“So what have you been up to while I’ve been away?” Jeff Green teased his wife, who stretched out voluptuously on the bed beside him, She cupped her chin in her hand and looked up sensually at him through her luxuriant dark lashes.
“Ooohh, nothing much, dear… just entertaining that young friend of yours!”
“Aha! I thought you’d like that young fellow. He’s just your type, isn’t he?”
“H’mmm, I like them young all right, but sometimes, I like them older, too!” Ann purred, her hand reaching out to stroke the semi-erect expanse of her husband’s prick.
“Your little sojourn in prison must have done you a lot of good, darling,” Ann went on, her eyes straying down to the growing shaft of his awakening cock. “Doing without for a week or so certainly didn’t hinder your performance!”
“Why should it?” Jeff teased, leaning back, his eyes closing in contentment. “I just have to think about you to get a hard-on, and besides, for the last couple of days, I’ve been thinking about getting acquainted with your new friend’s young wife!”
“Oh!” Ann said, trying to keep her voice nonchalant, but unable to suppress a touch of jealousy from creeping into it.
“Yes, from her photo, she looks like, a real doll!” Jeff continued, thinking of the fair, angelic beauty of Pitt’s wife, as he had glimpsed it in the photograph. “I bet she has a nice, soft ass, round and shapely, just…”
“Oh all right, all right!” Ann interrupted, her fingers tightening around Jeff’s expanding member. “You don’t have to go into details!”
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous!” Jeff laughed as his hand reached down and caressed the soft curve of his wife’s molded hip.
“Jealous of a little teenage chit?” Ann laughed, her voice scornful. “Let me tell you, my dear, that experience counts for most in bed!”
“Don’t tell me, prove it!” Jeff laughed, delighted by his wife’s jealousy.
“What, again?” Ann smiled, her face softening in expectation of pleasure.
“Yes, I mean to call on that little blonde this afternoon, and this way I’ll be sure to remember what you said about experience!”
“Okay, baby,” Ann purred, her fingers like feathers on his excitedly palpitating prick, “when I’m through with you, nothing will make you forget it, not even that cute Mrs. Pitt…”
The thoughts of revenge she had nurtured the previous night fled from Sandy’s mind the next morning as she went about her household tasks. That emotion was replaced with a depressing listlessness and her chores were punctuated with great sighs of unhappiness. Harry had tried to make up with her before he left for work, but his apologies had somehow left her cold.
“I’ll make it up to you, honey, I swear!” he had promised, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything, and her disinterest and lethargy had only succeeded in angering him.
“Why don’t you say something?” he’d yelled at her. “There’s no need to act like a goddamned martyr!”
But she couldn’t even accuse him or make him feel guilty. It would have been better if she could, she knew, because shouting would probably relieve her pent-up feelings. Anything, she felt, would be preferable to the numbness she felt. When he finally left, she was conscious of considerable relief. She was glad to be able to sip her coffee alone in the kitchen, and then slip into the bathroom to take the bath which her tired, drained body badly needed.
She had badly wanted to feel the refreshing tingling of a hot bath last night when Harry had finally slunk off into the bedroom, but all her energy was drained from her, and she could only drag herself into bed as well, sleeping as far as she could over on the other side of the large bed.
Now, thankfully, she took off her robe, and when the bath was filling, the lavender-scented bubbled permeating the air, she examined her body in the full length mirror. It seemed to her that it was different, that the debauched act of the night before had left its mark on her. There were several bruises, already purpling, dark, angry smudges, and the aureola around her nipples appeared to be swollen and discolored from her husband’s savage bites there. But it wasn’t only the bruises that the savage act had marked her with. Her body seemed to have undergone some kind of subtle change, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. Shrugging, she stepped into the bath, conscious of the slightly sore twinge in her rectum, a very tangible reminder of the violation she had suffered there. Much later, when Sandy was busy writing to her parents, the buzzer sounded. She felt much better after her bath, and she had decided to herself that she would try and put last night’s terrible occurrence out of her mind. Opening the apartment door, she was a little surprised to see a stranger standing there, smiling affably at her.
