Jill Parker stared miserably at the ceiling above her head, and trembled underneath the thin bedspread. Her mind raced wildly from one contrary emotion to the next, tripping over her conscience, stumbling continually against the shameful image of what she had allowed to be done to her that day. And always, her thoughts found no escape, no refuge from the awful realization that something terrible was happening to her. Something over which she had absolutely no control. Jill tossed and turned on the bed, trying to think of some solution, but none came to her. Instead she could think of nothing but the horrible events of that morning.
After the episode in the living room with Harry Sommers, Jill had been overwhelmed by a sense of shame and debasement. She and Harry had quickly dressed themselves and left the cottage, to avoid discovery by Jill's husband and Harry's wife, who were at that moment themselves spent by the violence of their fierce passion. Harry had invited her up to the bar for another drink, but Jill had curtly refused, and gone by herself for a long walk along the edge of a beautiful stream that ran through the artificially irrigated plushness of Hidden Valley Resort's large acreage. By the time she'd returned, and timidly knocked at the door to her cottage before entering, Tom and Gay were gone.
And now, huddled in her bed, Jill's mind was tormented by a sick, intense self-hate once again, now that she had returned to the world of the rational. She knew she had committed an unforgivable sin, that of adultery, infidelity; and she knew that something was terribly wrong with her, emotionally. Perhaps she needed psychiatric help, perhaps she was actually some kind of psychotic. How else could she explain to herself her actions: allowing a near stranger to take her from the rear, while she watched her own husband engaged in doing the self same obscene act with the other man's wife?
Jill moaned aloud, wretchedly. She didn't know what to do, whom to turn to. She was alone and soiled and evil now, and there was no one to whom she could go who would offer her sympathy in the time of this terrible crisis. Not Tom, oh God surely not Tom! He was as guilty as she, as evilly wicked as she, and it didn't matter which of them had taken the first step.
It would not be so terrible, so encompassingly monstrous, if she had failed to experience any pleasure from her transgression with Harry Sommers… if she had failed to have the awesomely rapturous orgasm, that she undeniably had, had.
Jill's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Tom entering their cottage. He made a good deal of noise coming in, slamming the door open so that the knob slapped hard against the inner wall and then whipping it shut with a reverberating crash. His footsteps, coming toward the bedroom, were heavy and angry and somehow foreboding.
Then he suddenly appeared in the doorway, his lips set tightly and his eyes glowing with anger. His hands were clenched into fists, and a tic made the left side of his face spasm grotesquely. Lying on the bed, Jill's eyes locked with those of her husband as he advanced toward her; she was afraid, for she knew what was about to happen, the confrontation which was about to take place between them and the extent of Tom's volatile anger… and yet, strangely, she wasn't afraid of him at all, wasn't afraid of physical harm or of the words which were sure to be said. That paradoxical and ambivalent mixture of feelings made her very calm, but also very rigid.
When Tom reached the side of the bed, he stopped and glared malice down at his lovely young wife.
"You goddamned cheating bitch!" he said in a cold, soft, bitter voice. "You good for nothing tramp. Fucking another man! Giving him what you refused to give me all the time we've been married!"
Jill just lay there, meeting his gaze. She deserved his wrath, just as he deserved hers. Neither of them was blameless. And yet, she hoped very much that through some strange act of fate this mutual infidelity of theirs might have broken down the wall which had grown between them. Because she loved him, loved him now more than ever before. But even as she thought these things, Jill felt an ominous voice of doom prophesying that her hopes were vain ones, and that by reason of what had happened today, the last possible hope of a re-establishment of their love and their marriage was forever cast to the wind.
"Oh yes," Tom said contemptuously as he loomed over her. "I know what you did last night, my sweet little slut of a wife. I know that you let Harry Sommers fuck you. I know because I saw part of what you did in some pictures the bastard arranged; seems his wife got hold of them and came to me.
"And what did you do then?" asked Jill very softly.
"What the hell do you mean, what did I do then?"
"You fucked her, didn't you, Tom?" Jill said, only a little surprised at the ease with which the obscene word came from her lips. "You fucked Gay Sommers."
Tom recoiled as if he had been struck, and some of the high flush of anger receded from his cheeks. His lower lips seemed to quiver. He was shocked both by his wife's use of the word fuck, a word which she had always hated before now, and by her apparent knowledge of his unfaithfulness.
