Harry Pitt stared at the large color print in his hand, unable to take his eyes off the coolly smiling face of the beautiful woman depicted in it. It was an exceptionally good photograph, perfectly in focus, and Harry felt a tremor of thrilling excitement shoot unwillingly through him as his avid gaze continued to devour the sultry lines of the woman’s exquisitely sculpted body. She was wearing a plain woolen dress, which at first glance seemed. somewhat prim, but as Harry continued to stare, the molded curve of her voluptuous breasts was revealed by the tight fit of her garment which also swept snugly along the arc of her hips, displaying to undoubted advantage the enticing flare of her thighs. Her glossy black hair was piled high on her head and her lips were slightly parted in a provocative smile.
“She’s really something isn’t she?” Jeff’s voice broke in on Harry’s reverie, and he turned to look at his companion, feeling a stab of envy tugging at his stomach at the recollection that the glorious creature in the photograph was the other man’s wife.
“Y-yes, she is,” he mumbled, reluctantly handing back the alluring snapshot.
“Yes,” Jeff went on, replacing the print in his large wallet. “My Ann’s quite a girl. Six years of Wedded Bliss, as they call it, and I’m still as crazy about her as ever! And let me tell you,” he added, wheeling around to face the younger man again, “it’s not an easy job keeping Jeff Green interested!”
Harry could well believe his newly acquired friend’s egotistical remark. He was a tall muscular man in his middle forties with dark good looks and the air of a man who has been around the world a bit. Harry had already gleaned, from their limited conversation, that Jeff was a connoisseur as far as women were concerned, and he thought with a trace of bitterness that his stunning wife reflected the taste of an expert.
"Hey, cheer up, man!” Jeff inveigled, putting his arm on the younger man’s shoulder. "I thought that photo of Ann would chase away your blues! Of course, if you knew her, like I know her, you wouldn’t be able to think of anything else! Boy, I can hardly wait to get back home and get her in-”
“It’s being in this goddamned cell that’s driving me nuts!” Harry interrupted, angrily loosening his tie and opening the top button on his creased white shirt. His dark blue Brooks Brothers suit was beginning to be rumpled and his usually shiny shoes were coated with a thin film of grime.
“I keep telling you, Harry; you’ve nothing to worry about. A day or two in the cooler never hurt anyone, and you’ll be out come Monday, for sure. What about me? I’ve been here a week already, going Out of my mind wondering if that’ sexy wife of mine hasn’t found a new bed partner! You’d have something to complain about-”
“But at least there’s a valid reason why you’re in here,” Harry insisted obstinately and then laughed weakly. “Look Jeff, I didn’t mean…”
“No, you have a point,” Jeff agreed, flicking some dust particles from the sleeve of his sports jacket. “They’ve got something on me or at least they think they have, but they haven’t yet beat Mike… one of the best lawyers in the City!”
“Well, I sure could use him!” Harry grimaced. “That’s just it, you’re somebody… a big shot… you’ll find a way to get out of this goddamned hole. You’ve got the money and the contacts! I’ve got neither, and all I did was to go a few lousy miles over the speed limit!” His doubled fist came crashing down with a resounding smash on the small table beside the narrow beds. “And all because of that damned demonstration!”
“Take it easy!” Jeff soothed, “I’m telling you, they’re just cracking down on everyone this weekend. They’re afraid with all the kids pouring in from everywhere.”
‘Why the hell couldn’t they stay at home? What do they know about the war? Dirty unkempt layabouts… a hard day’s work would kill them! Sponging off their parents on the pretext of studying and then spending their time causing trouble, harassing the police, filling themselves up with dope. And who suffers? The innocent mugs, like me, trying to make an honest living after working my guts out to get through college! Christ! If I had one of those hairy bastards here now…”
“Don’t be so hard on them, my boy,” Jeff suggested. “After all, it’s time somebody stood up to the Machine which has been desperately trying to coat us with all the whitewash of conformity. I admire these kids! They-”
“Don’t tell me you’re on their side!” Harry spat, fury burning in his intense blue eyes, his face distorted with rage.
