."

Nichole seemed to be so understanding. Soon, they were paying for their

coffees and walking, talking quietly, feeling they were more private

than in a crowded coffee shop. They walked to Devendorf Plaza, where

they sat on a bench, and Kim found herself pouring her heart out.

Not all her heart and not all the truth. How many of us are capable of

telling the whole truth? She did tell Nichole a great deal of what

happened, and Nichole seemed eager to hear every word, licking her lips

so that they were wetly glistening and her eyes seemed to be just a

little unfocused.

"Wow," she said, when Kim was all through. "I wish I had been there

when you hit him with the flashlight."

Kim was a little taken back by her statement then dismissed it as being

simply Nichole, as her way. She had always been flip and fancy-free,

and sometimes said things just to shock.

They talked on, or rather Kim talked on with Nichole only prompting

her, urging her to talk more. Finally, the young housewife stopped,

embarrassed, as tears blinded her and she groped for words. Nichole

pressed a handkerchief in her hand and walked her back to her car. It

was agreed that Nichole would call her, and they'd get together before

she want back up to the city.

The wildly sensual brunette stood waving as Kim drove off. Once out of

sight, she walked purposely to a car, a Mercedes that was parked nearby

and got in next to a gray-haired man dressed all in gray. She grinned

at him and resisted an urge to throw her arms around his neck and give

him a fervent kiss. You just didn't do things like that to Web Hardman.

"Well?" he asked, arching his eyebrows.

"You're a genius!"

"It went as I said it would?"

"Almost word for word. Web, I think you're right about her. About sex,

I mean."

"We'll see. Did you remember to start the tape recorder?"

Nichole grinned triumphantly, leaning close to him so that he could

smell her perfume and see the deep cleavage between her large, firmly

ripe breasts. Nothing would please her more than to have Web himself

work her over. "Here it is," she said, opening her expensive leather

purse and pulling out a small finely made portable tape recorder. "What

do I do next?"

"That will be determined by what I find on this tape."

Chapter 5

How had it all happened? They had met for a drink. They had met for a

drink in the Pine inn. They had met at the "Happy Hour" in the red and

white Pine inn bar that spoke of elegance, of quiet, casual wealth and

good taste. They had met with the Pine Inn regulars who met every day

at five and drank quietly and well.

And she had too much to drink! She had driven home tipsy, driving

slowly, and felt immediately sleepy going to bed and wondering vaguely

and only half-seriously, if anything had been put in her drink. She had

become "high" so quickly and babbled things she ordinarily wouldn't

have. Before she knew it, she was agreeing to a long weekend with

Nichole up in the city. "What you need is a change. You're in a rut and

you don't know it. I've got a wonderful apartment on Sutter Street.

What you need is a weekend with me. Well go places and meet people and

have a good old dirty time."

Kim had fallen into bed, drowsy, sleepily amused that Nichole had

decided to take over in her life, vaguely pleased that somebody cared

enough to say so and take an interest in her welfare.

Waking the next morning and realizing that, in an hour, Nichole would

be around to pick her up and that she was going to spend a weekend in

lovely San Francisco, she shrugged. Why not? Perhaps the other girl was

right. Maybe she did need a change! Kim dressed and packed quickly.

"Travel light," Nichole had said, "that's my motto: Travel light and

wear sexy underwear."

She looked forward to the weekend despite Nichole's old habit of being

just a bit too rough and sexual in her talk. Somehow, the brunette

always brought the conversation around to men and sex. She really

didn't mind, dismissing it as Nichole's way and need for attention. She

didn't really think anything was meant by it.

Nichole was right on time, arriving in a new Mustang convertible. They

drove up U.S. 1, Kim taking in the coastal scenery as they drove. Then,

like a jewel, a thrill no matter how many times you've seen it, came

the Apple, The Big Apple, San Francisco! The city, a combination of

stately old homes and gracious living; the city, a curious blend of

European comfort and old frontier make-do. The city of the Barbery

Coast and China Town, North Beach and the Mission district, Nob Hill

and Haight-Ashbury, The Panhandle and the financial district.

It retains some of its bawdy, lusty, goldrush past. It is the original

home of the topless and bottomless, of the porny movies and live sex

shows. It is a sin-drenched city and it is a graceful entity to good

living---the De Young Museum, The Palace of The Legion of Honor, and

the opera. It has its ballet and art exhibits. It is the home of the

1950's Beats---Beatniks and the poetry movement of North Beach. It is a

melting pot for east and west, and has always been drug-oriented

because of Chinatown and the opium trade and wars that flourished as

far back as the nineties.

San Francisco is, as connoisseurs of female flesh are quick to point

out, a city full of extremely beautiful girls. To this already happy

horde were added two more: Nichole and Kim. They arrived in the

afternoon. Nichole's apartment was all that she said it was---and more.

It was spacious and Kim would have a bedroom of her own. The sensual

looking brunette mixed drinks right away, then told Kim to wander

around and make herself at home, while she made some phone calls.

Kim moved around the expensive apartment, admiring the furniture and

paintings, only half-listening to Nichole. Suddenly, she was listening

hard. "That's right. Her name is Kim Stewart, and she's a real

knockout. Yeah. Yeah. Relax, she's married. That's right, I said

married. Be here about six."

Nichole hung up and waved a depreciating hand at Kim's wondering stare.

"Relax! All I'm doing is lining up dates for us. Escorts. Listen, it's

easier with an escort. Lots of places we couldn't go if it wasn't for

escorts. Besides, they know you're married, and all they're doing is

acting as an escort. God, Kim," Nichole frowned, "sometimes you're an

old maid."

The words stung. Kim tried not to show it. All she had done was direct

a questioning frown at Nichole. Could the brunette be right? Wasn't

she, after all, leaping to conclusions? Wasn't Nichole doing nothing

more than being thoughtful by providing her with am escort? Maybe she

was getting to be an old maid. Maybe she missed Hank too much and felt

a vulnerability in the big city. But that feeling of dread was on her

again! It stayed with her the rest of the afternoon. They lunched in a

smart place on Union Street, and Nichole seemed possessed of a wooden

leg, belting one scotch on the rocks down after another. Back at the

apartment, she mixed even more drinks while they awaited their

"escorts."

Kim was feeling no pain by the time the two men got there, yet that

feeling of impending doom took an immediate surge when Nichole said,

"Kim, I want you to meet Klaus. And this big one here is Ernie.

Gentlemen, this is Mrs. Kim Stewart."

They were polite enough and well-dressed. Klaus had a slight accent and

a look that she didn't like. Ernie was rougher, bigger, quieter, and

tough with a cynical smile below his broken nose. Klaus introduced

himself somewhat formally, saying he was in "Transportation. Ernie

there is in security." Kim got the distinct impression that Ernie was a

private detective or had something to do with plainclothes work for the

police.

They sat around and chatted about the coming evening. Right before the

doorbell rang, Nichole had given Kim a pep talk, telling her not to let

it all hang out, but to try and concentrate on other things and just

have a good time ... going out on the town for a change and having a

ball. Now, the red-haired housewife sat, trying to appear gay and

sophisticated to Klaus.

"Ve vill show you the sights, North Beach and the topless-bottomless

clubs."

"Klaus," Nichole cut in, "maybe I didn't tell you on the phone, but,

well ..."

Her words died in the air and they all looked at one another. That is,

except for Kim who felt embarrassed because no one looked at her.

"Vell, vhat?" Klaus asked, hissing the S out.

"Well ... I don't think Kim ... I don't know if she's ready for that."

"Ready?" Klaus looked at Kim in mock amazement. "Ready? My dear

Nichole, I must say you can be condescending when you wish to be. What

you're saying is that Mrs. Stewart, a mature, married, and, I must say

attractive, female isn't 'ready' to see a naked woman dance on a stage.

You make it sound like she's not quite old enough, or hasn't had enough

experience to see something so risque, is that it? Or," he added

teasingly, "perhaps it is beneath her?"

"No!" Kim was surprised how quickly she interrupted. "No, that isn't it

at all."

"No?" Klaus looked superior. "Then perhaps it's too much for Nichole.

Perhaps she is using you to hide behind"

Nichole and Ernie both erupted in raucous laughter. Kim joined in self

consciously, playing the role of the big city sophisticate even though

she didn't like it. No matter what, she had her pride, and she wasn't

going to let them be patronizing to her. Cannel was a small town in

population only. Down on the peninsula, they were as sophisticated as

anyone. "No," she said, pretending to be worldly. "As a matter of fact,

I'm dying to see one."

"You sure?"

Nichole asked the words with such obvious condescension, asking the

question as if Kim were five years old. Anger flushed in her. No matter

what, she didn't like being made fun of. No one did! The red-haired

wife's back stiffened. "Of course. Can we go now and not waste time?"

Klaus glanced at his watch. "Yes, I think we can catch an earlier

show."

Ernie grinned at her. "We're just being friendly. Don't want to scare

you."

"Don't worry," Kim said, flirting a bit with Ernie and enjoying her

audacity. "I've been around a bit."

Klaus, Ernie, and Nichole exchanged a smiling look that annoyed Kim,

for she didn't share in whatever confidence they were exchanging.

Finally, Klaus said, "Shouldn't we get prepared for the event?"

"Fine with me," Ernie said, getting a flat cigarette case out.

Kim's back bristled. Perhaps she was all wrong, but she thought she

knew what was going to happen. She couldn't speak as she watched Ernie

carefully take a thin, dark brown cigarette out of his case and

carefully hand it to Klaus who sniffed it, smiled, and just as

carefully handed it to Kim. "Very good," he growled.

Kim held it like it was a bomb and passed is to Nichole with a pasty

smile on her face. Nichole leaned to her, her voice lowered. "This is

hashish. The very finest. Have you ever bad any?"

Numbly, Kim shook her head. She knew what marijuana was, but wasn't

sure what hashish was. Whatever it was, she didn't want any. "Just take

a few drags of it, and if you don't like it, stop."

That sounded fair and none of the others seemed at all alarmed. It was

a bad scene, an uncomfortable situation to be in, yet she was

determined to bluff it through. Again, her feeling of dread came over

her in a rush.

"Slowly, slowly," Klaus instructed her as she took a drag from the

lighted cigarette he offered her. She had watched him inhale, and she

did it very gently. It had a strange but not unpleasant taste. She took

the cigarette again when it came around to her and inhaled deeper on

the next puff and held it down the way everyone else was doing.

After three or four inhalations, Kim could hardly feel it going down,

it was so smooth. Soon, it seemed like she was doing nothing but

holding her breath.

"I don't feel a thing," she said in a voice that didn't sound like her.

She looked at Klaus and Nichole on either side of her, and they

suddenly looked as if they were miles and miles away.

"Do you feel anything?"

"Yes, darling, I feel the world. I feel old San Francisco and it's hot

and it's horny." It seemed a logical answer to Kim, and suddenly she

felt the same way too. She bad never felt the world around her before.

How strange, how odd not to be vitally aware of the universe around

her.

She was inhaling again and liking the taste it left in her mouth. The

longer it stayed down the softer it felt inside ... and the softer she

felt!

She sat in silence, lulled, taking the newly offered brown cigarette

like a robot, inhaling and passing it along to Nichole. She could feel

the pressure of Klaus' leg against her thigh, but the inhalation duped

her fears. In fact, it dulled all her fears, even that feeling of

impending dread. His leg felt good, and she returned the pressure

slightly to let him know she didn't mind. She was going to show them

she was liberal minded.

The drugged young wife now didn't seem to mind anything at all ... not

with that sweet smoke in her ... she could feel it licking smoky and

seductive deep inside ... deeper than she had felt anything since that

night in the bathroom. She didn't even mind thinking of that now, and

she pressed her warm fleshy thigh even tighter against Klaus' knee.

The pungent sweetness of the narcotic hung heavy in the room and in the

cab as they rode to North Beach all crammed next to one another. Kim

liked the feeling of Ernie's powerful body pressed next to her. As the

taxi swayed across town, she began to realize that the pungent aroma,

that deadly sweet odor, was not only in her nostrils, but in her mind

as well.

She reeled under the total impact of the drug and felt giddy and silly,

and was glad she had Nichole and Ernie and Klaus to guide her about and

be responsible for her. Without them, she would have gone where bidded

and done what she was told. She felt like a butterfly borne, tossed,

and turned on some mighty slipstream, buffeted about without being able

to help it. The world was too large and too full of distractions for

her to be able to make any decisions. Dimly, she could divine that

Ernie was with Nichole and Klaus was her date ... escort.

She giggled, feeling naughty, going to see a topless dancer with a

strange man. How many women did that? Klaus gently guided her by the

elbow into a night club that advertised TOTALLY NUDE outside. Once

inside, it was pitch black and Kim opened her eyes wide, trying to see

where she was stepping. Klaus guided her all the way, and the four of

them sat at a little table with Klaus holding her hand and gently

moving his knee against her thigh. He gave her hand a little reassuring

squeeze, and she squeezed back as they all looked up at a tiny,

brightly lighted stage.

Kim watched, fascinated, her stare a hypnotic drugged one. Idly, she

wondered if people could tell she was high. She tried to remember what

it was they had smoked ... it wasn't marijuana. Her thoughts seemed

difficult and almost impossible to collect and regulate. She shook her

head and watched a young girl mounting the tiny stage that had mirrors

for a backing. Once up on the platform, the girl casually pulled her

dress off her head and stood listening to the beat of the music on the

juke box; she wore nothing but an Indian headband and a pair of

sandals.