"How…" he stammered, "how did you…?"
"How did I know?" Jill asked with a sad, humorless smile. "I know because I saw you, Tom. I saw you fucking her. I saw you and I was sick and aroused, and Harry Sommers gave me some drinks so that I was drunk, too. Do you know what I did then? I let Harry fuck me from behind, like one animal fucks another, right there in the doorway, while I watched you! I let him do the thing you thought he'd done to me last night, the thing Irefusedto let him do last night."
Tom's handsome, ruddy face was a mask of confusion; he didn't understand, couldn't comprehend, the magnitude of what his wife was saying. And then, one irrefutable fact of her confession seeped into his brain: she had willingly given herself to Harry Sommers while watching him and Gay!
"You god damn whore slut bitch!" he screamed in mindless, irrational rage. His pride was crushed by her bland admission of guilt
"Yes, that's exactly what I am Tom" Jill said with tears in her eyes. "But are you any better? Aren't we one and the same thing?"
"No!" he bellowed. But, deep down inside, he knew that she was right he was no better than she, no better to have allowed Gay to seduce him, to have given in to his animal instincts in spite of himself He could no longer be righteously indignant, for he had committed the same sin as his wife, had done what she had done and he knew it. And yet, somehow, his masculine ego Wouldn't allow him to be rational on the subject. He had to strike out at her, punish her, hurt her in some way..
The thought came all at once and consumed him with a raging fire of anger and lust. He would rape. her, as he had raped her last night, really give it to her, punish her and hurt her for what she had done to him. He felt his dully pulsating penis leap to life in his pants, and his hands came up and began to unbutton his shirt while he leered down at his wife, all reason gone from his mind now in the face of this one, all consuming action.
"What… what are you going to do, Tom?" Jill pleaded hesitantly, staring up at him, suddenly fearful again.
"I'm going to fuck you," he hissed. "I'm going to fuck you like Sommers fucked you."
"Tom, no… Oh God, no."
"Why not? I'll bet you didn't tell Harry no."
"Not this way, please not through anger and hate… darling… we can work this out.
"The hell not this way!" Tom had his shirt off now, and he was working on his trousers.
Momentarily, he was naked, his immense, angrily swollen cock popping out from his loins like some impossibly rigid snake, the first faint traces of his complete arousal evident as lubricating fluid sheened the lust bloated tip. He stood there for a moment, and then he reached down and pulled the bedspread away from his wife's huddled form.
Surprise registered on Tom's face as he saw that Jill was completely naked, but then it was replaced by renewed fury as he comprehended why. He threw himself down on the bed, brutally grasped her sensually ripened body, and pressed his rock-hard penis against her velvety warm thigh as one hand closed over one of her proud young breasts.
Jill felt her husband's warmly beating cock pressing against her nakedly defenseless thigh, and suddenly, incredibly, she felt a stirring of passion in her innermost recesses! But… but that wasn't possible! How could she be aroused? No, it must be something else, something else other than passion… but no, no, he was squeezing and manipulating her sensitive breasts and the nipple had grown into rigidity and the pulsating hardness against her leg felt hot and exciting and enticing. She felt her so recently ravished vagina begin to heatedly moisten her inner walls, and her clitoris tingled with delicious anticipation. She wanted him! Dear God, impossible though it was, she wanted him… wanted him more than she had ever thought it possible to want him… or any man. She wanted him in spite of the fact that she knew he was about to rape her, was about to hurt her! Something had happened to her, all right; there was no denying it now. Some strange and inexplicable transformation had occurred in her body, brought about by Harry Sommer's thick bludgeoning cock inside her sensually awakened cunt and her own magnificent orgasm, causing her to want and need and desire sexual gratification even under the most adverse of circumstances… Yes, and to desire her husband, to desire Tom for the first real time since they had been married..
Tom, holding her, kissing her neck and her nakedly uplifted breasts in careless abandon, now sensed a certain relaxing in Jill, sensed more than a submission, what was really a joining in, but his mind refused to dwell on it at that moment. Another thought had given birth there, and it was all-consuming.
He was going to kiss his wife's cunt!