“Well, it’s pretty obvious from my activities that I’m not a System man, isn’t it?” Jeff smiled, examining his nails intently.
A wave of depression swept over Harry, and wearily he sat down on the edge of the bed, sinking his head in his hands. Since the police had picked him up last night, everything was a nightmare. He felt he was in a trance when he found himself pushed into the cramped cell after being allowed the briefest of phone calls to his wife. He couldn’t believe it was happening to him, Harry Pitt! And yet there was reality! Locked up in a decrepit cell with an amoral, slick gangster, held for the umpteenth time on some kind of gambling violation. What was the world coming to? None of this would have happened in the first place, he lamented, if those damned hippies, and good-for-nothing students hadn’t decided to have their antiwar march here in Chicago this weekend. But they had, and he had the bad luck to be a few miles over the speed limit on one of the streets heavily patrolled by the riot squad. He closed his eyes in agony as he recalled his bad luck that led to his incarceration, and his mouth worded obscenities as he thought about the demonstrators.
“I hope the police crack their goddamned skulls for them, the lazy sons-of-bitches! It’s what they deserve. They should be kept off the streets so decent folk can get on with their lives!”
“Well, there’s nothing you can do about it now, anyway,” Jeff commiserated. “Monday won’t be long coming and you’ll be out. As for me, God knows how long I’ll be left in here this time!”
Harry felt a sudden stab of sympathy for his newfound friend. His conviction was really serious… if he was found guilty, it could mean years of imprisonment. Maybe his own case wasn’t so bad after all…
“I haven’t shown you a picture of my wife,” Harry said suddenly, at once anxious to change the subject. He searched clumsily in his wallet and withdrew a small black and white photo. Without looking at it, he handed it to Jeff who immediately took it over to examine it in the light from the small barred window.
“Wow! What a little angel!” he said, his eyes widening as he stared at the image of the lovely, almost ethereal blonde who was looking back at him with limpid dark eyes, her small oval face framed by a cloud of shimmering blonde hair. Yes, an angel, Harry thought, that’s what Sandy is.
“She’s a real beaut!” Jeff exclaimed, “How old did you say she is?”
“Eighteen!” Harry answered, suddenly shy. “We’ve only been married for two months. I know she’s terribly young, but… but we couldn’t wait!”
“Yes, I can see why,” Jeff mused, unable to draw his lascivious gaze away from the haunting beauty reflected in the fragile face of the young bride. Surreptitiously, he drew the tip of his tongue over his dry lips, his eyes still riveted on the photograph, as if spellbound by what he saw. The photograph was only a head and shoulders study, but Jeff could just make out the beginning of the swell of her ripe young breasts through her tightly drawn sweater, and a thrill of interest coursed through him.
Christ! I’d give anything to get a taste of that little honeypot… She looks young and innocent and vulnerable… just what I like… Jeff’s thoughts ran lewdly on, his eyes blurred from the strain of unwavering concentration. So sweet and tender… if I could only get my hands on that little piece.
“She sure is a honey,” he grinned to Harry, handing him back the photograph. “You picked a good one, and no mistake! Am I right?” Jeff winked and Harry felt pleased at his companion’s praise. Yes, he felt proud of his young wife: so lovely, so gentle, such a perfect wife, except for… well… Involuntarily, Harry found his mind flitting back to the picture he’d seen of Jeff’s wife, exuding self-assurance, sexiness, erotic promise. Sandy certainly didn’t exude that! Harry thought, unable to repress the pang of bitterness which rose up inside him. If only she was more responsive, more welcoming physically. Ann would be, he was sure; you could tell that from her photograph. That was the only thing that marred their fairy-tale like marriage. It wasn’t Sandy’s fault; things would probably get better. If only she’d make an effort; show him that she loved him, like she was always saying she did.