It was a powerful sensual shock to Kim, looking at another woman's

naked body with a group of virtual strangers. The dark bar was packed,

mostly with men and with the majority of them being military people.

Almost timidly, the drugged housewife looked up at the girl who had

short hair and a slim, boyish body. At first glance, she could have

been a boy. Her hips were slim and her buttocks small and tight, and

her breasts were high and small, almost non-existent when she stretched

her arms above the head. Her nipples were a dark red, hard and tight,

like pencil erasers. Her pubic hair was black and there wasn't much of

it over her firm little mound of Venus. Even her pouting---dry---cuntal

lips looked tight and small.

It seemed obscene somehow to look at another woman's vagina along with

a roomful of strangers and see the lips form more distinctly, see the

indentation by her thighs take place. Suddenly, with a barely

suppressed gasp, Kim realized the girl was getting excited by standing

naked before a roomful of strangers. It, the idea and the act, was

exciting not only the girl, but Kim! She was astounded by the wanton

strength of her own lasciviousness and sensuality. Somehow, it must be

all mixed with the pungent smoke.

Slowly, Kim let her eyes wander from the girl's tight little cunt to

see that she was standing nakedly right in front of her. The dancer

squatted obscenely so Kim could look right up at her narrow cuntal slit

and see the fluted pink edges slightly trembling. Slowly, the

embarrassed young wife looked up to see that the girl was wantonly

smiling down at her, snapping her fingers in time with the music, and

slowly undulating her hips in a most obscene and suggestive way,

It was as if the girl was crouching, offering her pussy to Kim and to

Kim alone! It was with a shock that the red-haired wife gradually

realized the girl was inviting her to caress the warmly perfumed cuntal

flesh and everyone in the room must know it. Kim darted a nervous look

at Klaus who shrugged, and at Nichole who laughed and looked back up at

the girl.

The naked dancer, rubbing her hands up and down her thighs, mouth open,

eyes half-closed, turned and sensuously swayed down the platform until

she was in front of Nichole who seemed to ravish the girl with her

eyes. The dancer crouched before the brunette, her legs wide-split, her

now pinkly glistening pussy pumping lewdly back and forth not two feet

from Nichole's face.

Kim felt she had to be imagining things, that it was all the---what was

it?---the "hashish" they had smoked. It had to be! The girl couldn't be

a lesbian. Nor could Nichole! She was just enjoying the dance, that's

all. Yet it seemed so obvious, so blatant. Kim watched the girl and her

straining thighs and firmly jiggling little breasts, and the whole idea

seemed so wicked and so risque and wild that it excited her. It touched

a chord deep in her drugged body that vibrated out of control for a

moment, bringing a hot, itchy moisture to her vagina and forcing her to

close her legs and squeeze her thighs together to stop the insane

throbbing of her clitoris.

The girl dancer had hips that seemed to be attached to her body by ball

bearings and stainless steel springs; she gyrated and rotated, her

tight little buttocks visible in the mirror as they jumped and jiggled

and grew taut as she danced. The music was growing wilder and wilder as

she cupped her orange-sized breasts and seemed to offer them to the

room at large, but really giving them in silent invitation to Nichole

right in front of her. She stopped dancing and stood with her legs

spread wide apart and slowly---as Kim gaped and leaned forward, her

hand on Klaus' knee---slowly, lewdly and wantonly rotated her hips and

rolled her buttocks so that her pussy slit glinted moistly in the

light. Her mouth dry and her heatedly throbbing clitoris pounding

again, Kim squeezed Klaus on the knee and looked at Nichole. The

brunette was hungrily staring right at the offered cunt, her eyes half

closed, her face dark and intense.

Slowly, as Kim watched, the red, wetly quivering little tip of her

tongue licked her lips.

Kim fell back in her chair, letting go of Klaus and suddenly aware of

his big strong hand on her knee. He ran his hand further up her thigh,

whispering, "Did you see that?"

All she could do was nod, looking at the two women who seemed to be

transfixed. Then, abruptly, the dance was over and the girl grinned and

stood up, reaching for her dress while the room exploded in applause.

It seemed as if everyone knew what was happening, and the atmosphere

was heavy with a lewdly sensuous feeling---a strong surging sense of

immorality. Kim sat silent in her chair, white and shaken, because she

had never seen anything like that before between two women, and had

never dreamed of such a thing about Nichole.

She passed a vague hand over her eyes, thinking she must be seeing

things, imagining things. Yet, the dancer did look kind of boyish and

she was down off the stage and dragging a chair up by Nichole and

whispering to her. Kim felt shaken for two reasons: imagining such a

thing about a friend; and also realizing that the wildly vulgar dance

she had just seen and the non-verbal exchange she had witnessed had

wantonly excited her beyond anything she had ever imagined. Her sopping

young cunt fairly ached, forcing her to twist and turn under Klaus's

hand in an effort to find a better way to sit. She moved uncomfortably,

feeling as though her entire vagina was on fire. She felt immersed in a

whole world of lewdness. Sex was everywhere in the bar. Men were

looking hungrily at her as they waited for another dancer. Men were

looking with the hot perfume of sex in the air! IT WAS EXCITING!

While the drugged young housewife sat in a kind of sexual reverie,

"feeling the world around her" and feeling her immediate world of the

sleazy dark bar, another dancer walked up on the platform and began

taking off her dress to reveal her buttocks bare and bulging. While all

these things were happening all around her, Kim could feel her flesh

and found it excited. Men were mentally undressing her and Nichole.

Suddenly Kim sat forward, noticing her three companions weren't looking

at the stage. They weren't paying any attention to the new dancer, but,

rather, had their heads bent together and were talking excitedly in low

voices.

Kim leaned closer to hear what they were saying.

"Why not?"

"One in a million chance."

"1 wouldn't miss it for anything."

"What?" Kim asked, interrupting, eager, squirming to know what it was

that was so interesting. The three of them looked at her, and Ernie had

his cynical smile. "No," he said, looking at Klaus and shaking his

head, "I don't think we can do it."

"Vhy?" Klaus asked.

Ernie nodded at Kim, and they all looked at her.

She could tell she was still suffering from the effects of the

cigarette. Everyone seemed far away, like looking at people through the

wrong end of a telescope. Yet she could hear what they were saying.

"What? What about me?" Kim asked, her voice sounding strange and far

away.

Klaus patted her knee in a paternal way. "Nothing. This girl here, this

dancer, talked to Nichole, and it seems she knows where a live sex show

is going to be."

"Live? Real?" Kim gaped at the girl in disbelief.

Klaus nodded. "An orgy. For a price, they allow people to watch."

The thought staggered Kim. She had never in her life dreamed of such a

thing. Yet, San Francisco seemed full of everything else sexual. She

had even read articles about the so-called massage parlors. Why not

orgies with an audience?

"Since they are against the law, they are very hard to get to see,"

Klaus went on, explaining. "Since nothing is held back at these orgies,

I'm afraid they will always be outside the law. I can't conceive of a

government that would ever permit such things publicly."

"Why? What happens at these ... things?" Kim couldn't resist the

question. The thought of watching people do what they would ordinarily

do in privacy, in bed, in a whorehouse, was too thrilling to resist.

She shifted again on the chair, feeling the tight crotchband of her

panties bite into the wetly swollen lips of her cunt. She crossed her

legs tight, feeling the band bite deeper, feeling her excited clitoris

grow oiled with her own heat and slip out of the band. By rocking back

and forth, pretending to listen to Klaus explain above the music, she

was able to rub her clitoris back and forth against the band, exciting

her so that her face was flushed and the nipples of her breasts

hardened, shrinking into tightly erect points. Klaus was telling her

about one he had attended some time ago, and she was imagining herself

standing nakedly in front of a group, showing them her proud body and

its scratches and bruises. She clenched her fists to keep from

shuddering.

"Naturally, orgies are hard to find because they are secret. They take

precautions and this is a lucky break."

"How do you know this is ... genuine? The real thing?" Kim asked.

Klaus smiled politely. "You saw that girl dance. And she says that the

price is seventy five per person. That follows my experience and lends

credence."

"S ... seventy five dollars?"

Klaus nodded. "Believe me, you get your money's worth."

Nichole tapped Klaus on the knee, getting his attention. "Don't

embarrass my friend. She doesn't have to go if she doesn't want to."

"Yeah," Ernie added, "now's the time to take the party-poopers home."

"Ernie!" Nichole protested. "Don't talk that way."

"Why not? Hell, we're all tip-toeing around afraid of Miss What's-Her-

Name here. Hell, let her go home. I wouldn't miss this orgy for

anything

Klaus looked at Kim and shrugged. "Rude as he is, I'm afraid I agree

with him. I'm going to go. I'll be happy to take you back to the

apartment."

"Well, I think you both are being rotten to Kim!" Nichole said.

"Oh?" Ernie leered. "I suppose you're not going?"

Nichole looked right in his face. "I wouldn't miss it for all the money

in California, and you know how much I love money, honey. Don't you

worry about old Nichole. I'll be right there in the front row. And you

two will be with me. No, that isn't it. What frosts me about you two is

the way you assume Kim won't Go. Hell, you haven't even asked her if

she wanted to go!"

Again, they all looked at the embarrassed red-haired housewife who

tried to look cool and poised. Nichole was the first to speak. "Do you

want to go? If you don't, we understand. Well drop you at my

apartment."

Kim's mouth was dry. Her fingers trembled. Her drugged young body was a

mass of swirling emotions and conflicting feelings. She couldn't help

thinking of Hank and remembering her near-rape. Going to an orgy would

be daring and wicked and something she would never forget.

"W ... would I ... would ... w ... we ... would we have to do anything

but watch? I mean ..." She licked her lips and tried to hide her

excitement and fear.

"No, this girl says they have arrangements where one can watch in

private."

"T ... the money ..." Kim began.

Klaus waved her problem away. "I would be delighted."

Before she realized it, the hashish playing tricks with her sense of

time, they were threading their way through the tables with Kim looking

back and thinking, "My God, I never even looked at the other dancer!"

Yet, as they crowded into a cab and she felt Klaus pressing his whole

leg against hers, she felt a thrill and giggled. All of them seemed to

have their adrenaline running high now. They were conspirators and they

shared a secret: they were gong to do something illegal. More than

that, they were going to do something immoral, sinful, lustful! They

were going to watch an orgy!

To her surprise, Kim found that the address was on Russian Hill instead

of some grimy tenement in the Haight. A doorman in regal livery

politely asked them to stand in front of a television camera whip he

punched the floor and apartment number Nichole gave him. Nichole smiled

at the camera. A voice came through a chrome-faced speaker. "Yes?"

"Mr. Burdick?" Nichole asked as she had been instructed.

"Which Mr. Burdick?" the query came cautiously .

"The one from Sharon, New York, who smokes Chesterfields."

There was a click then a voice asked, "How many?"

"Four."

"Another click and, "Let them in, Albert."

The doorman showed them into a tastefully decorated lobby that smacked

of wealth. Kim seemed to stumble and float like a weightless leaf on

water.

Chapter 6

The apartment itself was large, a duplex, and was tastefully decorated.

Modern abstract paintings hung from the walls, setting off rooms with

blacks and slashes of vivid color. The furniture was modern and

elegant. It reminded Kim of apartments she had seen in fashion

magazines. Cool quiet jazz came from speakers that were all through the

apartment, and the lights were on a rheostat that someone was

manipulating, lowering the lights just as Kim and Nichole came in with

their escorts.

A sleek, chicque girl in a clinging dress greeted them and showed them

to the largest room of the apartment. Here it seemed, was the orgy.

Here everyone was gathered, waiting, talking murmuring against the

music excited, anticipating the great event. Their young guide showed

them to a couch along one wall where they could sit. The center of the

room was cleared of furniture, and mattresses had been laid out on a

platform that was about waist high. Couches and chairs were strung out

around the platform on all sides. Kim and her friends were in the very

back row with only a wall behind them.

"I thought this was to be private," Kim whispered.

The girl overheard and smiled at her. "We have rooms you can watch it

from on closed circuit television or a two-way mirror," the girl smiled

coolly at Kim. "Only two people to a room."

Kim shook her head. She didn't want to get separated from her friends;

safety in numbers, she thought, looking around. The four of them sat

against the wall and watched the room filling up with people. Kim

stiffened. A young girl with large breasts was coming toward them. The

girl was naked! No, worse than being naked, she was only wearing black

boots and a flimsy, blood-red G-string. The tiny G-string didn't really

cover much; it only seemed to draw attention to her cuntal crevice,

that fleshy gully up between her legs. Her breasts were huge and jutted

out and shook and quivered when she walked.

She came with her hands on her hips and stood in front of them.

"Coffee, tea, or me?" she asked.

"You!" Ernie thundered.

"Thanks. Later. No, really, I'm supposed to ask you if you'd like some

champagne or grass?"

"Both," Klaus said. "Bring us a bottle and whatever you have to smoke."

The girl turned and sauntered off with Kim watching her ripely naked

buttocks rise and fall with every step. It was all too lewd and casual

and exciting for her to believe. She found she couldn't say anything as

the girl came back with an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne in it

and bent over, her breasts hanging and seeming to swell, as she put

some thin brown cigarettes on an ash tray on the coffee table in front

of them. The girl grinned brazenly at Ernie. "You can give me my tip

later."

They all laughed and Ernie poured the wine while Klaus lit up one of

the cigarettes and passed it around. Kim accepted a glass of champagne

gratefully. Her mouth was dry and she needed something to quench her

thirst. She gulped the drink and found it tickling her nose with its

wondrous carbonation. She took the offered cigarette and smelled the

thick, sweet odor of it ... then inhaled.