It was a desire he had long harbored, a desire which at times was acutely intense, for she had such a sweet little cunt, and he knew that to kiss and lick and suck it would be sheer heaven. He had broached the subject to her before, but she had always refused, saying that was a perversion, a sick, filthy thing that only whores and their pimps allowed to happen between them. Well, he wasn't a pimp, and he'd gone down on a few women before he was married; it wasn't a perversion, and it sure as hell wasn't filthy. It was one of the truly great experiences a man could have; and a woman…
His massively excited cock throbbing with the pure salaciousness of the idea, Tom raised up, breaking his embrace, and leered down into the sweat-moistened face of his beautiful young wife.
"You know what I'm going to do now?" he asked with panting harshness. "I'm going to go down on you, Jill. I'm going to put my mouth on your pussy, and lick and suck you between your legs with my lips and my tongue!"
The sheer obsceneness of his words caused Jill to gasp, her eyes going wide. No, no! she thought in horror. No, that… that's sick. that's evil and wrong. I won `t allow you to put your mouth on me THERE, to kiss me like that and put your tongue inside me, kiss me and lick me and suckle me, kiss me, kiss me.
And suddenly, the horror was no more. In its place, fully and beyond recall, there came new strangely reeling waves of shameless passion. In her mind, then, Jill could picture her husband's head bobbing and slaving down there between her widespread legs, his warm wet tongue licking and sucking… And she could feel his moistly ovalled mouth on her, could feel his tongue flicking into her… Oh God, it was wrong and lewd and perverse, but she knew that she wanted him to do it, wanted him to kiss her that way and make her have another orgasm… she knew she not only could but would have another one, whether from his penis or his mouth. she had to have an orgasm, a better one than that she had achieved with Harry Sommers, with her husband; she suddenly realized that, because therein lay the answer to the saving of their marriage! So simple, all so simple, and so workable, too, because she was different somehow, a different and emancipated woman inside..
She opened her eyes and looked into Tom's face and said, "Yes, my darling, yes-yes-yes! Put your mouth on my vagina, kiss it and lick it!" she undulated her hips in an unconcealed eagerness, splaying her legs wide to reveal the naked, hair-fringed expanse of her heatedly moistened cunt. "I want you to, I want you to!"
Tom stared at her, aghast. Jesus Christ! Had he heard right? Had she actually… actually said that she wanted him to go down on her? Some of the rage drained out of him, and he stared at her with a mixture of incredulity and growing heat on his face. "You can't… mean that, Jill. he managed.
"Yes, yes, I mean it! Put your head down between my thighs, kiss my cunt, Tom darling, hurry and kiss it! I'm dying to feel your wonderful kisses there."
Her eyes were closed in passion, and her hands were moving convulsively up and down over her smooth curving hips in anticipation, her naked buttocks almost obscenely twisting and lifting off the bed. He couldn't fathom this complete reversal in his heretofore cold and unresponsive wife, and the confusion dissolved most of the anger he felt at her infidelity, dissolved the need to strike back at her for what he had felt was a slight on his masculine pride. Now, there was only the uncertainty of the change in her, the complete reversal of form… and yes, there was the passion too, brought about by her concession to him, her begging him to perform an act on her that she had always thought to be too vulgar, her wanton twisting and contorting on the bed in an obvious uncontrolled lust.
And then, with his long thick cock hammering excitedly, and his sperm-bloated balls aching for release, Tom's lustful excitement grew in increasing measures. Suddenly, he didn't care about anything except going down on his wife, kissing her succulent young cunt as she had begged him to do, kissing her and kissing her and making her cum, making her respond to him for the first time.
Quickly, breathing in ragged gasps, Tom slid down on the bed until he was poised between her wide stretched and trembling legs. He stared down at her prominent pubic mound and the softly wet pinkish slit hidden below the softly curling hairs, and her clitoris like a quivering miniature phallus nestled there in moist passion. He could wait no longer then, and with a little cry of intense and long denied hunger, he pressed his lips forward and skewered his hot, hard wet tongue deep into the warmly perfumed recesses of her honey sweet cuntal channel.
"Aaaaaaaahhhhh!" screamed Jill in rapture as she felt for the first time the exquisite sensation of a man's tongue being thrust into her hotly throbbing vagina. Her body convulsively jerked and her legs shot upward and pulled back so that her knees rested against her trembling, hard-nippled breasts – presenting the full naked panorama of her eager young cunt to his mouth.
