"Sometimes I don't understand you," he said.
Jack was still naked on the bed. His dick had softened a bit but had not gone completely slack, for he was a potent fellow. It looped out from his belly in a fat parabola, twitching at the knob.
He was exasperated with Sarah.
The fuck had been wonderful – the aftermath was a grievous and incomprehensible letdown.
Sarah had looked embarrassed as soon as she had got her rocks off, which annoyed him. And then she had rushed into the bathroom to take another shower and brush her teeth again, as if she couldn't wait to get the taste of his lips out of her mouth and to cleanse his cum from her loins.
Now she was dressing, and as he watched her draw her bikini panties up over her limber hips, his dick pulsed and hardened a bit more, the bow beginning to straighten into a new erection.
She fitted her heavy tits into her bra. "Let's not talk about it," she said.
"That's the fucking trouble… I think we should talk about it, Sarah, damn it all!"
She wavered between anger and embarrassment. He could never tell what she was feeling or thinking – except when his cock was up her cunt and she was coming.
"I know you aren't frigid," he said. "Why in hell must you pretend you are?"
"I don't. I just… I'm just not depraved."
"Ah, shit," he said.
She pulled her dress on. An evil gleam came into his eyes.
He said, "Hey, my prick is getting hard again, honey. I got to come again."
"I haven't got time now, Jack."
"It won't take long."
"I'm late already."
"Just a few strokes and I'll blow my wad."
"Then I'll have to shower again and get dressed all over and I simply don't…"
"Suck me off," he said.
Her eyes snapped open. She gaped at him. He couldn't tell if she was shocked or outraged or stunned.
He wrapped his fist around the hilt of his prick and gave it a slow push-pull, causing the big knob to flare.
"C'mon," he said. He was annoyed and he wanted to shock her. "Just suck on the head of my dick for a minute, baby. Have a nice creamy drink-on-a-stick." His eyes narrowed. "Then you won't have to shower; you'll just have to brush your teeth."
"You're disgusting," she said.
She walked to the door.
"All right, Sarah," he called after her. "But I'm not gonna go all day with a hard-on, waiting for you to come home so I can have a Goddamn man-on-top-and-no-nonsense fuck like some impotent preacher doing his duty."
"If you don't like making love to me…"
"I can find someone else, is that it?"
She was facing away from him, about to open the door. Her shoulders stiffened. Even from the back, not able to see her face, Jack could tell that she was stricken by his words.
"That's right," he said. "I think I'll pick up some agreeable trollop today. I think maybe that's a fine idea. Maybe I can get my cock sucked for a change. For a moment she was as still as if she had turned into a block of ice."
She gave a little gasp, then she ran out.
Jack scratched his head with his left hand. His right hand was still folded around the root of his prick, which had risen into a rampant tower once more.
He wondered why she had been so startled or shocked – or whatever the hell she had been.
Then he shrugged.
And since his dick was already in his hand, he began to pump it up and down and soon enough he blew a quick silvery wad of spunk in a loop from his cockhead.
He thought about Sarah when he came. He really did love her. If only he could understand her…
Jack could have understood well enough if he'd had the facts. Sarah's behavioral patterns stemmed from her childhood. She even knew what caused her to act as she did, but knowing did not enable her to conquer her inhibitions, for insight and knowledge are not battering rams with which to break down the walls erected by trauma and emotion.
Sarah would have liked to have been passionate. She often fantasized about fucking Jack in different settings, different positions. She thought about how nice it would be to take the initiative sometimes in their lovemaking. She dreamed about sucking his cock and sitting on his face and dressing up in black stockings and a garter belt for his titillation.
When he'd suggested that she suck him off, her mouth had actually started to water for his prick.
Her reactions, had, shocked her more than his words.
She wanted to… but she couldn't.
When Sarah had been fourteen years old, her father had brought his mistress home to live with them. The mistress, Wanda, was a redhead with huge tits and a soft red mouth from which a stream of coarse words constantly issued – the complete antithesis of Sarah's mother, who was slender and willowy and soft-spoken.
Sarah had been scandalized when Wanda appeared as a member of the household. Sarah's mother, however, had been philosophical and resigned in her calm, long-suffering fashion.
"How can you allow it, Mom?" Sarah had asked.
Her mother had sighed and mumbled something about Wanda providing something that Sarah's father needed.
Sarah was just beginning to awaken to the needs of her cunt, and she found herself fascinated by the brash, lewd redhead – repelled and intrigued at the same time.
She observed her carefully.