And the room grew dark except for baby spots that were trained on the

mattresses on the platform in the center of the room. The pungent

sweetness of marijuana and hashish smoke hung heavily in the air. Kim

saw everything through a screen, a haze. She could see the burning tips

of the cigarettes in the darkness. The room grew quiet as the music was

turned low; soon only the sound of an occasional inhalation and

exhalation could be heard. It all looked chic and exciting to Kim.

Another glass of champagne was put into her hand by Klaus. She had

drunk the first one without a thought. It didn't matter, the cool

liquid going down her hot dry throat felt good. It was nice to have

Klaus looking after her, she mused as she sipped.

A murmur of excitement swept through the room, and in the soft velvety

darkness, Kim could see a figure moving toward the platform.

The girl with the black boots and red G-string got up on the platform

and stood in the light. The spotlights made her nakedly gleaming flesh

seem all the more white and her breasts stood out full and rich and

heavy. She took her G-string off while smiling and talking to the

people nearest the platform. She stepped out of the G-string and stood

legs apart, hands on her hips, her pinkly glistening cuntal lips

clearly visible in the light. She twirled the G-string in one hand and

let it fly out into the darkness and the audience.

Slowly, the fingers of one hand slipped down and spread her pouting

vaginal layers of soft flesh, letting everyone see her femaledom as she

slowly turned around and around. Kim looked at the girl's cunt and saw

it was wet and a scarlet red; it was obvious that she was eager for

action. The expression on the girl's face was one of lewd amusement;

she knew she had a good body and ran her hands over it in self-

appreciation.

She stopped to pick up something near the edge of the platform. Klaus

handed Kim a cigarette, and she took her eyes away from the stage to

take another, deeper drag and sip her champagne. When she looked up

again, she saw that the girl was coating her body, smoothing and

smearing some kind of clear fine oil all over her large, whitely firm

breasts. She rubbed it over her hardened nipples, obviously enjoying

the sensual feel of the oil. Kim joined in the murmur that went around

the room. Klaus said something low and shifted his body closer to hers.

The girl stood with her legs apart on the mattress and covered her ripe

young body with oil until she gleamed and glinted in the overhead

light. Oil sheened on her thighs and stomach and huge breasts. The girl

was the personification of lewdness as she stooped to take off her

boots. "NO, no!" came cries from the audience, "leave them on!"

The girl stopped and grinned out at the darkness, then her smile faded

and her eyes narrowed in anticipation. Kim could see another dark form

moving toward the platform.

A man leaped onto the mattresses, and Kim gasped aloud with other women

in the room. The man was naked, completely naked! Although not

particularly good looking, he was very well developed, like a fighter.

He was heavily muscled and had the largest penis that Kim had ever

seen! A dirty little thrill of wantonness made her clench her fists and

sit with her legs crossed, so she could squeeze her clitoris again as

she looked at the cock. As the amazed young housewife watched, the girl

dropped to her knees in front of the man, her face right in front of

his massively throbbing penis and began to smear oil on his strong

thighs and flat, slabbed, stomach.

Kim watched with her mouth open, the champagne and cigarette forgotten

as she stared at the great pulsating cock. It was the biggest she had

ever seen with the blunted red head protruding from its sheath, and it

was growing every minute as the girl rubbed his body all over. Yes, Kim

thought with excitement, his erection was growing and thickening right

there in front of her eyes. The head was growing more round, more

flanged, deeper in color, turning a blood-filled purple with its tiny

gland opening distended and visible even from where they sat. The girl

moved forward on her knees and the room was silent save for the quiet

music in the background. Everyone seemed to lean forward together,

collectively holding their breath as the girl fondled his big hairy

balls in the cups of her hands and gently massaged them, covering them

with oil.

The expression on her face was quietly ecstatic, her eyes half closed,

her wetly parted lips smiling as she took the thick white stalk of his

cock in her hand. Kim saw the way her fingers wrapped around its

thickness and looked so small as she squeezed it. She could see blood

rush to the surface where her fingers squeezed, and the cock seemed to

grow even more monstrous in her hand. It seemed to be heavy and hot in

the girl's hands, for she had put both of her hands on it, holding it

between her open palms and rubbing oil on it so that it gleamed in the

light. Kim swallowed and shuddered with the thought: I wish that was me

up there oiling his penis ...

The gentle caresses made the thick hard cock jump and jerk in her hand,

and she paused to grip it again and pull the foreskin back over the

swollen head. Kim saw the cock as some angry prehistoric animal wanting

to burst its way free, wanting to roll back the skin and be revealed in

all its blood-throbbing mushroomed splendor.

Kim wasn't thinking of who or where she was, as she watched the girl

lean hungrily forward and the tip of her tongue flick over the greased,

lust-swollen head of his penis. The man shuddered and his tough face

was in shadow as he looked down at the girl kneeling in front of him.

Suddenly, his hands tangled in her hair and he urged her forward.

The girl only smiled at his crude suggestion. His eagerly throbbing

cock was gleaming now with oil as she gently stroked it, forcing the

skin back further and further, revealing a little more of his thick

purple head each time.

Kim shifted nervously next to Klaus. She had never seen anything like

this. Topless-Bottomless was one thing, but this was another. Klaus was

concentrating on the scene and had forgotten the champagne. Kim drained

her glass and reached forward and hurriedly poured herself another one,

her eyes on the platform.

The girl was arching her shiny back now, allowing her large full

breasts to stick out and up as she guided the cock over her oily

breasts, letting it slip and prod, jerkingly, at her erect little

nipples. She slowly let its pulsating thickness circle her breasts as

they all watched. The girl suddenly let go of the penis; it snapped

erect, and she put it between her deep cleavage. As everyone watched,

she tried to squeeze her breasts together, her hands slipping and

sliding with her efforts.

Excitement was running high in the room. Klaus, next to Kim, swung his

arm around her and pulled her close, his hand dangerously near her

breast, his hip and muscular thigh grinding into hers.

Kim was about to pull away, when the girl, her face contorted by a

sudden lust, moved back from the man, seized his cock in both her

slippery hands and peeled his thick leathery foreskin all the way back

so his shining mushroom was fully revealed for all to see.

But for only a second. Her eyes closed, her wetly eager mouth open, the

girl leaned forward and took the head of his impatiently jerking long

cock in her ovaled mouth, her moist lips spreading tight over the

blood-filled head just as the foreskin had. The girl began to suck, her

cheeks hollowing and her Adam's apple bobbing.

To Kim it was the most savage, perverted, obscene sight she had ever

seen! And the most exciting! The girl and man gleamed, their oil-

covered bodies glinting off light. The man stood with a sardonic grin

on his face, looking down, his legs apart and his knees slightly bent

in order to thrust forward his groin. The girl kneeled before him,

naked except for her black boots, her ripely fleshed buttocks gleaming

and shining with oil, her back coated, her breasts jutting forward as

she arched her back and her tightly compressed lips sucked hard on his

cock. Everyone in the smoke-filled room could see her tongue twirling

around inside by the bulges on her cheeks.

The man was growing excited now, his lips twisting in a smile, his

fingers gripping the girl's tousled head. His hips began pumping

forward and back in a most lascivious way. Kim found herself literally

panting, her mouth dry and open as she watched his thick white stalk,

like a glistening tree stump, slide in and out of the young girl's

wetly ovaled mouth.

The girl heightened the lewdness and wantonness of the scene by letting

her hands slide along the man's thighs until her arms circled his torso

and her fingers found the tight crevice of his tensed buttocks. She

began urging his thrust deeper into her mouth with her hands as she

pulled him toward her in perfect rhythm with his wild pumping.

Alongside her, Kim could feel Klaus becoming more and more restless;

she was sure, too, that he could feel her grinding her own buttocks

into the couch on occasion. She tried to make it appear that all she

was doing was changing position, but it was becoming more difficult by

the minute to conceal her frustration. Klaus's hand had begun to knead

her breast under her dress in a slow rhythmic way, making her little

cherry-like nipples throb with a guilty lusting pleasure.

The aroused young wife tried to shrink down on the couch, involuntarily

snuggling closer to Klaus. A moan from Nichole made her look down the

couch. Her shock must have registered, for Klaus looked too. Nichole

had both her long tapered legs spread wide, her dress up over her hips.

Ernie's big hand was inside her bikini panties, cupping her mound of

Venus. Kim shuddered as the outline of his fingers moved and probed

under the sheer material. He was stroking in rhythm, sinking one finger

deep into her eagerly thrashing vagina. Nichole, seemingly unaware of

anyone, was grinding her pelvis with her buttocks lifted off the

cushions, in rhythm to the finger screwing into her. Both she and Ernie

had their eyes fixed on the lascivious exhibition.

Kim looked around---other couples were in obscene embraces, indistinct

in the smoky, hazy dark but showing by their restless writhing motion

that the salacious spectacle on the platform was affecting them---they

were losing control over their passions. A warning alarm bell sounded

deep in Kim's subconscious. She knew she should run---now---just get up

and walk out---before her own body succumbed to the wanton urges that

were pulsing and pounding through it. Then, a groan from the stage made

her snap back her drugged attention.

The room was getting hot, and the two on the stage were beginning to

sweat, their greased bodies glistening. The man now had the girl's head

pinned firmly in place with a wild and vicious grip. His thick

glistening cock was sliding in and out of the girl's mouth as his hips

viciously pumped. Kim thought the girl would choke or gag when the

wetly glistening shaft was shoved the full length into her mouth, but

the eagerly sucking girl held on to the man's slippery, oiled buttocks

with all her strength, a look of lewd rapture on her face as her lips

ovalled tightly around the cock. The muscles in her arms rippled as she

pulled on his buttocks, trying to get more of the rampant stalk of hot

hard fish in her mouth.

The crowd in the room groaned again as another figure mounted the low

platform. It was the girl dancer from the bar! She too, was naked and

her slim boyish hips and small firm breasts were covered with oil. She

glistened and glinted as she moved, caressing the girl's nakedly

quivering buttocks and pressing her own restless loins against their

warm fleshiness. More groans of lust came from the audience when she

reached around and cupped the sucking girl's breasts, pinching the

slippery nipples with the tips of her fingers.

Kim's breath was coming in tight gasps, and the burning sensation

fermenting in her belly grew in maddening intensity with each movement

was she watched the young girl being ravished by the man and the

lesbian dancer. The excited sex-heat of the audience acted like a giant

furnace, and the drugged young housewife could feel a trickle of sweat

running from her navel down her belly into her pubic hair. Its slow

teasing trail caused her to squirm down against the firm leather edges

of the cushion, which rubbed sensuously against the moist, hair-lined

flanges of her hotly throbbing pussy. She bit hard against her lower

lip to keep back a groan of frustration.

Her forehead was covered with a fine mist of perspiration from the

feverishly writhing bodies all around her. Klaus, his mouth open, his

eyes on the platform, let his hand fall inside her dress. Kim stiffened

and looked around. No one was watching and, if she wanted him to, he

would stop. Her young, frantically aroused body trembled as she let him

wedge his hand between her naked breast and brassiere, near her nipple.

Another trickle of sweat ran down the valley between her ripely full

breasts, causing her to squirm more, thus allowing his fingers to probe

for and find the nipple. He pinched it and she jumped, feeling a tiny

pain then a lewd thrill of pleasure.

Her nerves were shattered and her mind reeled with indecision as the

drug, the champagne, and the salacious scene in front of her worked

powerfully on her feelings. She knew she should demand that they take

her home. Nichole and her friends were just a little too fast for her,

and this wasn't being true to Hank. She owed faithfulness to Hank, and

she had already gone too far by watching such an exhibition and letting

Klaus, a stranger, massage her breast. He was doing it right at that

minute, urging her nipple into a pouted hardness, bringing on a wanton

feeling that was wild and made her thirst for more. Thirst! Her mouth

was dry and she drained her champagne glass again. Klaus, with his free

hand, poured her more; she quietly drank it down, smacking her lips and

liking the taste.

Still, she felt they had been so patronizing to her, so talked down to

her that she was determined to show them she wasn't a child or an old

maid. Petting didn't hurt so long as it didn't go any further. She

could always stop Klaus if he tried anything more than toying with her

breasts.

She looked down the couch, past Klaus, at Nichole. Ernie was sitting

forward and facing Nichole now, his hand still in her panties and his

fingers lewdly pumping in and out of her vagina. His free hand was

unbuttoning the top of her dress and, as Kim watched, she saw one of

Nichole's magnificently formed breasts billow and bulge as its firmness

was forced out of her brassiere. The naked tit gleamed whitely in the

room---its nipple taut and dark ... inviting. All around the room, all

around her, people were writhing in sexual abandonment and undressing.

Kim's breath was hot and heavy as she turned her glazed eyes back on

the platform, permitting Klaus to pull her own breast up so that her

pink, bud-like nipple was out of her brassiere but not out of the

dress. Slowly, his fingers slid across her warm, sweaty cleavage and

began probing for her other breast.

The flame-haired young wife let him fondle her, raising her passion and

frustration as she watched the wantonly obscene tableau up on the

platform. It was as if the three nakedly writhing performers had

utterly no inhibitions or feeling of self-consciousness; in fact, it

seemed they were enjoying being watched, that they enjoyed sexually

exciting and frustrating the passive on-lookers. Kim sensed that part

of their excitement, part of their depravity came from the fact that

they did things---sexual things---in front of strangers. She tried to

imagine herself getting up in this room, in front of strangers, naked

and lewd. In her mind, she flashed back to the night she stood naked in

the bathroom on front of a mirror and excitedly looked at the bruises

and scratched on her body before finger fucking herself to orgasm.