Tom reveled in his young wife's soft open furrow, his wetly ovalled lips and tongue making obscene wanton slurping sounds. His hands curled around her passionately trembling legs, pulling her firm young thighs close to the sides of his head to imprison it between them, and his fingers slipped into the valley between her sweat-sheened ass cheeks to pull her desire soaked vaginal slit wider still to the lewd oral penetration of her genitals. His fleshy tongue lapped upward and located the erect button of her clitoris; he used his teeth to nip it excruciatingly. She cried out in agonizing pleasure at the contact, and jerked hard at his hair as he licked and nibbled at the sensitive nub of her womanhood.
Jill's long, honey colored hair whipped from side to side on the pillow, and she heaved and bucked her nakedly excited cunt tight up against his face, squeezing his ears with her inner thighs. Oh God, it was better than she imagined it would be! How could she have so long denied her husband and herself this wondrous experience? It felt as if his tongue were a hot poker invading her genitals, but such a deliciously sweet hot poker that she never wanted it to be removed… how could anything this tremendously pleasurable be wrong and wicked, as she was taught to believe, as she so long accepted with blind faith..
Faster and deeper and harder was Tom's mouth fucking his lovely wife's flailing body now, sliding his long hard shaft far into her wetly clasping vaginal orifice, tasting her secretions, like ambrosia in his mouth. His face was wet with her scented cuntal juices and with the sweat of his passion, and her cunt smelled as sweet as perfume, as sweet as wildflowers in spring, and her cunt hair and pussylips were softer than a baby's skin against his cheeks and nose and lips. He kneaded and manipulated deeper and deeper in her hotly throbbing vaginal passage, and it was just as he had long known it would be, this licking and sucking between his wife's widespread legs. She'd changed… it was impossible, but it was true and he had never been more thankful… Jesus, this was what he had waited all these years for, this moment, this responsiveness, this bliss and fulfilling experience of togetherness. His tongue leapt into the searingly liquid depths of her cunt again and again, and she cried out for him, screamed his name as he fucked her time and again with his hot tongue and burning wet lips. In her mindless passion, she pulled loose tufts of his hair, pounded her heels on his back, jerked and twisted and wantonly bucked her naked young body hard up against his voracious mouth's merciless assault on her loins.
Jill's mind was like a soaring eagle, flying far and high, farther and higher than any other mortal creature or human… had ever dared to ascend before. The episode with Harry Sommers was nothing compared to this! She could feel her orgasm coming closer and closer… oh God, she was almost there, almost there! It was going to be the most incredible and beautiful moment imaginable..
She screamed Tom's name over and over again, screamed out her newfound passion and newfound ideal: "I'm going to cum, going to cum my darling, I'm going to cummmmmm, aaaaaggggggghhhhhhh!"
And she was there, cumming, cumming to make that which she had known with Harry seem to be a frustration emptiness, cumming with her husband's hot, slavering, feverishly-darting tongue swirling around deep in her wildly rejoicing vagina and his warm wonderful lips glued to her quivering pussylips while his hands squeezed and kneaded her soft white flesh. She screamed again and again, and then she was soaring farther and higher than any other creature, mortal or human, had ever soared before, flying free and superbly emancipated there among the drifting, soft white clouds.
She came back slowly, ever so slowly, and lay with Tom's head cradled in her wetly pulsating loins and his saliva mixing with the secretions of her incredible orgasm. They lay there like that for a time, and then, tenderly, lovingly, she drew him up over her and with an exploratory hand found that his desire-hardened penis was still rigid and trembling. He had not had his release, and she wanted him to know some semblance of that which she had just known.
"Fuck me, Tom," she whispered softly into his ear, a smile of true peace of her face. "Fuck me now, my darling."
"Will… will you… be able to cum with me?" he panted.
"Yes, darling. Oh yes, yes, yes!"
And he fucked her… no, loved her, for it was more now than a mere physical gratification on both their parts, it was love. He made love to her, and she went soaring again when he emptied his sperm-heavy balls far up into her wildly ecstatic vagina moments later, soaring higher even than the last time.
And higher still the next time they made love that night, and higher the next, and still higher the next.