“How about a game of poker?” Jeff’s loud voice broke in on the young husband’s troubled thoughts and Harry was glad to be able to forget his worries in the absorbing card game.
Harry couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t so much the narrowness and hardness of the bed nor the stifling air of the small cell, as much as the turbulence of his thoughts. Even last night. his first night in jail, he had been able to fall into a relatively untroubled sleep. He was one of those people who possessed the faculty of being able to sleep anywhere and at any time, and he knew that this attribute would be useful to him when he had finished his training as a salesman and would have to go on the road. But now his mind was on fire with disturbing images and ideas.
The horrible reality of his present position had penetrated to his inner consciousness, instilling him with a fear that the equilibrium of his life, his marriage with Sandy, everything, in fact, was in danger of toppling. He couldn’t shake loose the doubts which tormented him any more than he could obliterate the image of an exquisite dark-haired beauty who was beckoning to him in a series of impressions delineated with startling clarity on his dazed brain. He couldn’t banish the memory of Ann, Jeff’s wife, from his head. He had had only a brief look at her photograph… why was her picture torturing him? He had a lovely young wife of his own; things, except for this present setback were going well. What was the matter with him? Sure, Sandy and he had their little difficulties. That was only natural. He really loved her; there was no doubt about that, and together they would solve their problem. It had been love at first sight for both of them, and even though Sandy was so young, they both knew they had to be together and had finally, after long argument, convinced her parents to allow them to marry. After the decision had been made, things seemed to look up, and he was accepted right out of college in a trainee program, and they were able to rent a great apartment which Sandy’s father had discovered for them. And so they had got married, Sandy a ravishing beauty in a froth of white lace, her face glowing with love and excitement as she swept up the aisle on her father’s arm. Harry remembered clearly how she looked when he finally was able to lead her down the aisle and how proud and happy he felt. And they lived happily ever after…
Again, Harry experienced a wave of bitterness, a sort of emptiness which he knew had nothing to do with his being in jail. It was a feeling he had tried to suppress during the last two months, tried to ignore, pretend it wasn’t there. But it was! A feeling of disappointment. Yes! He couldn’t help feeling that he had been somehow cheated, and in some strange way, seeing the picture of Jeff’s gorgeous sultry wife added to his discontent. He just, well, it was obvious, that Jeff’s wife knew how to satisfy him in bed. And that was what mattered. If a man was happy with what he was getting in bed he was ready for anything, could face any problem the day might bring. And that’s what’s wrong with me! he complained silently as he changed his position in the cramped cell cot for the dozenth time. If only things were different! If only Sandy wasn’t so cold…
Sleep having eluded him completely, he sat up in bed, giving full rein to his worried thoughts. Poor Sandy. She had actually cried on the phone when he’d talked to her and told her what had happened to him. She had been so distressed, and Harry could just imagine her, lonely and upset at their apartment. It wasn’t easy for her, he knew, because just after their marriage her parents had moved to Michigan, her father being transferred to Detroit. She had also quit her job in order to devote her entire time to Harry, and he knew she was really feeling the strain of the discordancy in their marriage. It wasn’t really her fault. She was so young and naturally inexperienced: innocent really, of what married life really entailed.
And things had gone wrong right from the very start. On their wedding night in fact. Harry flinched even now as he recalled that painful evening, and try as he might, he couldn’t dam the flood of memories which came rushing back with such intensity as if they sought to alleviate their strength by being remembered and recalled.