Kim continued panting as Klaus felt for the nipples on her other breast

and the girl on the platform, the girl with the black boots and huge

breasts, broke away from the man. The slender lesbian who had been

behind her had stood up and to one side. The girl in her boots, oiled,

sweating, fell nakedly back on her haunches, heaving with passion and

fighting for her breath, putting her arms out behind her, supporting

herself as her heavy breasts jiggled lewdly. She looked up at the man

who crouched over her and then set her head fall back to see the slim

girl standing to one side.

Kim gasped then groaned aloud, forgetting herself, as the lesbian

dancer bent over, kissing the other girl with an open mouth while one

hand dropped to her cunt. The girl in the boots, still on her knees and

leaning back, locked her hungry mouth on the lesbian's and let her

tongue dart in while she spread her thighs as far as her kneeling

position would allow. Kim felt she had to squirm as she watched the

lesbian's knowledgeable fingers begin sawing in and out of the kneeling

girl's wetly parted pussy.

Kim knew about lesbians, had heard about them in school but never had

met one or knew she was meeting one. It was the most depraved scene she

had ever watched as the man stood watching, stroking his slippery,

hotly glistening cock as he watched and the slim girl bent over the

other girl, kissing her in a wanton way while caressing her in a most

obscene way. And the girl with the boots responded, writhing in

complete abandonment, her breasts oiled and gleaming as they jiggled,

her body supple and rubbery as she convulsed and rivulets of sweat

snaked across her belly-dancer stomach. Kim felt faint when she

realized the full brazenness of their act as the slim girl suddenly

straightened and, just like she was mounting a horse, she held the

booted girl's head in her hands and swung one leg over her face. She

lifted one leg slowly, exposing her open cunt with its pinkly fluted

vaginal lips. The girl's face was buried in the lesbian's crotch when

the dancer---her legs spread wide and slightly bent at the knees---

began wiggling her tight, little-boy buttocks back in invitation at the

man. Her proud ass cheeks spread wide and her anus was tight and brown

in the center of her deep crevice.

The impact of it on Kim was almost more than she could take. She gaped

as Klaus pulled her breasts---both of them---free from her brassiere

and pinched the taut, hard nipples into a goose-bumped expectancy. She

gaped with her mouth open as the two girls on the stage began an

obscene movement. The lesbian held her friend's head tight to her hair-

lined vaginal slit while her hips ground and rotated her cunt against

the girl's face. And, judging from the expression of wild, lewd

pleasure on the lesbian's face, the girl was obliging by using her

mouth and tongue.

Klaus put his free hand on Kim's bare knee and squeezed it, feeling hot

and sweaty. His hand suddenly swept up her thigh, pushing her dress up.

"Just petting," she tried to tell herself as she sank further back,

even further on the couch and crossed her legs again and squeezed ...

seeking relief for her hopelessly aroused clitoris. She ground her

buttocks down into a corner of the cushion, forcing the sewn edging up

into her panties, into the open lips of her heatedly pulsating pussy.

Klaus let his hand slide all the way up her dress until it was cupped

on her perspiration-streaked stomach. Kim tried to catch her breath,

inhaling deeply and swelling her breasts that now jutted out further

than ever due to the brassiere being pushed and peeled down beneath

them. Klaus's fingernails nipped at the nipple of her breast and she

jumped, sitting more erect thus permitting his probing fingers to dart

underneath her panties and wedge themselves downward to nestle in her

softly curling pubic hair.

Kim, her legs tensely crossed, told herself he couldn't go any further

even if he wanted to, and that there really wasn't anything much more

wrong with his hand probing at her vagina than there was with his hand

on her naked breasts. It was all petting! Besides ... it all felt

sooooo goooooddd! She groaned!

The scene on the platform, the three people on the mattress, was now

almost beyond belief. The man had been watching the two women writhing

like snakes in front of him, his great, eagerly jerking cock held tight

in one hand. At a signal from him, the girls reacted. The lesbian,

standing straddled over the booted girl, stepped away from her head,

bending further over and arching her back, her legs spread wide so that

her swollen cuntal lips were visible to the audience .

Quickly, the man stepped forward between the lesbian's legs and guided

his thick white shaft into her wetly waiting cunt! He slowly pushed,

and his blood-filled purple head, spread her cunt until it seemed

surely to rip it. The booted girl, still kneeling, looked up to see the

man's cock a few inches above her face! She watched as the massive,

blue-veined pole of flesh sawed in and out of the warmly lubricated

vagina. There was a look of awe and wanton delight in her eyes. She

bent her head back and reached up with her face, her wet little tongue

out and flicking over the lesbian's gleaming clitoris and the underside

of his plunging cock.

Kim felt, for one wild abandoned moment, that she was gong to cum, that

she would have an orgasm right there in front of everyone. It was such

a wild obscene fucking that was going on in front of her while Klaus

was fondling and exciting her to the point of insanity. She watched the

man fucking the lesbian girl from behind, holding onto her slippery

hips as best he could. Kim could see the thick long stalk of the cock

glistening with oil and cunt-juice as it slowly pistoned in and out of

the moistly clasping pussy; that combined with the lascivious sight of

the booted girl crouched underneath licking both their genitals made

the young wife think she was about to cum and pass out.

But abruptly Kim went beyond orgasm, into a kind of sexual-overdrive

and found herself hot and horny. She was shamelessly aroused as she

rubbed her thighs together and felt the hotly exciting movement of her

moistly heated vaginal lips on the rough edge of the cushion. Her cunt-

moisture had dampened the tight band of her panties and only served to

arouse her all the more.

Everything seemed to excite her. She craned her neck to see past Klaus

and saw Nichole sprawled obscenely with her legs spread wide-apart ...

and her panties pulled down to her thighs ... and Ernie's big hand

ravaging her open cunt. Nichole's teeth were tightly gritted and her

scarlet mouth open as she ground her pelvis up in rhythm to Ernie's

finger fucking. Ernie has pulled both of her big fleshy breasts free of

her brassiere and dress, and they bulged in front of her face so that

she had to stare down her cleavage in order to see the orgy going on in

front of her.

"Orgy" was the only word for it. People all over the room were losing

their inhibitions and were naked and writhing as they watched the stage

show and other couples alongside them.

Kim didn't think she would ever see anything more depraved and wanton

and ... arousing ... than what she was at that moment watching. But she

was wrong. At a signal from the man, he pulled his cock free from the

lesbian's wetly clasping cunt with a sucking sound, and bent his knees

a little more to slide his long, hotly glistening hard cock back into

the kneeling booted girl's mouth and began fucking her, his hips

banging against the lesbian's buttocks.

Then, as Kim's eyelids fluttered and her creamy, lust-fired cunt

quivered in a compulsive spasm, she watched the man pull his rigidly

erect cock with its purple flanged head all shiny, out of the booted

girl's mouth and plunge it back into the hotly lubricated cunt of the

lesbian! Then, as lust-filled groans and moans came from all around the

room, Kim heard herself moan and feel faint from lust and, at the same

instant, felt her body go lax, felt her loins relax and felt Klaus's

lingers dart finally home to the wetly swollen and tortured lips of her

cunt. The hopelessly aroused young wife stared at the platform and

continued to moan as she watched the man alternate his rock-hard cock

between the waiting cunt and the willing mouth. First one, then the

other, dipping and bending, pulling his cock from lips that pouted out

and fought to keep it, plunging into the waiting cunt of the lesbian

and burying itself, rolling the hair-lined fluted edges of her vagina

in with each mighty thrust. Kim could see the pink moist walls of the

cunt clinging, rolling outward as he withdrew, doing their best to hold

onto his mushroom head despite the delicious lubrication.

The room was an uproar now as people were weaving to their feet, moving

and pawing about. Naked men and women were crawling up on the platform

and sprawling on the mattresses to join the show. Within seconds, the

performers had lost their balance and toppled over among nakedly

writhing bodies that came up on the stage.

Madness reigned. It was like the last wild orgy at the end of the

decadent Roman empire. The rich had gathered for one last obscene orgy

before the fall of Rome, before the vandals sacked the city. There was

no point in not joining in. Only it wasn't ancient Rome, it was modern

San Francisco at its most sinful and obscene. It was the modern Romans,

the modern gladiators, the jet-set, the beautiful people, the

privileged, the pleasure-bent, who were operating now, and they went at

it with a sensuous freedom and abandon even the ancient Romans would

have been awed by. Although none of them would admit it, there was

always the idea that The Bomb, The Big One, could drop and, in a

twinkling, it would all be over.

Many things entered into it. The new freedom, the sexual revolution,

that sense that pleasures were first to be tasted in order to be

understood, that feeling of not wanting to miss out on anything.

Nichole was up, somewhat unsteady, on her feet and pulling her dress

off over her head and flinging it on the couch. Her brassiere followed

and then she peeled off her rolled down bikini panties to stand naked

in a black garter belt and sheer black stockings and high heels. She

looked so wildly beautiful, her glassy eyes unfocused, her expression

so lewdly inviting

Ernie was up and frantically ripping his clothes off. Klaus turned to

Kim, his face so close to hers that she could feel his hot breath on

her cheek. His finger was slowly worming itself into her moistly heated

cunt and, no matter how hard she contracted her vaginal muscles, it was

slipping relentlessly in, helped, no end, by her excitement and

lubrication. She groaned out loud as his other hand continued to fondle

her sensitively full breasts and her head thrashed back and forth as

Klaus hissed, "Come on! You can't stop now! You can't be a cock-tease!"

The words burned in her mind like acid on metal. Her mind was full of

every filthy word she had ever heard: fuck, cunt, cock, asshole!

Her mind reeled as Klaus was handling her, getting her up and pulling

her dress off one shoulder. He was over her now and she saw the huge

throbbing bulge in his pants. "No! No!" she cried, begging, "No, I

can't!"

"Vhat do you mean? Nien? No? Vhat are you saying?"

His voice was so menacing, his manner so cold and Prussian and

threatening that she knew she couldn't say "no." He would hit her, and

she wouldn't blame him. Hank was in her thoughts, and she wanted to

stop for his sake and to show what a good woman she was. But ...

inside, she didn't want to stop! "No!" she whispered, then gave he to

her words by relaxing. Nichole and Ernie had left the couch, nakedly

threading their way toward the platform that was a mass of wantonly

writhing, fucking bodies. Ernie's erection stood out in front of him

like a huge hammer handle! Kim shuddered, wondering if Klaus was built

like that! "No," she said, turning to Klaus, "N ... not here!"

Klaus grinned down at her savagely. "So? You like to vatch, but you

don't wish to be seen. Is that it?"

"Yes! Not here, I can't!"

"Very well." He took her hand in an iron grip and pulled her to her

feet, leading her, weaving through the heaps of discarded clothing. Kim

gasped once and recoiled when a hand reached out and tightly gripped

her buttocks. She looked down and, in the darkness, saw a man nakedly

lying on his back on a couch. His expression was depraved as he

caressed the softly fleshed globes of her ass, his hand up under her

silken dress. A young blonde with big breasts and rather broad

shoulders was lying on top of him, her nakedly gleaming buttocks and

legs spread wide over the man's body. His wetly glistening cock was in

her cunt and, as Kim gaped, her buttocks slowly pumped up and down on

the thick staff. The blonde grinned up, watching her partner fondle

Kim's trembling buttocks.

"Join us?" the girl asked in a husky voice.

"Hmmmmm, I could take on two of you," the man murmured. Klaus laughed

and pulled Kim away as she watched the two nakedly writhe in their

sexual coupling. The young housewife actually looked disappointed that

she wasn't joining them.

Klaus led the way around the stage platform that was now an

unbelievable scene of mass orgy. Nichole was nakedly standing on the

mattress, having kicked her high heels off, her hands above her head.

Hands, many hands---male and female alike---were caressing, fondling,

massaging her lush young body. So many hands that Kim couldn't count

them all as they slid and fondled and probed all over Nichole's body

before pulling her down into their hot writhing mass.

Kim's mind was reeling as she stumbled after Klaus. She had virtually

committed herself to committing adultery with Klaus. She didn't even

know his last name! How was she going to get out of it?

Klaus led her out of the big room, and it was as if she had a whiff of

fresh air. He led her into a quiet little room with plush red walls and

an oversized bed. One wall had a black drape over it. Klaus closed the

door and dimmed the lights then pressed another button on the lighting

panel. There was a click and a muffled whirr, and the black drape was

pulled aside, revealing a floor to ceiling window and a view of the

platform where the wildly wanton orgy was going on!

Kim gasped and stepped back.

"Don't vorry," Klaus assured. "It is a one-way mirror. On the other

side, all they see is their own delightful image reflected back. Ve are

very private and ve can vatch!"

Kim sank onto the edge of the bed, her eyes locked on the scene going

on in the other room. She saw Nichole sandwiched between two men---

strangers---madly undulating her sensual young body, stockings half-

ripped from her. What she was seeing had to be a dream---a drugged

dream---it couldn't be true---it was too wanton---too lewd! Surely,

Nichole wasn't like that.

Yet there she was before her eyes, and there was Ernie and all sorts of

others. There was a naked young girl about seventeen kneeling between

two men, a penis in either hand, sucking first one cock and then the

next. There were two beautiful young girls in a sixty nine position,

their redly quivering little tongues curling into each other's

violently trembling cunts, their expressions completely wanton, their

hips pumping in unison. Another girl straddled a prone man and pumped

up and down, her wetly gaping cunt sliding up and down his penis while

she eagerly sucked the long white cock of another man standing next to

her as he fondled another girl's breasts with both hands and had his

tongue buried in a third woman's wide-stretched pussy.