“Good afternoon, I’m Jeff Green. You must be Mrs. Pitt – Sandy!” the man said in a smooth practiced voice.
Sandy felt herself stiffen involuntarily, thinking immediately that he must be selling something, and determined to give him short shrift.
“Yes, I’m Mrs. Pitt, but…”
“May I come in?” Jeff went on, edging his way in the door, “I’m a friend of Harry’s.”
“Yes, in that case,” Sandy replied tonelessly, “do come in.”
Jeff quickly stepped inside and glanced appreciatively around the apartment.
“Nice cozy little place you’ve got here!” he complimented, and Sandy felt a little better. “These needlepoints are particularly charming! They must have cost a lot of money!”
“W-well,” Sandy began, blushingly pleased at his remarks, “actually, I did them myself!” she confessed shyly.
“Really?” Jeff gushed, his eyes roaming over the young wife’s shapely body. “You must be very clever with your hands!”
Sandy felt herself loosening up as she urged her guest to sit down, and then offered him a drink. After all, she assured herself, he is a friend of Harry's…
“Oh, thank you very much,” Jeff answered, “a little soda with that Scotch for me!”
He sat back comfortably, as he waited for Sandy to return with the drinks. A real cute little number, all right, he mused to himself, better even than her photograph. Ann may be right when she says there’s no substitute for experience, but a little of that sweet, angelic innocence sure is nice! Sandy reappeared just then, and Jeff’s eyes opened wide as he scrutinized her lithe, slim figure, perfectly accentuated by the cotton shirtwaister she was wearing. It was a light beige color, and instead of making her appear wishy-washy, as it might have done, it emphasized the flawless cream of her skin and the lustrous velvet of her large brown eyes.
Sandy handed Jeff his drink and began to sip her own mild Scotch and ginger ale.
“How… where did you meet Harry?” she began hesitantly, realizing that Harry had never mentioned him.
“We shared a cell in jail!” Jeff laughed, never taking his eyes from Sandy’s still-pale face, “and let me tell you, that’s a sure way of really getting to know someone!”
“I imagine it is!” Sandy conceded, and then queried, puzzled: “When were you released?”
“OH, just this morning,” Jeff answered, “and, man, does it feel good to be out!”
Now that she thought about it, Sandy remembered that Harry had mentioned “Jeff”, and she studied this man who was her husband’s cell-mate for the weekend. She had to admit that he was quite good-looking, in an older sophisticated kind of way, and she couldn’t help wondering what he was in prison for.
“…and so I decided to pay you a visit,” he was saying, and Sandy realized she hadn’t been listening to what he was telling her.
“Yes, Harry was very worried about you; kept wondering if you were all right!” Jeff assured her.
Sandy felt a tightening of her muscles. So he was worried about her, while he was in jail, was he? Then why hadn’t he come directly home, and why had he been so bad-tempered when he did? What was the reason for it?
Jeff had noticed the blanching of her features and suppressed a tight smile. So the young newlyweds had come to blows?…
“Excuse me,” he said in a light silky voice, “I hope I haven’t said anything to upset you?”
“No, no, of course not… it’s just that… Sandy mumbled, not knowing what to say.
“Are things all right between you and Harry? I know it’s no business of mine, but I’m really fond of Harry, and, well, we were pretty close while we were in the cooler!”
Sandy looked as if she were about to cry, and Jeff thought that her misery enhanced her frail beauty. He couldn’t take his eyes away from her sensuous young breasts which were thrusting against the cotton of her dress, and the smooth expanse of thigh which was revealed as the hem of her dress rode up her legs, excited him in a thrilling sort of way. She was obviously very agitated and Jeff knew that he had hit on what was bothering her.
“Look honey,” he began again, “I’m a lot older than you and besides, I’ve been married a long time, and I can assure you that in a few days, you won’t even remember what you and Harry quarreled about!”
It seemed to Sandy that Jeff had edged closer to her on the sofa, but somehow, his presence was comforting.