It had been a mistake to drive all the way to the resort on Lake Winnebago in Wisconsin right after their reception, he knew now, but Sandy had been so insistent, having everything planned in her mind and wanting things to be just right. He himself had wanted to stop and spend the night in Milwaukee because even though the drive wasn’t that long, they were both strung out after the day and their nerves were at their snapping point already. But Sandy had pleaded, almost in tears, to continue, and he had acquiesced against his better judgment. But she looked so appealing in her pink going away suit that he hadn’t the heart to deny her, and so they had driven on, arriving at their resort very late, a flat tire having added to their difficulties along the way. Their little cabin, however, was almost idyllic, very clean and cozy, just what they had hoped it would be. Harry had felt his tiredness and irritation fading away as he held his lovely new bride in his arms and felt the palpitating warmth of her frail body against his. Then she had rushed away and headed into the bathroom to prepare herself for bed, and Harry had sat down to wait, whiling away the time with a drink from the selection of half-pints arrayed in the cabinet in the living room.
At last, Sandy had appeared and had stood in the doorway of the bathroom, her soft lovely body gracefully enhanced by the sheer chiffon of her long white nightgown. She had tied her blonde hair tressed up with a blue ribbon, and little curls fell down in wisps around her face. Her eyes seemed huge, like limpid pools in her pale face, and her natural trepidation added to the tender mystery of her doe-like appearance. Harry felt a wave of love wash over him for his beautiful young wife, and also felt the first really urgent stirrings of his prick against his leg as his eyes devoured for the first time the alluring semi-nakedness of his bride.
Without a word, he had strode across the room and swept her into his arms, crushing her against him in a passionate, hungry kiss, demanding and eager. He felt her wince from the touch of his throbbing cock as it pulsated through the fabric of his pants, and misinterpreting her reaction, he hurriedly stripped off his shirt and then his pants, allowing the turgid erection of his penis to leap unimpeded upward. Sandy’s startled gaze had fallen on his huge pulsating hardness, and Harry remembered now how a stab of anger had teased him as her horrified reaction had registered on her pale face. But he had cautioned himself that it was all new to her… to take it easy and everything would be all right. Once more he had clasped her to him, overwhelmed with love for her, overpowered by the intoxicating nearness of her trembling body. He could feel the supple softness of her nubile young breasts through the sheer cloth of her nightie, and eagerly his hands worked their way down the velvety curves of her slender body. His heavy blood-filled cock, hungry and avid, jabbed against the tender flesh of her thigh as his mouth found hers and his tongue rushed inside the warm buttery cavern of her mouth. She responded eagerly to his kiss, her tongue fencing with his, her lips firm yet resilient beneath his.
Hardly daring to breathe, he had guided her over to the bed, gently raising the hem of her long nightdress, revealing to his excited eyes for the first time the full glory of her perfect body. He remembered, as he sat in the darkness of his cell, how his eyes had widened at the first glimpse of the sculpted ivory of her shapely thighs, the enticing triangle, of her quivering little pussy with just a glint of moist pinkness shimmering through the golden wisps of her trembling outer lips, further up to where her lovely young body was surmounted by twin peaks of exquisite firmness, capped by roseate nipples already turgid with her rising passion. He had no idea she’d be so lovely! He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and his mouth longed to cover every inch of her beautiful flesh with hot burning kisses.
Take it slow, he reminded himself again as he lay her back on the soft coverlet of the bed, completely naked now. She was mewling in a low hoarse voice as his hands crept over her tingling flesh, and every nerve ending in her virginal young body seemed to be alive with intoxicating delight.
Then her small slender hand had reached down and with almost childlike curiosity, had brushed against the swollen flesh of his erectly throbbing penis. Her touch was like a firebrand on the hotly palpitating flesh, and he couldn’t suppress a moan as her fingers tightened around the pounding circumference sending shoots of red-hot pleasure darting through him. Her touch sent off the spark of animal passion lurking beneath the carefully controlled exterior of his measured actions. Red demons seemed to dance a lewd waltz before his swimming eyes, and his body, of its own volition, swept aside his rational caution, bent on satisfying its own raging lust. With a harsh animalistic groan, he had swept aside the slender columns of her thighs, revealing the open slit of her quivering pussy, a deep luscious furor of pink virginal moistness. He could remember clearly now as he thought over his wedding night, the look of pure horror and fear that had come over his young bride’s passion-softened features as she suddenly realized what was happening. But he couldn’t help himself. His body was out of his control, and he himself was swept mercilessly along on the tide of his bestial lust.