It was a wildly writhing, mad scene Kim was watching, like something

out of the erotic version of The Arabian Nights. With a slow dawning,

she realized that this was her wish, this was the orgy she had wanted

to participate in. Except for Nichole, Kim didn't really know anyone

present. Except for their names, she knew little of Klaus and Ernie.

She need never see any of these people, including Nichole, ever again

in her life. This was her one big chance. Hank dimmed in her memory as

she saw the wantonly writhing figures in front of her. And suddenly she

wanted to take part---to fuck and be fucked.

"You like that?" Klaus was sitting behind her, his lips to her ear,

whispering, while his hands slid around her waist and up to her

breasts, cupping them, feeling them all soft and rubbery under the

dress.

Looking at the mass scene in front of her, it seemed natural to say,

"Yes!" and let him paw her. He slowly pushed her down on the bed until

she was lying on her stomach, panting, watching the salacious scene on

the other side of the mirror. He had her flat on her stomach with her

legs hanging over the side of the bed. She let her knees touch the

floor, and she half-knelt, half-lay on the bed, her fleshy buttocks

firmly rounded and stuck out, with Klaus lifting her dress and

inspecting her creamy, perfectly formed ass under her little white

panties.

Her too-tight panties cut into the anal crevice and vanished under her

flesh, more or less exposing her twin ass cheeks. Klaus looked at them,

muttering in German as he gently caressed her warm flesh. Kim could

feel him kneeling behind her now and leaning his weight over her. Her

own torso, under him, began swaying in rhythm to the wild scene she

viewed with glassy eyes. The young housewife watched Nichole getting

savagely fucked by a total stranger and she began pumping her hips in

time to the brunette's.

Klaus stretched out over her and his arms wedged themselves between the

bed and her body; he massaged and cupped her breasts while she rested

some of her weight on her elbows, lifting herself slightly and giving

him greater freedom as she squirmed her buttocks back, hard against his

loins. She could feel a long, hard stiffness there swelling under his

pants, and when he jerked eagerly forward, she could feel the full

thickness of it pressing through her flimsy panties and into the

crevice of her buttocks. The thin folds of the bunched nylon material

grated against her tiny, sensitive anus sending small warning spasms of

lewd pleasure rippling up her belly to the rising nipples of her

breasts.

Sure of himself now, Klaus unzipped her dress down to her buttocks. His

hands slipped into the opening from behind, curling around her bare

mid-section and rising to push the tight restricting brassiere up and

away from her ripely swollen breasts. His bands cupped the resilient

mounds greedily as they came free, trapping the hardened, sensitive

nipples between thumb and forefinger; squeezing until a tiny

excruciating sensation brought a gasp of surprised pleasure from the

drugged housewife's open lips. He pushed forward with his pelvis

sinking his still covered hardness deeper into the split of her

involuntarily contracting buttocks. On the other side of the mirror,

she saw a girl, her young face twisted in rapture, getting her nipples

sucked by two men.

Kim's breath came in obscene gasps and the muscles in her ripely lush

body were as taut as bow-strings as she reacted involuntarily to the

maddening fondling of Klaus's hands on her sensitive flesh. She jerked

and jumped as one of his tormenting warm hands left her breast to trail

a slow teasing path down the soft unresisting belly and insert itself

into the elastic waistband of her panties where it teased thrillingly

at the pubic hair raising from the "vee" of her pussy. It played there

for a moment then suddenly curled down into the moistly ready hot slit

up between her legs, the nail scraping gently at the tiny bud of her

clitoris, sending it springing into quivering life. Kim jerked forward

slightly as the hand curled further under her cuntal crevice, parting

the softly hot lips of her vagina to teasingly snake its way inside the

tight little opening of her cunt, sending wild electric shocks of

pleasure stabbing through her.

The rigid hugeness of his cock confined under his trousers was now

pressed in the deep, sweat-moistened crevice of her ass; it was

heatedly throbbing as though it had a life of its own. Involuntarily,

she ground back against it, imprisoned licentiously between it and the

outstretched finger worming ever deeper in her hungrily twitching

vagina.

Klaus began a gentle rocking motion to which her own body responded in

time to the bobbing head of Nichole out there on the other side of the

mirror. Nichole was in the middle of a huge orgy as she sucked a man's

long hard cock while one woman caressed her breasts and the other had

her head buried between the sensual brunette's legs. Nichole had been

fucked, and the man had turned to some other pleasure. Nichole took a

massively pulsating penis that was offered in front of her face and

never even looked at the man. Klaus and Kim were both looking at the

pert brunette and rocking in time to the bobbing of her head out there

when the German said, "Bend more and spread your legs. I'm going to

fuck you from behind."

"Oh, God, no!" Kim panted between tightly clenched teeth, unable to

stop the rocking of her shamelessly aroused body back against his hand.

"I fuck you good and you can vatch at the same time," he whispered in

her ear. The lewd words excited her strangely through the drugged

hashish haze, and the young red-headed wife groaned in surrender as he

pushed her upper body forward over the bed. Her muscles were like

rubber and she almost fell, resting on her elbows some more, her face

only inches from the mirror.

Her ripely full buttocks wavered in the air behind her, and she

shuddered as she felt the German's hands lift her dress above her hips,

bunching it around her wasp-like waist and drawing her thin white nylon

panties down over the fun, fleshy, rounded white cheeks of her ass,

leaving her panties to hang at her knees. A cool rush of air hit her

backside and she suddenly flushed in shame. Her whole rear end was

nakedly exposed to him, waving back in a lewd invitation to any

humiliation he might want to inflict on her. A last fleeting thought of

Hank flickered through her conscience as she heard the metallic zip of

a zipper behind her as Klaus opened his fly and his long thick cock

burst into welcome freedom. There was no time for further thought.

She heard him drop heavily to his knees behind her straining buttocks;

then he bent over and his hot, torturing tongue licked lasciviously and

moistly down the entire length of her sweating anal crevice before he

abruptly stopped and flicked the tip of his tongue into the tightly

puckered little ring of her anus

"God! Oh. GOD!" she moaned as the tantalizing licking of his tongue

invaded her tortured loins, teasing her like some demon from another

world. She quivered back against it, screwing her buttocks in small

circles around and around to feel deliciously its complete rape of her

helplessly exposed anus. There was nothing in the world like this

feeling. She had never known it before: it was different it was wicked,

it consumed the whole of her being and there was nothing else in the

universe now but the hotly lashing tongue licking at her from behind.

Wild thoughts of joining the orgy ran through her mind once more as she

watched two men fucking a sixteen year-old blonde in the cunt and mouth

at the same time. She reveled in the lewd tingling joy until she

thought suddenly her whole body was going to explode in a thousand

fragments.

Klaus stopped just in time. He slithered his tongue up the moist

crevice again, over her back and to the base of her spine, following

the bony ridges up her back until this progress was halted by the

flimsy dress bunched around her narrow waist.

He shifted behind her, and Kim suddenly quivered in fear as she felt

the hugeness of the lust-swollen head of his penis press into the split

between her wide-spread buttocks.

Oh, God, he's too big! The thought raced through her suddenly fear-

filled mind. He's bigger than the first man up on the platform, he's

even bigger than Ernie! He'll split me open!!

Her tightly clenched buttocks involuntarily cringed forward, drawing

away from the rubbery tipped cock pressing into her from behind, but it

followed like a long shadow. Her forehead was pressed tightly against

the mirror. There was nowhere else to go! Her nakedly cringing body was

trapped between the glass and the searching fleshy monster behind her.

She gaped at the reflection in the mirror---a reflection of a girl with

lovely breasts who stood on the mattress and wantonly gazed right back

at her. Only she was looking at her reflection, at her own nakedly

voluptuous body, and caressing her own magnificent breasts as her hand

wandered down to her crotch in search of her cunt. It was obvious that

the reflection was going to excite herself and watch while she did it.

She looked right at him as she slowly. tantalizingly, finger-fucked her

pussy.

Behind her, Klaus was going to impale her! He was going to split her!

She felt his hands close around the tops of her firmly fleshed thighs,

gripping them tightly, his fingers digging harshly into her soft white

flesh.

"Reach behind ... put ... it ... in!" he panted.

"Oh, no, no, please, I can't," the heatedly aroused young wife

whimpered. "I can't! It'd hurt too much!"

"You vill put it in!" the German commanded again, digging his fingers

tighter into her flesh.

"Ooooohhhhh," Kim groaned as she felt the flesh of her thighs being

squeezed into painful tight balls. She couldn't stand it. In

desperation, she reached back between her legs and closed her hand over

his elongated penis. It was enormous! Far bigger than she had imagined!

She could never take it all!

He squeezed against her again, this time bringing a louder sound of

pain from her contorted lips. She tearfully placed the blunt, cruelly

throbbing head against the tight little elastic opening of her vagina,

and bit down hard on her lower lip to hold back the tears of fright

that were beginning to brim in her eyes. She felt the big German's

massive penis move like some prehistoric monster, like some ancient

primitive battering ram, prodding and working against her wetly open

cuntal lips, parting them and forcing its way inside the tight

restricting ring of flesh that jealously guarded the entrance to her

secret passage. There was a great stretching feeling in her young loins

as though the tenderly fleshed lips of her vagina were being pulled

asunder---then suddenly she felt her thighs swept apart, and Klaus's

long thick cock slithered into her hotly throbbing passage like the

trunk of a tree. The heavy weight of his impatient loins crashed hard

against her buttocks, pushing her face brutally against the mirror.

"Aaaaaggghhhh!" she strangled through clenched teeth. Her tightly

stretched vaginal passage felt as if it were on fire. Klaus's huge,

hotly throbbing penis felt like a great drill tunneling deep into her

belly. Kim struggled and swung her firm young buttocks in vain to

escape the cruel impalement, but it was no use! Klaus had skewered into

her up to the hilt, and she was a hopeless prisoner, stuck on the end

of his rock-hard cock like a skewered piece of barbecue meat. Kim's

mouth opened and closed silently while her wetly glistening mouth

twisted in torment. Her cuntal walls were afire from the unaccustomed

size of the monstrous instrument imbedded in her belly. It felt as

though it had penetrated all the way to her breasts. She moaned against

the minor, small circles of fog arising from the heat of her breath.

Through the daze of her pain, she saw Nichole sprawled lewdly on the

other side of the minor and clasping hungrily the growing white penis

savagely sawing in and out of her ovaled young mouth. Again, it was a

stranger who was fucking the brunette; or, at least, a stranger to Kim!

The thin elastic rim of Nichole's lips clung to the cock as though held

there by unseen fingers. The man grinned lewdly above her as he wildly

fucked into her wet mouth and watched Nichole's lust-contorted face

suck and lick at his bloated cock like a child devouring an all-day

sucker. Nichole had both hands free now and had placed them behind the

man's swaying buttocks, one cheek in each hand, and was pulling them

frantically to her. Kim could see the white seminal fluid dripping from

the corners of her friend's mouth and running in tiny rivulets down her

hollowing cheeks. Nichole seemed to revel in the cruel humiliation she

was being subjected to---a masochistic light shining strangely in her

sex-glazed eyes.

Behind her, gasping and panting with delight, Klaus began to rock

rhythmically and gently in and out of the soft confines of the

shamelessly aroused housewife's vagina. Gradually, the pain eased and

Kim, too, began to feel a strange masochistic pleasure ripple through

her. Watching Nichole voraciously sucking on a stranger's thick cock,

coupled with the ravishment of her own little cunt by this brutal

German was sending unfamiliar thrills of wicked pleasure coursing

through her entire being. She began to undulate her supple young

buttocks lasciviously in circles in rhythm to the thick, heatedly

pulsating cock fucking into her wide-stretched cunt from behind.

"Oh, God," she breathed suddenly back over her shoulder, "I like it, I

like it, go on, go on!"

Kneeling over her nakedly bent young body, Klaus gritted his teeth and

fucked in and out with long hard lunges that seemed to receive their

momentum from his whole being. A feeling of absolute power rippled

through him as he held the red-haired housewife's voluptuous hips down

in total subjection to the rock-hard cock skewering relentlessly into

her. He could feel the soft fleshy ridges deep up inside her womb

giving way before the merciless onslaught of his piston-like cock.

His fingers gripped her harder, squeezing the soft, unresisting thighs

with sadistic strength, deliberately hurting her, squeezing groans from

her tortured throat as she struggled helplessly beneath his mastery of

her mind and body.

He stretched the quivering moons of her softly fleshed warm buttocks

wide with his thumbs, watching as the pink folds of her wetly

glistening pussy flesh clung tightly around his rampant prick. He

levered forward suddenly, leaning his weight and plunging the long,

massively throbbing shaft the last remaining inch. He could feel the

fleshy resistance deep inside her wetly clasping cunt spread before the

blood engorged bead of his cock, bringing a soft explosive sound from

her lips as though the wind had been knocked from her. He sensed that

she had never been fucked this deeply before, and he jerked the lust-

swollen head around deep inside, enlarging the vaginal end of her

channel and feeling its myriad of velvet muscles gripping his rigidity

like a warm glove. The soft enveloping tightness wrought a tingle of

delight shooting through his balls. His prick, encased as it was in the

shamelessly aroused wife's warmly clasping sheath, pulsated with lewd

pleasure.