This wasn't hard because Wanda never gave a damn who was looking at her, or when.
One day, coming home from school, Sarah had discovered Wanda masturbating. The redhead was on the couch, her skirt pulled up above the waist, a bottle of Scotch in one hand and the other hand skillfully massaging her clitoris.
Sarah had stood in the doorway, dumbfounded. Her mother and father were out and she was alone in the house with Wanda. The moment Sarah realized what the redhead was doing, her pussy began to steam.
"Hey! Come on in and close the fucking door," Wanda had said. "Don't want to get a draft on my hot cunt."
Sarah had gone into the room.
She had watched, absolutely fascinated, while Wanda rubbed her cunt to a froth.
"Ummm, that's better," the redhead had said, after she had shivered through an orgasm. She took a slug of Scotch from the bottle. "That felt so good, I think I'll do it again."
She looked speculatively at Sarah.
"Unless maybe you'd like to do it for me?" he asked.
"Certainly not," Sarah had said, although the idea was not at all unpleasant, she realized to her surprise.
"Not that way, huh? Well don't just stand there gawking, for Chrissake. Sit down somewhere."
Sarah sat opposite Wanda, Wanda fingerfucked herself with obvious delight. Sarah watched and her pussy caught on fire and sure enough, she had to go to her own bedroom where, in privacy, she had masturbated with desperate urgency.
And while she was rubbing herself to a lather, she found herself wishing that she had had the nerve to lift her skirt and do it right there in the living room while Wanda was doing herself, the two of them jerking off and watching each other. The idea was so exciting that it electrified her.
And then, after she'd come, it had filled her with shame.
Wanda, however, was shameless.
And later that same week, Sarah had watched Wanda giving her father a blow job on the same couch.
Sarah hid around the corner, only, one big blue eye in sight, and observed in utter awe as the woman's soft red lips had slurped up and down on Sarah's father's thick, gnarled cock. His eyes were closed as he shifted his hips around, fucking into the woman's face. Wanda's eyes were open.
Sarah never knew if Wanda realized she was under observation, but it was a moot point – Wanda didn't give a damn.
Her father blew a thick gout of cum into Wanda's mouth and the voracious cocksucker purred like a cat at the bowl of cream and gulped it down with relish.
Sarah had had to rush to her room and massage her pussy with both hands, grinding out three wild and turbulent orgasms before she was cool enough to be mortified at what she'd seen.
Sarah was horrified by Wanda.
And yet, that beautiful, terrible thrill was there – undeniably there – a dark delight deep in her loins.
She wished that her father would kick Wanda out, yet she knew that she would miss the woman and the aura of depravity that clung to her.
Sarah, at that time, was still a virgin, still quite innocent.
In her innocence, she figured she had a weapon to use against Wanda in her mothers defense, the time that she discovered the lusty redhead having an orgy with three men she had picked up at the corner bar.
Sarah's father had been away on a business trip. Her mother had fled the house when Wanda came home, drunk, with three men in tow, but Sarah had stayed to get the goods on her, hiding in the shadows of the room adjacent and watching with keen interest while Wanda fucked the three fellows in turn, taking each of their pricks into her mouth and sucking it up nice and hard before letting them screw her.
When her father had gotten home, Sarah told him what Wanda had done in his absence, expecting him to be outraged.
He had chuckled and gotten a hard-on and summoned Wanda to his bedroom, where he demanded all the juicy details of the orgy while he banged merrily away at her twat.
Sarah was confused.
She knew full well that her father would have been hurt and scandalized if his wife, Sarah's mother, had cheated on him. And yet, he had been amused and very, very horny at finding out that his mistress had.
Sarah had begun to realize that there were more differences between wives and mistresses than met the eye.
She listened at the door, her eye at the keyhole, trying to find out what those differences were. Through the slot she saw her father sitting on the edge of the bed, the fuck finished but his dick still rampant. Wanda sat on the floor, his prick in her hand, rubbing the bloated knob against her cheek while she told him further details of the gang-bang.
"And the third fellow," she was saying, "his pecker was much bigger than yours."
That wasn't true, Sarah knew as she eyed her father's cock and recalled the cock of the third orgiast. But she realized that truth was not as vital as stimulation.
"I did so want to drink his cum," Wanda had said, rubbing the swollen cockhead under her chin. "But I wanted that big fat dong up my pussy, too. It was such a terribly hard decision for a girl to make." Sarah's father had grinned like a wolf and fed his pecker to Wanda's head and poured a load of hot jism down her throat.