“No! No, please, Noooo…” Her piercing scream had reverberated throughout the cabin, and Harry felt sure it had resounded in the woods outside as well. Even now, two months later, he still believed he could hear that soulful scream cutting him to the marrow, instilling a self-loathing inside him which he felt would never be erased. But on his wedding night, his mind was blunted by his desire and her fear and Sandy’s fingers had tightened even more around the hot throbbing pole of his prick, inciting him to further abandoned passion.
Without regard for her pleas, he had guided the huge thickness of his penis towards the tiny cringing hole of her petal-shaped vagina, and without a moment’s hesitation, had rammed forward with all the strength of his brutal lust, splitting his bride’s virginal young flesh aside in one hymen-ripping stroke as his gigantic cock cleaved through her tight futilely resisting cuntal passage. He remembered that her first terrified scream had frozen on her fear-contorted lips as paralytic disbelief took over, turning her tortured body to ice, distorting her face into a mask of numbed horror. But his lust was a cruel tyrannical master, driving him on relentlessly, and he couldn’t help himself, so great was his need to pound himself to completion up inside the virginal sheath between her lovely open thighs.
It was all over quickly. The urgency of his frenetic lust, the tightness of her unaccustomed cuntal passage, the numbing unreality of the whole act, all converged and turned him into a raving caricature of himself. After a series of hard deep thrusts, he felt the rumblings of his sperm as it clamored for release, and with a snarl, he began to empty the hot thick liquid deeply up into his wife’s open belly, filling her with the supreme offering of his manhood, spurting jet after jet of heated white semen into her penis-filled depths.
When at last he slumped over her inert body, it was a moment or two more before he realized what he had done. There was no sign of life in her pale tear-stained face, and her delicate young body seemed somehow soiled and sullied by his brutal attack.
A consuming sense of regret pervaded him as he stared open-mouthed at the crumpled hurt body of his lovely bride, and a flush of shame enveloped him, crimsoning his face.
“Sandy… oh baby, what have I done?” he’d whispered desperately, searching for some sign of consciousness in her still face. After a long moment she had opened her eyes, and Harry felt he would never forget the look of reproach and disgust, yes, disgust which was reflected in her dark smoldering gaze. What happened after, Harry didn’t like to think about. He had begged her forgiveness, assuring her it would never happen again. He blamed himself completely and promised to make up to her. If she had screamed out at him, told him she hated him, he could have borne it. In fact, he would have felt better. But instead, she had heard his self-recriminations with calm indifference, telling him to forget about it, that it was over now.
That was what hurt most, he reflected now, as he settled himself back in the narrow bed, wishing for sleep to come. Her resignation to his brutal action, her obvious acceptance without demur of his callous behavior, as if she expected no better of him!
They had never referred to that night again, but Harry knew that it was on her mind, as it was certainly on his each time they made love. Not that they did it that often, because there was just no pleasure in it for either of them. It was his fault, of course, for starting off on the wrong foot, and he was never again able to bring her to anything approaching the swoon of passion she had experienced before he had lost control of himself. Now, she just lay inert and unmoving with her legs limply spread, obviously wishing it was all over with, waiting for him to empty his sperm into her before falling asleep. In other respects, their marriage was perfect, and Harry was continually amazed and impressed at his wife’s homemaking skills. Every day she seemed like a different woman to him, always exciting, mysterious.
Things have got to get better between us in bed, he thought desperately, or I'll go crazy! He knew things were reaching an impasse whereby his continual sexual frustration coupled with his self-disgust because of what he had done, would make him do something irrevocable.
His thoughts bitter and jumbled, he fell into a light sleep, tortured by horrifying nightmares in which Sandy was lying on the bed, encased in a block of ice while he, chained and manacles, desperately tried to reach her, shrieking wildly:
If only I could melt that ice…