Kim's eyes opened and closed in a lost glaze of passion. She spread her

wildly quivering thighs wider, moving her feet apart with difficulty

because of the flimsy white panties still hanging at her knees. She

lowered her buttocks, forcing Klaus behind her to alter his position

and follow her madly grinding buttocks to a shallow level. She could

feel with obscene delight the cool metal of his zipper pressed

painfully tight into the cheeks of her buttocks as he rammed deep

inside her and could feel the rough material of his pants pressed

harshly against the backs of her trembling young thighs. Topping off

the erotic sensations, the bushy pubic hair around the base of his

massive prick brushed tantalizingly against the soft inner edges of her

ass ... scraping like wildly sensual sandpaper.

She dropped from her elbows to the mattress so that her breasts were

squashed tightly against it, and she began to slowly rotate her upper

torso. The hard surface of the bed stung her tiny, pinkly taut nipples

into a greater hardness as she felt the hotly throbbing cock behind her

embedded in its full thick length inside her. The distended spongy head

grazed against the sensitive flatness of her cervix, probing deep, deep

down where no one ever had before.

Forgotten was the humiliation of bending like a slave while a stranger

fucked her from behind, venting his lust in her delighted vagina,

forgotten were the ruined panties hanging at her knees---a lowered flag

of her surrender---panties she had bought to wear for her husband on

their honeymoon. All that mattered now was the obscene pleasure

coursing through her wantonly aroused young body like a fire out of

control. She wanted, needed, to be fucked like this. She wanted to be

subjected to any lewd demands placed on her pleasure wracked body.

"Up," Klaus was suddenly saying, panting, "Up on the bed."

Kim tried to crawl up on the bed with his cock still buried in her from

behind and failed, falling flat. "I ... I can't!"

She could feel his sucking withdrawal between her legs and the cool

rush of air on her tortured loins suddenly freed from the weight of his

body. She moaned in relief, but it was only temporary---the pain that

had existed before was being replaced by a different pain---that of

unsatisfied desire. The wild ache that had filled her while watching

Nichole being skewered from behind returned at the same time, only in

greater force. Her young body mindlessly followed the dictates of the

big German's hands as they coursed over her, removing her clothing.

The remains of her torn panties were pulled hurriedly from her slender

tapered calves. She rolled over quickly to allow the dress to be

removed over her head. And she heard through the haze of the hashish

cigarette, its soft rustle as it was thrown hurriedly on the floor.

Magic hands snatched the brassiere away and she could feel a cool rush

of air over her whole body now as her large fleshy orbs were freed from

their nylon-strap prison. There was nothing else left---she was totally

naked except for her black, high-heeled pumps---her sensually quivering

white nudity with her contrasting flaming red pussy hair and black high

heels was completely at Klaus's mercy.

In the distance, she could hear the hurried rustle of clothing being

stripped from the German's body as she trembled nakedly, half in fear

and half in impatience. Then ... a slight movement of the bed ... hot

hands searching over her ... pulling her thighs apart ... wide apart

... the mattress sagging slightly from a weight crawling up between her

spread legs ... urgent fingers parting the wetly eager lips of her

throbbing young cent ... and suddenly ... suddenly, the blunt stab of a

fiery pole of flesh!

"Aaaaggghhhh!" It was a shriek of pain---a cry of exaltation!

Her naked young body writhed and twitched uncontrollably as she groaned

in abandoned welcome to the punishing cock sinking deep into her wildly

rejoicing cont. Her face distorted with passion, little bird-like cries

of ecstasy escaped her tightly-clenched teeth

"O---Oh God!" she gasped as Klaus's hands slipped under the full

rounded moons of her buttocks, raising them while, at the same time, he

strained his cock forward into her with all the strength of his hips

and thighs. She was moaning incoherently now and wound her smooth long

legs tightly around his naked hips as he thrust into her. The smooth

velvet folds of her vagina held him, squeezing tightly around his rigid

fleshy column, until she could feel every corrugation on his rigidly

pulsating cock. This was madness the helplessly aroused young wife had

never known---a total surrender to the lure of the flesh. Her drugged

young mind reveled in her wickedness as she wantonly screwed her

buttocks up tight against his pelvis until she could feel his sperm-

laden balls pressed warmly into the wet, wide-stretched crevice below

her vagina; his testicles danced teasingly against the sensitive outer

rings of her tightly puckered little anus sending shivers of lewd

delight surging through her fluttering nerve ends.

There was nothing else in me world; no tomorrow, no Hank, no better

person to be, nothing but this deep dark hole of lust and flesh, of

belly smacking against naked belly ... of cunt against cock.

"Ooooohhhh yes, yes, fuck it hard, daring, fuck it hard! Give it to

meeeeeeee!!!" she begged, gasping. She was already approaching an

orgasm and her body had become something animal, no longer human, as

she twisted, writhed, and contorted, spreading her wantonly trembling

legs wide apart and then pulling them up to her shoulders, bending them

at the knees, spurring him on like a wild stallion with the heed of her

shoes serving as rowels a digging his hard-muscled buttocks.

Kim saw a flash of light as the lamps in the room flicked on and

clenched her eyes tightly to block it out. Through the haze of hashish

and passion she was vaguely aware of someone entering the room, but

nothing mattered anymore except that beautifully hard cock ramming into

her from above.

"Goddamn," she heard a voice like Ernie's say, "Look at Miss Frigid

go."

"I told you to be patient, dear, the hashish and the orgy brought her

around just like I said it would. Think you'd like some of that pussy?"

It was Nichole and her voice was triumphant.

"Man, is she ever tender! If Klaus doesn't fuck her to death, I will.

Let's call in some of the others. We shouldn't leave our hosts out of

something this good.'

"That's fine with me. I want to see her get screwed within an inch of

her life. I want to see her get screwed all night. I'm doing her a

favor."

The voice had been Nichole's and now she heard other voices, voices of

derision and admiration. She opened her eyes a slit. There were men,

naked men, lining up by the bed with erect cocks in their hands. There

was Nichole taking pictures of her fucking her head off with Klaus.

Kim shut her eyes, a look of lewd ecstasy moving over her face. Let

them! Let them all fuck her! And let them take pictures of her! Let

them do every obscene and lewd thing they wanted to do to her. She

closed her eyes tight in masochistic rapture: it was going to be a long

night, and she was going to fuck them all.

And, God! How happy she was! She would never see any of them again ...

she could do anything she wanted.

And she wanted to do everything!

Chapter 7

Of course, after every night, comes a dawn. After every evening of

romance, comes the cold gray morning light to cast a different look

upon everything. Even an orgy knows its limits. There comes a time when

the flesh is sated. Energy runs out, the muscles grow tired. Passion

may still be burning but the conscious mind gives out: all things must

rest.

Kim slept as if she bad been drugged. More, she slept like someone

stunned by exhaustion. An army could have marched over her bed, and she

wouldn't have noticed it. She slept through what remained of the night

after the last eager man had ravished her voluptuous young body. She

lost count of how many men fucked her, and she woke, late the next day,

to find herself alone with a few nakedly sleeping bodies scattered

around the room. A young blonde girl, also naked, was asleep in bed

with her, and Kim shuddered as a vague recollection came that they had

had sex together, and she wanted to weep that she had fallen so low

that she would commit any kind of perversion.

She had a ramming, champagne-hangover and couldn't think too clearly.

The hashish didn't help any, leaving her mind vague and unsure. She was

like a drug-user: befuddled and vague. What she could remember sent a

chill up and down her spine. Had she done everything she remembered? As

she groaned and raised herself on one elbow to look around, she knew

that she had done all that she remembered and probably more. And ...

Nichole had taken pictures!

She sat bolt upright, shivering. A man, on the floor, moaned and looked

up at her. With a groan, he rolled over on his back and exposed his

rapidly swelling penis. With gestures, he indicated he wanted Kim to

come down on the floor and suck his cock.

Kim shivered again and put her hand over her mouth to keep from

screaming and throwing up, from vomiting right there on the bed where

she had fucked men---strangers---on for hours on end. Her body ached as

if she had been in a six-day bicycle race. Her ravaged young vagina was

sore, the pain sharp and stinging now. To her growing horror, she

discovered a strange taste in her mouth, a taste she had never known

before. Was it male? Female?

With a wild whimper of fear, the bewildered young wife crawled out of

the bed and scurried across the floor, finding her torn panties and her

bunched up dress. She snapped on her brassiere and pulled the dress on

over her head. The panties were too torn and dampened to be much good.

She left them behind, fleeing the apartment with her eyes bloodshot and

her face a pasty white. She fled as if all the demons of hell were

after her at that moment.

Kim heaved a sigh of relief that almost ended in being a sob when she

saw that her purse was intact. At least, she told herself, near tears,

they weren't after her money! It seemed a bitter joke as she rode in a

taxi on the way to Nichole's apartment. She didn't even know where

Nichole was at that moment, and she didn't really care; all she hoped

was that her betraying brunette friend wasn't in the apartment.

No one was at Nichole's, and Kim got her things and left the key on the

foyer table before taking a cab to the airport. By the time the sun was

setting over the Pacific ocean, Kim was unlocking the door to their

cottage in Carmel. Once the door was closed and locked, she leaned

against it and tears, so long suppressed, welled up. The deeply ashamed

young wife held her face in her hands and sobbed.

She felt so degraded, so humiliated! But what made it even worse, she

knew she had loved it! Where were her great plans now? How could she

ever face Hank's parents and look them in the eye? Perhaps they were

right, perhaps she wasn't good enough for them; perhaps they were right

... perhaps she wasn't good enough for even Hank!

Kim sank to her knees by the door, sobbing, crushed by the terrible

truth she was discovering about herself. After all, even though she was

drugged and drank a lot, even though Klaus did force her to a certain

degree, she had liked it! Liked it? She had loved it! She had loved

every depraved minute of it! By the time the others came into the room,

by the time Nichole had taken the pictures---her head snapped up.

Nichole had taken pictures! Why? Maybe the whole thing had been a plot,

a plan, a trick, to deceive her and to blackmail her!

She got to her feet, wiping her eyes and thinking as hard as she could.

Why? Why had Nichole taken pictures of her and made the comments that

she had? She shook her head and felt a cold queasy fear growing in the

pit of her stomach. In fact, she felt herself growing increasingly sick

to her stomach as she thought of all that had happened. She thought of

all the filthy things she had done and of the pictures as evidence---

irrefutable---of her depravity and humiliation.

Fear grew in her and she started imagining all sorts of possibilities.

The more she thought, the more frightened she became. Nichole could be

in with a bunch of white-slavers! She could find herself drugged and

shipped off to a life of prostitution and depravity. The frightened

young wife went around checking the locks and the windows and trying to

remember where the gun was that Hank had left behind with instructions

on how to use it. She had never liked guns and hadn't really listened

to her husband, thinking she would never have occasion to use it. Now

she kicked herself, and couldn't even remember where in the bedroom she

had hidden it.

Kim's basic character finally pulled her through. She went from deep

paranoiac fear to a kind of sensibility. Of course Nichole wasn't mixed

up with white slavery. She admitted to herself that she didn't know why

the pictures were taken. There had to be a good reason. Time, she told

herself. Time would tell. Whatever her reason, she would have to see

Nichole once again and then she would find out just what it was that

was going on. When that time came, Kim resolved that she, herself,

would have to be firm. She would have to show Nichole that she wasn't

having any more of her life. Nichole could---and would---lead her own

life. Kim wouldn't judge her, but she wouldn't have anything to do with

her. When she did see her again---and she felt sure she would---she

would demand the pictures and negatives and tell her that their

relationship was at an end.

Kim's basic character came through. She set her house in order, took a

long hot shower during which she soaped herself all over as if she were

trying to wash her sins away, and, clean, warm, she got into bed and

slept the sleep of one who is mentally and physically exhausted.

Then she set about her daily routine. A walk on the beach in the

morning, going to the post office, a walk on the beach just before

dark, then an evening at home before a fire while she watched TV. Only,

she found things were different. It was almost as if she were a

different person now. She found it hard to write to Hank without

thinking of what had happened up in the city. Her walks, her whole day

was viewed from a different reality now. She had the terrible feeling

that things would never be the same again. And, that awful, insidious,

feeling of dread was growing again. It wasn't a feeling of being

watched---she had no urge to look over her shoulder.

If she had, if she had stopped on her walks and really looked around,

she would have seen two people sitting in a Mercedes-Benz and watching

her through powerful binoculars.

Nichole didn't know what Web was looking for. To her, everything was

set up. Why didn't he act? Sometimes, he reminded her of a cat toying

with a bird. He had to play with his victims before he finished them

off. He had played with her. He still played with her. She had done his

bidding, she had taken an old friend, someone who hadn't done anything

to her, she had taken an old friend and put her in a position where Web

could take advantage of her. It was all set ... so why didn't he

pounce?

Web lowered his glasses. It was as if he was reading her mind.

"Tonight, we pay your friend a visit."

"Good! I'll call her."

He sneered at her. "You'll do nothing of the kind. We have the element

of surprise on our side. Why dissipate it?"

* * *

The element of surprise worked well. When the knock came at the door,

Kim was in a housecoat right after a warm shower. She thought it was

the paper boy or a neighbor on some errand. When she opened the door

and saw Nichole standing with a very distinguished looking man in gray,

she didn't know what to think. She stood looking at them without saying

a word.

"Well," Nichole laughed, "may we come in or do we have to talk out here

on the street?"

"Come in." Kim stood aside, holding the door open.

"Kim, I want you to meet a friend of mine. This is Mr. Web Hardman."