He wasn't jealous at all.
Sarah was dismayed.
And, of course, so hot that she had to fuck herself to a frazzle with a fat sausage.
Then Wanda left.
Sarah never knew if her father had kicked her out or if Wanda had left of her own volition, nor did that seem to matter. That night, hoping to find some answers to the things that perplexed her, Sarah listened at her parents' bedroom door. She was becoming quite adept at such spying, but this time, she knew, it was all in a good cause.
She didn't expect to get horny this time.
But the seeds of perpetual horniness had already been sowed by all the depraved things she had witnessed. She had even wondered – and been horrified at herself – if she should offer to suck her father off, herself, to replace Wanda and keep it in the family, as it were. And having seen his huge hard prick, she did not find the idea unattractive – the fact that it would be incestuous only made it scan more thrilling.
She would never do a thing like that.
But she thought about it a lot.
Then, listening at her parents door, she got some answers – of sorts – and with those answers a whole new problem. "I'm glad she's gone," her mother had said.
"More prick for you now, huh?" said her father, laughing.
Sarah could hear her mother panting and she knew that he was playing with her cunt.
Then her mother had said, "Wait, Mike…"
"Yeah?" he grunted.
"I thought… wouldn't you like me to suck your cock for a change?" her mother had suggested.
There was a hollow silence.
Her mother said, "I thought… well, you seemed to enjoy it so much when Wanda sucked you off… I thought maybe you'd like me to do it for you, now, I don't mind, Mike. You could come in my mouth and I'd swallow it and everything, just like her."
"Irma!" Mike had gasped.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"How could you even suggest such a thing?"
"I thought you liked it."
"Irma, Irma, you misguided woman. Do you think I'm so depraved that I would let you, my own wife, suck my cock?"
"I don't see that."
"Let me tell you something," Mike had said with weary patience. "Cock sucking is a thing that sluts like Wanda do. That's why I had her as a mistress, so I could get sucked and screw her up the ass and things like that. Wives don't do things like that. Wives are pure and chaste and innocent. Wives lie on their backs and let their husbands get on top of them and have sex in a normal, natural, wholesome manner."
"Oh," said Irma in a small voice.
"Why, if you ever so much as had a lick of my dick, I'd divorce you," he had said.
"I won't, Mike! I'll never lick that all, I promise. I just wasn't thinking, I guess."
"In fact, I've been a bit worried about you lately, Irma. When I fuck you, you get very excited. It isn't seemly. Sometimes I think you even come, Irma. I mean, it's all right if you come once in a while if it just sort of sneaks up on you by accident and you can't help it. But you should try not to get so exited, really, dear. It's not seemly."
"I'm sorry," she had wailed.
"That's all women's liberation crap, demanding orgasms and suchlike. All crap. The only women who ought to have orgasms are sluts and libbers and lesbians… all of which are grounds for instant divorce, in my book."
"Yes, dear," said Irma meekly.
"And think of this." Mike was getting excited as he played with ideas, heaving them around like building blocks. "I have to kiss you! When I leave for work in the morning, I kiss you goodbye. When I get home, smack, I kiss you on the lips. Do you expect me to kiss a mouth that's had a cock in it? Huh? Think about that for a minute. Am I some sort of queer that I'm gonna kiss a mouth that's been swallowing cum? Let me tell you, Irma… I never kissed that filthy slut, Wanda, not one single time."
"I'm glad you explained it, dear."
"All right. Now you get on your back and open your legs and give me my marital rights… and for God's sake, try not to get so excited about it that you come. There's nothing more disgusting than some panting broad with a creaming cunt. You got a home to run, meals to cook, a daughter to raise. You can't go around thinking about having orgasms like some tramp!"
"Yes, dearest," his wife had said.
And Mike had mounted her and fucked her for a while and grunted a little as he came, and Irma was very careful not to make any sound at all. If she'd come, she kept it in her hat.
And Sarah, listening at the door to the one-sided sounds of this marital lovemaking, had figured it was a damn good thing that she had not asked her father if he wanted her to suck him off. He would have been scandalized!
Sarah had rubbed herself off where she stood, belly to the door. She didn't know about wives but she knew damn well that fourteen-year-old girls have to come plenty!
Sarah was impressionable.
Her father's words had affected her deeply. In one part of her mind – the rational part – she realized that it was nonsense and that he had the wrong idea about how a wife should behave in bed. But in some other, emotional part, the confused girl felt that she had to make a grave choice in the near future – that she had to be like her mother or like Wanda and that there was no transitional ground between the two.