“Why, when I think of the times I thought I could never look at my wife again…”
“Oh, but what he did was so terrible…” Her voice, high-pitched and tremulous, trailed off as she realized that she had almost disclosed the dreadful thing that had happened. No matter what, she could never tell anybody about it. It was too shameful, too embarrassing.
“Maybe you’d feel better if you talked about it!” Jeff said, feigning an avuncular manner.
“N-no, it’s all right… would you like another drink?” Sandy stuttered, glad of an excuse now to change the subject.
Harry assented, and she hurried out to the kitchen, and poured one for her guest and another heavy one for herself. She also took a quick swallow from the bottle trying to compose herself as she returned to the living-room.
“There’s no need to feel bad,” Jeff soothed. “everybody has quarrels from time to time. We’re none of us saints!”
“No, that’s true… “ Sandy smiled a little ruefully. She was feeling better, and in her slightly fuzzy stupor from the alcohol, was glad now that this nice man had decided to visit her. Tonight, when Harry came home, she’d tell him about it, and tell him she was sorry for the way she behaved, and he'd apologize also, and then things would be back to normal… a newlywed’s quarrel, quickly blown over.
Then suddenly, Sandy stiffened, dragging her mind back to the present, an icy finger clutching at her heart as she wondered, in her reverie, if she had just imagined the touch of a hard, masculine hand on her thigh.
She turned to Jeff, her eyes wide and questioning, and found he was smiling easily at her.
“Ah, there… I can see you feel better now!” he was murmuring, his voice low and soft, with a strange hypnotic ring to it. Sandy’s eyes dropped and she drew in her breath as she saw his hand, hair and brown, gliding friendly-like across the naked flesh of her thigh. She stared at it in something akin to horror, her brain not registering the fact that the strange crawling sensation she was experiencing, the little chill of sensual pleasure she was feeling was caused by this man, a near stranger’s hand coolly stroking her naked leg as though… as though she were a whore…
She stared at him again, hardly daring to believe what was happening. His voice was still smooth and oily in her ear, his mouth close to her face.
“Harry is so lucky to have such a lovely wife…” Worst of all was her apparent acceptance of his illicit caresses. What was the matter with her, allowing herself to be stroked by another man in this wanton way. Her brain was dimly aware of a feeling of disgust, dislike, risking danger, but her body seemed to be possessed of a will of its own, and seemed to revel in this mesmerizing fondling of her thigh.
Oh God, it must be the liquor! she wildly assured herself, unable to believe that she was actually sitting there not moving and actually enjoying the lewd tinglings which were erupting over her soft warm skin.
Jeff’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly, tantalizing the resilient inner flesh of her quivering thigh, and he noticed the signs of conflict on her face. She’s trying to fight it… he murmured to himself, delighted with the progress he was making. It won 't be long now until I have this hot little cookie right where I want her … she’s givin’ me drinks and everything …
The slight pressure she felt as Jeff squeezed his fingers, awoke a deeper chord in Sandy, and for a moment, her brain was imbued with startling clarity. Oh, God, what was this man doing, petting her like that, in that obscenely familiar way?
“H-how dare you?” she shrieked at him with sudden vehemence, her eyes blazing, her face white with anger.
“Oh come on, baby, you like it, you know you do… “he began, a little perturbed by her sudden outburst.
“Take your hands off me, and get out of my house… before I call the police!” she threatened, her voice livid.
“But, baby… you was liking it… “Green began, unable to believe her sudden change of heart.
“Get out! Get ouT!” she sobbed hysterically, and watched as Jeff, stunned by this unexpected turn of events, rose from the sofa and walked with a confused look on his face towards the living-room door. In a moment, he had left, and Sandy heard his hurried footsteps on the stairs.
With a sob of anguish, she rushed towards the bedroom, and crumpled in a heap on the bed, her body wracked with sobs, her brain a ferment of self-loathing and bewilderment at the momentary lapse in her moral structure that had occurred a few short seconds ago…