Kim nodded coolly, not wanting him to think she was at all friendly

with Nichole.

Web was all suave manners. He took Kim's hand and said, "I've admired

you from afar for quite some time, Mrs. Steward."

Kim didn't know what to say and thus didn't say anything. She didn't

care if they thought her rude. She was not going to invite them to

stay.

"What do you say to an admirer?" Nichole asked, a taunt in her voice.

"Thank you," Kim was curt.

"I even admired your pictures," Web spoke in such a quiet voice that

for a second, Kim felt she had misunderstood. "I admired your pictures

very much. You have a lovely body."

The red haired housewife stood with an open mouth. She didn't know what

to say or think. Astounded, unbelieving, she turned and stared at

Nichole, only then comprehending. Nichole smiled weakly. "Why?" Kim

asked, "why are you doing this to me?"

"You'll find out," Nichole said with a glance at Hardman.

For the first time, Kim felt sorry for Nichole. It was a hell of a time

to feel sorry, but Nichole's look had told her so much. Instinctively,

she turned to Web Hardman, knowing now that he was the man behind the

entire thing. Her chin was defiant as she asked, "How much?"

Web looked puzzled.

"How much for the pictures and negatives? I ready don't have much

money."

"Money?" Web snorted and his cruel laughter rang through the cottage

and sent a chill up the spine of both the girls. "Money?" he asked,

deriding, "my dear girl, I've spent---and made---more money in one hour

than you'll probably see in your lifetime. Money? It isn't money that I

want."

It was as if her feeling of dread reached its climax at that moment; as

if she suddenly knew what it was she was fearing ... what she had

dreaded ad these days.

Web walked around her, looking at her voluptuous young body as if she

were a spirited racehorse he was about to buy. "If you want those

negatives, you will come to my house tomorrow evening. If you don't

come, the pictures will be spread all over town and most of California

by the following morning."

"And what do you expect me to do at your house?"

Web smiled. Nichole shuddered, knowing what the smile meant. "You win

entertain me."

"And if I refuse?"

"I've told you the consequences."

"I refuse," Kim was resolute. He had to be bluffing. Yet, he didn't

panic. He shrugged, touching the knot of his gray tie with manicured

fingers.

"Very well. By the way, I've been watching you for some time. I could

give you a list of the people you see."

Kim was puzzled by the way he changed the conversation.

"I notice you never visit your husband's parents."

Kim froze.

"They're almost neighbors of mine. Moreover," he went on, smiling,

smooth, "I notice they never seem to visit you."

For the first time, Kim lost her composure. She looked imploringly at

Nichole who offered no help.

"I wonder what they will say when they get a set of glossy eight-by-

tens of you in action? I wonder how they will react?"

"You ... you---filthy bastard!"

Web shook a finger like he was cautioning a child. "I've been called

worse names by experts. Nichole can tell you. She can also tell you

that each name you call me, each evidence of hostility on your part

will only end up costing you more. Right now, I'm willing to give you

the pictures in return for an evening of ... shall we say, fun? Any

more impudence or insult from you will cost you dearly."

Kim shook her head in disbelief. "You went to all these lengths? You're

crazy, you're in---"

She never got to finish her statement. Web's hand few through the air

almost too fast to follow. There was a loud crack, and Kim's head spun

and she saw stars as the pain sponged in deep. She staggered under the

impact of the blow, then staggered more under the impact of hate that

spat out from Web Hardman. "Don't you ever say that again!" His face

was livid as he shot the words out, his fists raised. "You'll pay for

that!" he screamed, "you'll pay for saying such a thing, my dear!"

Kim shrank back from him, truly afraid. Even Nichole moved nervously

aside.

He stalked to the door, glared at Nichole who followed him, swung the

door open, and looked back. "There will be a car here for you tomorrow

night at eight. You had better be in it. If not," his voice rose to a

malicious ringing quality, "a copy of those pictures will be on their

way to your husband. Another copy will go to his parents. A third set

will go to the Chief of Police here in Carmel."

The door slammed and Kim found herself alone again. She knew what was

happening. Now, instinctively, she understood a lot about poor Nichole.

And herself! She had to plan. She had until the following night to

plan.

Chapter 8

The car, a Mercedes, was right on time and the driver was none other

than Klaus! Kim turned a deep crimson when she saw him, but he was all

manners and made no allusion to their night in San Francisco.

They drove through the quiet streets of Carmel with Kim looking out the

window and. wondering what was in store for her. At the guarded gates

of Pebble Beach, the old guard in the toll house waved them on. They

drove past the stately mansions of Pebble Beach, passing Hank's

parents' house on their way. Kim wanted so much to stop the car, run

into their house and tell them she was in trouble. The car moved on,

past the Beach Club and past the Del Monte lodge itself where the rich

and famous came to play and vacation. At last they came to a tall fence

with barbed wire around the top. At an electronic signal, the gate

swung open and the car turned noiselessly in.

They drove down a tree-lined drive until they sighted the house. It was

a rich house, a sumptuous home, typical of the tasteful, elegant

edifices that dotted Pebble Beach. It was also isolated and, as Kim

noticed, the grounds were patrolled by uniformed men. Web Hardman

obviously was a wealthy man.

Inside the house, she was treated as if she were a visiting

personality. She was shown into an underground bar and "rumpus room"

that was the like of none she had ever seen before. At one end of the

big room was a raised platform with a jet-black curtain as a back drop.

At the moment she entered, Nichole was on the platform or stage with

her back to them, directing the placing of large mirrors. She turned, a

drink in her hand, when she heard them, and sad drunkenly, "Oh, Hi,

jus' in time for the lit ole party!"

One look was enough to tell Kim that the brunette was smashed. Well,

Nichole obviously wouldn't be any help tonight. She looked around,

wondering exactly what they were planning to do to her. Obviously, they

were going to try to get her up on that stage. As she watched, Klaus

and Ernie---Ernie still cynical and leering---carried a broad black

couch out on the stage and placed it in the center of the mirrors.

Web entered dressed in a smoking jacket and ascot tie, rubbing his

bands together. "How good of you to come, dear Kim. I can't tell you

how I've looked forward to your coming! Well, shall we begin?"

With those chill words, Kim was launched on the strangest experience of

her life. She smiled noncommittally at Web, determined to humor him,

not wanting him to get into a rage again.

"Up on the stage my dear," Web said, showing the way.

He helped the voluptuous red haired young wife up on the sage with an

assist from Ernie. Nichole stared at her and shrugged, making a face.

"Wish I was you," she said, slurring her words. "You're going to luv

it!"

"That will be all for you, Nichole, "Web said, seating himself front

row center and clapping his hands. "Wander off and drown yourself

someplace. It's time for my little diversion to begin! Where is Klaus?"

"Here," the German said with his Prussian accent, stepping out from

behind the curtain.

"Very well, begin." Web settled back in his chair as Nichole climbed

off the stage, almost losing her balance, and wandered drunkenly to the

rear where she stood at the bar and poured herself another drink. Web

touched a portable console at his side. The lights dimmed. "Begin."

"Not so fast." Kim's words stopped everyone. "Where are the pictures?

Where are the negatives?"

Web chortled. "Very good." He reached onto the floor next to his chair.

"Right here. They're yours if you should please me."

Ernie sauntered up to the young housewife. It seemed as if his cynical

grin was a permanent thing. He reached and hooked two fingers into the

"vee" of her dress. With a sudden expert tug he tore her dress down the

front.

What followed was a struggle that was all one sided. Klaus and Ernie

were too strong, experienced and fast for the blackmailed wife, and in

no time Kim found herself completely naked, her voluptuous young body

exposed with each of the men holding a wrist, holding her arms out

extended while she writhed and futilely struggled between them, her

huge, melon-like breasts jiggling and quivering in fright.

Kim tossed her thick mane of flame-colored hair and spat her defiance

at Web, forgetting her earlier resolve to placate him. "All right, I'll

do what you want, but I won't enjoy it!"

Web squirmed with delight in his chair. "Wonderful, my dear, just

wonderful. Go on, Ernie, Klaus."

They grabbed her and threw her down on the black couch where she landed

with an impact that shook her. She raised her chin to see two things:

herself in the mirror with Ernie holding her down on her belly, while

the giant Klaus stripped off her clothing ... and the fact that the bed

was tilted, affording Web a grandstand seat in the front row.

The bewildered young wife sprawled on it, her twin fleshy buttocks high

and white in invitation, her flaming red hair in strong contrast to the

black sheets.

"I get to fuck her in the ass!" Ernie growled as Klaus pounced on her

and held her down, while Ernie quickly stripped. "You got first dibs

last time!"

He shoved the German aside and seized Kim by the hips, forcing her

snowy, softly-fleshed buttocks wide apart. "God! Ever see anything as

luscious as that?" he asked as he began to taunt and probe her tiny,

tightly puckered little anus with his outstretched finger. "Hairless as

a new born babe's, and tighter than a cat's pussy!"

"Fuck her, Ernie!" Web said from the front row. His voice was high and

peculiar to Kim.

And then, in quivering dread, the helplessly captive young girl felt

hands opening her softly trembling ass cheeks, drawing the ripely full

buttocks apart even though Kim clenched the smooth ivory spheres and

tried to hold them together ... but it was useless. She felt lewdly

naked and unprotected beneath their lust-filled gazes and, as Ernie

pressured them further open, she could feel the cool air of the room

rush over her little tightly clenched anus. Tears suddenly wet her

cheeks as she realized what Web had in store for her, and she gasped as

she felt a fingernail tease at the tiny rubbery rectal opening. A sharp

abrupt pain followed with the lewd worming insertion of the thick,

outstretched finger up to the first knuckle joist. The muscles of her

buttocks jerked automatically, and her anal passage gripped defensively

at his finger like a closing fist.

Ernie, kneeling above her, grinned like a Siamese cat. "Look at that

little asshole grab, will ya?"

"Go on, go on." Web was standing next to the stage now, his voice high,

white, and breathy.

Ernie laughed lewdly and thrust his outstretched finger deeper into the

soft, rubbery channel ... all the way to the palm of his hand, causing

Kim to grunt painfully as he reamed in and out of her helplessly

exposed little anus, obscenely stretching the warm velvety passage in

preparation of the greater entry that was to follow.

Finally, in hopeless desperation, Kim relaxed in resignation and

surrender. She wished she could pass out ... or now, that they would

hurry and get it over with. But, she was fully conscious and, with the

light on on-stage, she could see all of their leering reflections in

the huge mirrors that had been positioned ... She lay flat on her

stomach, Ernie's naked legs lodged between hers, holding them wide

apart and exposing her naked loins to him. The captive young red-haired

woman couldn't help but gaze in wide-eyed horror at the mirror when she

saw Ernie pull the heavy foreskin of his uncircumcised penis back,

displaying the hardened, lust-bloated head, then point it directly at

the tiny puckered hole of her rectum he had so agonizingly stretched

and prepared with his probing finger.

Once more, he spread her fearfully trembling buttocks wide with his

hands, then rolled further onto her naked back to slowly press the huge

head of his cock down into her moistened vaginal lips. Kim shivered at

the contact, her muscles consciously tensing as he laid the full length

of the hardened shaft into the soft spread crevice of her ass, its

throbbing head poised to leap at her hotly throbbing anus. She felt it

then, felt it pushing excruciatingly against her anus, and she gaped

wild-eyed into the mirror to see the brutally stiffened cock suddenly

pop like a cork through her tightly resisting sphincter muscle.

"Oooooobhhhh, God! You're splitting me!" she moaned through tear-

streaked eyes.

"Don't worry, baby, it'll get better," Ernie hissed down at the back of

her wildly thrashing head.

And then she froze as she was, watching again the grotesquely stretched

orifice give more, spreading obscenely, slipping over like a glove and

absorbing the heatedly probing tip of his cock. The pain spread through

her like wildfire, and she saw Ernie grin victoriously at the others

just before he thrust his hips heavily downward, burying half the

hardened fleshy shaft into the soft velvety channel of her protesting

rectum.

Her groans choked back into her throat as automatically her buttocks

twisted and jerked beneath the depraved assault, but her every move

only served to impale her deeper because with each jerk and twist of

her tortured body, Ernie's massive, turgid cock was sinking that much

deeper into her desperately resisting anal passage.

"Hold her shoulders while I lift her ass," he grunted to Klaus.

Kim felt their hands moving on the naked back of her flesh and then she

was being held firmly, unable to struggle as Ernie lifted her firmly

rounded buttocks up in the air, his knees moving in between her sleek

inner thighs to push them wide apart, so his long hard cock could enter

deeper into her stretching rectum. She felt warm tears trickling down

from her eyes as the pain spread. Once again, her eyes locked to the

mirror and saw the desire-inflamed faces of the other two men as they

moved closer in toward her up-raised buttocks to watch the heated rod

of thick hard flesh that was slipping deeper and deeper into the warmly

soft depths of her defenseless rectum. Suddenly, with a loud smacking

noise, Ernie's sperm-bloated balls slapped against her upturned ass

cheeks. He was in---all the way! She had stopped struggling, realizing

in a dazed panic that her only escape from the splitting agony was to

stay as still as possible, for it was hopeless to resist the horrible

attack of these lust-incited men whose only desires were to satisfy

their carnal passions in this her red initiation to group sex. The hurt

was nearly unbearable from Ernie's inhuman penetration of her rectum,

and if she moved even the slightest it only served to suck him deeper

into her, stretching the tightly resisting channel to even more painful

widths.

Kim could feel the enormous cock pushing solidly into her now, rubbing

and expanding to a far greater width the soft skin of her back passage.