The mental block went deep.
Sarah couldn't relax and enjoy sex in any way but the most prosaic – the missionary position.
She knew this was unfair to Jack – and to herself – but she couldn't help herself. She often tried to tell him what she wanted in the four-letter words of passion, but those words stuck in her throat – in that frustrated throat where a cock had never ventured. She often wanted to reach out for his cock but simply could riot, always waiting until he guided her hand.
She hoped she would grow out of it.
But so far she had showed no signs. Quite the opposite, in fact – the longer she lived with Jack and the better she got to know him, the more inhibited she felt in his presence. It would have been easier to relax with a stranger, she thought, but she wasn't the sort of girl who would find herself in bed with a stranger.
It was a vicious circle and it frustrated her every bit as much as it did Jack.
It was because of her past that Jack's words, said in anger, had stunned her so greatly as she stood at the door.
He'd said, "I think I'll pick up some agreeable trollop today. Maybe I can get my cock sucked for a change."
And even though she'd realized he wasn't serious but was only saying that to hurt her, a sudden image of Wanda had flashed into her mind. She stood there – frozen – and saw quite clearly an image of that lusty redhead sucking her father's dick.
Only it wasn't her father.
It was Jack.
And she imagined coming home from her charitable work – that charity work that she did to sublimate her sexual desires – and finding that Jack had moved another woman in to share their bed. Some brazen, foul-mouthed slut who would give him all the things that Sarah couldn't or wouldn't, sucking his dick and letting him dog-fuck her and bugger her ass and… The image shattered and her eyes filled with a rush of tears.
Then she'd rushed out.
She wanted to turn back to him, to smile and tell him that she had been wrong and, most of all, to begin making it up to him by milking his big dick in her mouth, but she couldn't do that and she'd rushed out, filled with horror at the thought that he might find another girl – that she might lose him to someone else, or have to share him, because of her self-imposed inadequacies.
My father was wrong! she thought. He wasn't even normal – bringing his mistress right into the house, having those bizarre ideas about how a wife should behave.
She stopped outside the apartment building, her face flushed. She closed her eyes and a struggle went on inside her head. She felt dizzy. Her mind trembled as the artillery of that combat thundered through her and the marching boots of the combatants tramped through her peace of mind.
And then the block shattered.
Sarah blinked, startled. Then she smiled.
She had done it! She had broken her own inhibitions by the effort of her willpower and the piercing light of her rational mind, aided by the fear that otherwise, she might loose Jack.
As if inhibition had actual weight and had been burdening her with its leaden presence, the girl suddenly felt lighter and more buoyant.
Her face was radiant.
She had cast off the shackles that had bound her and she knew without the slightest doubt that from this moment on, she could behave as she had always wanted to.
And knowing that, the girl was suddenly filled with the urgent desire to fuck Jack again – in any way he chose.
She hurried back up the stairs.
As she came to the apartment door, and paused. She heard Jack breathing heavily within. She grinned, pleased that he was still excited and then, giggling at her own naughtiness, she leaned down and looked through the keyhole – a thing she had not done since that memorable time of the menage a trois.
Through the keyhole she could see the bed.
And she looked in just as Jack's speeding hand pumped a wad of spunk from his cock and balls and left him limp and panting and totally spent.
A great disappointment rushed through her, echoing in the chamber of her new sexual freedom.
If only she had come back a minute sooner she could have had that delicious looking load in her mouth!
But then she grinned, ruefully.
She thought: It serves me right. I've made Jack wait so long to get what he wants, it's only fair that I have to wait awhile, myself, now. Tonight… She shivered with expectation.
Jack was in for a treat – as many treats as he wanted. And Sarah knew that by the time she got home from her day of collecting for charity, she was going to be as eager and as randy and as ready for it as Jack would be.
She knew that she would be thinking about it all day, her mouth watering and her pussy creaming as she walked from door to door. She wondered if she could bear waiting that long. She might even have to go in a bathroom somewhere and rub herself off, she thought, flushing at the idea, for she had given up masturbation when she had moved in with Jack, and it seemed rather naughty for a girl who lived with a man to play with herself like, say, a virgin.
She tiptoed away from the door, not wanting to embarrass Jack by making him aware that she had been a witness to his self-gratification.
By that evening, he would be horny again. Sarah was already hornier than she'd been in years – since, in fact, she had watched Wanda blow her father.
And so the girl went off to collect for charity. She had no idea that she was going to be giving as much as she collected and that the donations she took in during the course of that day would be seminal.