She became aware of Ernie's hands brutally gripping her hips with a

hard numbing pressure as he fucked and sawed like a maniac into the

heated depths of her rectum. The pain continued on and on, and each

further thrust brought mumbled groans from deep in her throat. The

pillow was wet from her tears, and he rammed into her with longer,

smoother strokes, worming the entire hard length of hot cock far up

into her cringing young belly until she could feel his bloated balls

buffeting against her wetly quivering cent.

Again, in the mirrors, she saw Klaus climb onto the bed with Ernie and

her as Web came on stage with his mouth wide open and his eyes glazed

in a sexed delirium. Nichole came weaving out of the darkness with a

drink in her hand and stared with a sullen drunkenness at the scene

that went on on the brightly lighted stage. In the mirror, Klaus's long

hard cock stood out like some great log fresh cut from the forest. Kim

felt him squeeze at one breast and trace his hand down her body,

pulling and kneading at her soft white flesh until she thought he might

go insane in his desire.

"Mein Gott! Flip her over!" he called to Ernie who was bug-eyed

concentrating on the thin pink ridges of anal flesh that pulled from

her roundly stretched rectum each time he withdrew his thickly

pulsating penis.

"Okay baby," he smiled down at her hollowed back, "now we go for a

double fuck!"

Ernie grasped her hips again and rolled over to one side, pulling her

backwards on top of him, bringing another groan of pain and surprise

from her lips as she lay outstretched on top of him, her smooth

hollowed back pressed down against his stomach and chest, her legs

splayed lewdly out, on the outside of his own, while his huge heatedly

throbbing cock lay buried in its entirety far up in the heated depths

of her bowels. She was hopelessly skewered and sprawled obscenely---

helpless and unable to prevent them from doing whatever their vile

bestial desires might invent.

Klaus, grimacing like a lewd Teutonic satyr, crawled on top of her,

forcing his thighs between hers and Ernie's, spreading her legs even

farther apart and aiming his eagerly jerking cock at her warmly

moistened open pussy. With one brutal thrust, he rammed his massively

throbbing hardness into her.

"Oooooohhhhh, God!" Kim groaned piteously as it slammed into her until

she felt his heavy sperm-filled testicles slap hard against her smooth

inner thighs---joining the other impaling penis sunk so deeply into her

ass. She whimpered helplessly, both in pain and also in humiliation,

sandwiched like a whore between two grinning men who were skewering her

mercilessly on their thick fiery cocks. She could feel even more pain

now as they thrust deeper into her tender young body with only a

fragile membrane between rectum and cunt separating their hardened

shafts.

Web Hardman was on the stage now, watching in a dazed state of

unconscious lust. He pulled at his own painfully aching penis in his

pants as he watched Klaus begin fucking wildly into Kim's moistly hot

pussy with maddened anger, while Ernie's hips undulated up and down

lifting all three of them up off the bed ... his long hard shaft moved

in and out of her little asshole like a jackhammer with hard cruel

strokes before the two men finally fell into a smooth rhythmic cadence

that pounded the loudly groaning young wife between them like a

ragdoll.

Web Hardman bent over until his face was just a few short inches from

the two wetly glistening cocks ramming into Kim's wide-stretched

genital openings like high-powered punch drills. He watched

breathlessly the pink frayed edges of her tight young pussy flesh

pulling out with Klaus's penis on the outstroke and disappearing lewdly

back inside as he plunged again deep into her quivering little belly.

The same view came to his glazed eyes of Ernie's thickly hardened cock

sucking and pulling down out of her, drawing the brown edges of her

tightly clenched anus with it before wetly reaming back up into her

while his sperm-bloated balls were wedged hard up into the softly

yielding cheeks of her buttocks.

Trembling wildly, Web lay down on his side next to Ernie and fumbled in

his pants for his heatedly throbbing cock. He pulled it out and

adjusted his posture so that his groin was opposite the young wife's

head.

Humiliated and debased, her head twisting from side to side against

Ernie's chest while his fingers teasingly kneaded her breasts, Kim felt

only a great wetness and tearing between her legs. She felt soiled, and

all of her being seemed concentrated down at those two sensitively hot

holes they were drilling up between her wide-stretched thighs. Her

mouth opened and closed at the feeling and thought. Periodically she

tried to squirm up or clench her buttocks together to contain the pain

in her rectum, but each time she did that she became cognizant of the

brutal stretching of her vaginal passage and the greater pain that

followed from Klaus's hard merciless entry.

Then, just as she was beginning to adjust to their dual presence down

between her legs, Kim felt a hard hand entwining itself in her hair,

guiding her face to one side, and then there were fingertips opening

her mouth and a smooth rubbery thing teasing against her lips. She

opened her eyes and saw Web Hardman's eagerly jerking penis in front of

her face. For a moment she tried to tighten her lips to resist him, but

it was futile and she knew it was useless to resist. Resigned, she

relaxed her lips and let him open them with his fingers and slide ms

hotly throbbing cock into the moist warmth of her mouth. She could feel

it slither up the full length of her tongue, filling her cheeks

completely with its fleshy rigidness. He held her face firm with his

hands and began to brutally fuck into her mouth, causing her to choke

as he rammed it halfway down her throat.

They fucked the helpless young wife between the three of them like some

whore they hired off the street. She felt debased and humiliated beyond

all logic, and felt that this unmerciful triple rape of her body had

been going on for all eternity.

Then, the very thought of herself being brutally fucked at every bodily

entrance by three men at the same time, began to lewdly excite her. A

strange masochistic hunger began swirling in her belly and she heard

her own low ecstatic moan bubbling from her cock-filled throat.

Involuntarily, her slowly awakening body began to undulate her buttocks

and clench fist-like with her cuntal and anal muscles at the hard,

lust-driven rods of flesh pummeling into her.

Kim moaned again and her lips tightened more hungrily around the cock

fucking into her mouth, her cheeks ballooning and hollowing lewdly with

Web's vicious drives. Suddenly, she was eagerly licking at the veins

and wrinkles of Web's heatedly pulsing penis as her tongue lapped

voraciously at the lust-swollen head, searching hotly for the tiny

split on the end. At the same time, she was aware of her buttocks

wantonly moving downward against Ernie's upcoming cock digging into her

nakedly split rectum, and aware that she was eagerly jerking forward

and up to suck all of Klaus's long, pistoning cock into her now

insatiable cunt. All sense of her husband and the lewdness of her

position seemed to blank from her mind in a sudden wild flood of

ecstatic and masochistic sensation that was racing like some obscene

sheet of wildfire throughout her whole being. Nothing mattered anymore

but the lust-hardened penises fucking into her three body openings, and

she rocked crazily to their animal-like attack while she sucked like an

unweaned calf at Web's wildly thrusting cock.

Ooooooh God, she wanted his cum to gush out into her throat ... dribble

down her throat ... fill her belly as those fucking into her cunt and

wide-stretched anus would fill her there!

Oh ... Oh ... Oh! ... She could feel Web's cock bloating in her mouth,

and she tongued it madly ... cum ... cum ... cum trip-hammered through

her mind!

And he did!

It burst like a gushing hose, shooting forth thick streams of the

creamy white liquid deep into her furiously working young throat, her

cheeks bloating and contracting as she swallowed repeatedly to keep

from gagging on the great continuous hot jets spewing endlessly from

it. She swallowed in voracious quick gulps, fastening her lips like a

rubber ring tightly around the cumming cock, afraid of losing even a

tiny single trickle of the precious male fluid. Even so, small droplets

dribbled from the corners of her mouth as Web groaned and rolled away

from her and his deflating cock slithered limply from between her still

eagerly sucking mouth, tiny sticky strings of the warm white semen

stretching like cobwebs from her lips to his penis as it slowly backed

away ... but ... there were still others!

"Oh God, fuck it, fuck it, pleeeeezzzz ..." she grunted thickly to each

continuing thrust Klaus and Ernie made into her cunt and rectum. Wild,

almost insane they became, slapping into her without mercy, yet, she

fucked them back with the same wildness for every stroke they rammed

into her, until all three began to moan m strange unintelligible cries

of endless sexual abandon.

"Aaaaaahhhhh, Ooooooohhhhh, Eeeeeehhhh ... God, yes! I can feel both

your cocks fucking into me! Split me! Hurt meeeee! Oh ... God ... keep

fucking!" Kim cried out, egging them on now as the lewdly salacious

thought of having two men fucking into her while the pungent white

sperm of another still filled the recesses of her mouth suddenly drove

her unto an uncontrollable frenzy of lust. On and on it went ... the

rising crescendo of it ... the hungry fingers playing like lecherous

insects over her naked flesh as she was mercilessly impaled in cunt and

rectum from above and below. Her mind exploded ... and nothing else

mattered ... Hank forgotten ... nothing existed but the unholy

sensations of lustful rapture about to burst deep inside her swirling

belly.

"Fill me! Now! Oh God fill me now with your cum! Shoot it into me

together!" she wailed like a lost banshee, the smooth slippery walls of

her lust-heated cunt and rectum contracting like a sucking baby's mouth

around the cocks skewering into her.

And then Ernie began to shout obscenities and at that second Kim, her

shamelessly aroused young body wantonly writhing and twisting like a

belly dancer's between the two men, felt the hot boiling river of his

sperm shoot far up into her rectum. The feeling of his wildly jerking

cock triggered her own orgasm, and unfathomable sensations of feeling

rippled and surged through her. She could feel every throbbing

pulsation of his jerking cock as it spewed out its load of hot white

cum deep, deep into her still sucking bowels. Then Klaus grunted once

and rammed his huge fleshy staff far up in her wildly clasping cunt as

she kicked her legs back as high as she could, her groans heaving from

her chest. The German's thickly throbbing penis let loose and began

spewing its heated white jets of scalding semen far into the depths of

her trembling belly, her own sexual secretions mixing and pooling hotly

with his, an almost insane convulsion of ecstasy momentarily

overwhelming her ...

And then it was all over

They lay about the stage in various lewd poses, panting, catching their

breath, their bodies exhausted. Kim raised herself on one elbow, her

lovely body ravished, and looked into the eyes of Nichole. Nichole

shrugged and gave her a small smile. "Welcome to the dub," was all she

said.

Dripping sweat, still panting, Kim turned to Web who was the only one

on the stage still clothed. His penis was back in his pants. "My

pictures!" Kim breathed.

"Pictures?"

Despair came over her face as she saw the evil smirk on his face. "You

promised me the pictures and negatives!"

"My dear girl, I'm afraid you'll have to do more than that to get those

pictures back,"

"God damn you! You monster!"

"Now, now, that kind of talk will---~

Web was interrupted by a roar that split the air and caused everyone to

jump. A bullet whistled by Web's ear. They all turned to see drunken

Nichole holding a small, pearl-handled revolver in her hand. "'Snuff!"

she said drunkenly.

"Give me that!" Web demanded, walking toward her.

Another roar and a bullet tore up splinters in the stage between his

feet. He stopped in his tracks. Nichole was drunk and ugly, her face

full of hate. She leveled the gun at all of them.

"'Snuff! You're not going to do to her what you did to me. Oh no!"

No one moved. Nichole smiled at Web maliciously. She aimed her gun at

his groin. "Take it out!"

"Nichole, think of what you're doing!"

Nichole slowly cocked the hammer of the gun. "Take it out!"

Slowly, Web reached down and unzipped his pants and took out his small

flaccid penis. Nichole giggled at the sight. Then she focused her gaze

on Kim. "I ... did this to ... you. Get the pictures."

Kim leaped from the stage and seized the pictures. Quickly, she checked

for negatives and copies. She looked at Nichole and wanted very much to

help her. "Come with me," she said, the urgency in her voice.

Sadly, Nichole shook her head. "Belong here," she said thickly, "belong

with him." She pointed the gun at Web. "You don't. Get out now, he'll

never bother you again."

Kim took her advice. She took Nichole's raincoat and the pictures and

ran.

Chapter 9

Kim never saw Web or Nichole or Ernie or Klaus again. She went back to

her cottage and to her quiet life of morning and evening walks and

waiting for her husband to return. No one, looking at her, could tell

what she had been through. Yet, she was changed. Hank was to find that

out when he came home.

His homecoming was quite a thing. Kim was waiting for him at the

airport and had a fire in the fireplace when he got out of the shower

and an iced bottle of champagne in a bucket. They sat on the floor in

front of the fire and drank champagne until Hank began to get amorous.

Tentatively remembering former times, he made a pass.

Kim excused herself and went to the bedroom. She emerged after a few

long moments and Hank's eyes popped. She was naked! She was more than

naked, she was lewdly dressed in high heels, black sheer stockings and

a black garter belt. And she attacked Hank like a big hungry cat. In no

time she had him naked and was playing with his huge, happily throbbing

cock while she turned him around and her tongue licked lasciviously at

the deep crevice between his buttocks.

It was just the beginning. Hank found himself hard put to keep up with

her; he felt like he was being raped by a nymphomaniac!

When it was all over, after she had sucked his cock and guided it into

her pussy and gave him the fucking of his life, while he was laying on

his back and heaving for breath, she was plying him with more champagne

and playing with his penis, gently urging it back to life.

"Where," he asked, "did you learn all of that?"

"All?" she asked, batting her eyes demurely, "why Hank Stewart, you old

fuddy-duddy, I have not yet begun to fuck!"

He looked at her for an astounded moment before he exploded with

laughter and took her in his arms and kissed her, feeling not only had

he built one hell of a bridge, he had himself one hell of a wife.

The End