Laura Wilson sat dumbly at the table in her immaculate kitchen, staring stupidly at the broken pieces of china that covered the freshly waxed floor. That was the third plate she'd broken that afternoon, and the crash had made her tense nerves even tighter, and more strained.
As she bent to the floor to pick up the pieces, Laura looked up at the kitchen clock, and then sighed to herself with resignation. Bill would be home any moment now – he'd just called from the airport that he was taking a taxi home – and she wondered if she could face him. She gazed around the freshly scrubbed kitchen, and realized that all the house cleaning in the world would never make her feel any more guiltless when she greeted her husband.
The few days since her experience with her neighbor, George Farrington, had been spent indoors: watching television, sleeping fitfully, or simply sitting for hours on end, staring straight ahead, thinking of absolutely nothing. She didn't really trust herself to go outdoors. She didn't want to see or talk to anyone, especially her next door neighbors, and she was terrified that George might try to call her or see her. At least that hadn't happened… one small bit of light in an otherwise somber few days.
Laura finished picking up the scattered pieces of broken plate almost mechanically, throwing them into the garbage can with the remains of the earlier ones she'd broken, and sat down again at the kitchen table, smoothing her freshly ironed skirt out across her lap with unconscious precision. As she sat, from all outward appearances perfectly composed and calm, her mind raced through a maze of conflicting emotions, bounced off the contradictory explanations of what had happened to her the last few days, and finally came to rest on the motives for her actions: motives which, for her, were still painfully unclear. Why had she done it? What was she going to tell Bill, for he would surely find out by himself in due time: George Farrington would see to that. And worst of all, how was she going to rid herself of the awful hold her lascivious neighbor had over her, his chance knowledge of her husband's run-in with the law in San Francisco?
All these questions tangled themselves together in maddening and conflicting patterns, filling Laura's mind and heart with an almost tangible pain, a tightness that threatened suddenly to choke her. And then, as spontaneously as they had come, those patterns were vaporized by the sound of a loud greeting from the living room, and the slamming of the heavy front door.
"Hello? Laura? I'm home, honey!!!!"
Laura felt her body freeze, then thaw, then turn reluctantly toward the kitchen door and her husband's voice. Well, she thought to herself wryly, it won't be long now.
"Laura?" Bill called out again. "Are you home?"
"Yes, darling," Laura felt the pressure against her vocal cords, heard the sound of her words, but didn't really feel as though she were speaking. "I'm out in the kitchen."
The kitchen door swung open with a crash, and Laura's husband strode into the room, his face illuminated by a huge, happy grin.
"Hey, no flowers for the returning hero? No kisses?"
Laura suddenly rushed forward and threw herself into her husband's arms, pressing her lips against his as though it might blot out all the anguish she'd been living the past few days; as though she could lose herself in him, and thereby escape herself.
"All right!" Bill exclaimed, "that's more like it! How's my little angel been?"
Laura didn't answer at first, his question again raising the awful spectre of her guilt before her.
"Fine," she finally managed. "And how were things in Dallas?"
Bill smiled broadly, and led his wife to a kitchen chair, where he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. One arm snaked around her slender waist, the other rubbed soothingly against the smooth material covering her soft, ivory thigh.
"It went well, honey. It really did. I learned a lot these past few days… about a lot of things. I can't tell you really what I learned, because I don't really know myself. All I know is, I saw men older then myself, men who'd been working their hearts out for ten, twenty, even thirty years – and all they had to show for it were ulcers, insomnia, and an expensive capacity for hard liquor. It was an eye-opener, Laura, it really was."
"But what about the other thing," Laura asked breathlessly. "Did anybody recognize you, or say anything, or…"
"No, not a soul!" Bill laughed out loud. "You know, by the time I got off the plane in Dallas, I'd already worked up my resignation speech for my boss, saying how awful it was that a guy could never get a second break in this world; I was convinced someone would be there who recognized me, and I went to the first meeting just wondering who it would be – trying to guess which of those guys would be the one to wreck my life this time. And nothing happened, honey! Nobody said a thing!"
"Oh, Bill!"
"Do you realize what that means, sweetheart? We don't have to be afraid anymore! We can go on just like nothing had ever happened. Oh, I swear to you, Laura, I'm the happiest man in the world at this moment!"
Laura responded to her husband's enthusiastic embrace, and yet her heart was splitting inside her. Oh Bill, she was crying through her closed eyes to him, we're not safe! We do have to be afraid! We aren't free at all! George Farrington knows, Bill – he knows! The pretty young wife's mind was tortured by the realization that their neighbor was far more serious and dangerous an adversary than some faceless man at a business convention could ever be: because he was sadistically out to control their present as well as their future.
"What's the matter, honey? You're not saying very much."
"Nothing at all," Laura lied, snapping to attention. "I was just listening to you. I haven't had a chance to say anything."
"So I talk too much," Bill kidded. "Well, enough of this talking. Let's get down to some serious business." He pulled her close to him and kissed her hard on the mouth, completely surprising her. Laura let him continue, but didn't return the kiss. Besides the fact that her mind was tormented by thoughts of their neighbor George Farrington, she wasn't going to let her husband get off the hook so easily for not making love to her for so long.
"It's been awhile," Bill whispered. "It's been an awful long while, and I know that's my fault. I have been so tired trying to work sixteen hours a day. But from now on, honey, you are going to see a big difference in me, I swear it. That's one of the things I learned in Dallas, Laura. If you give everything to your business, it leaves you empty and only half-alive. And that's not going to happen around here anymore, believe me."
Bill's apology surprised his wife, and she wanted desperately to believe him. But she wanted something more to do with it, too. After all, she had put up with his neglect for a long time, and she should have something to say about it. But she didn't resist as, wordlessly, he took her hand and led her toward the stairs. Her tormented mind did not want to make love, but her lonely body needed him desperately. She held back as he started to climb the stairs to their bedroom.
"What's wrong, Laura?" Bill asked, turning to her.
"Nothing… I… there's just so much I have to talk to you about…"
"Can't it wait?" Bill smiled suggestively.
Laura paused, gazing up into her husband's eyes. "I love you, darling," she finally said.
"And, I love you and that's all that matters," Bill replied.
Laura responded dutifully as he kissed her gently on the lips. She wanted him so badly, but her conscience still fought her desire, her thoughts turning to George Farrington again, and what had happened only a few nights ago in the back seat of his sleek convertible. She still remembered the erotic pleasure of his expert kisses, the unbelievable excitement of his huge cock as it had slipped inside her, hurting her and yet bringing pleasure at the same time. She could not forget the degradation he had submitted her to, but somehow the thought still managed to excite her. And even now, with her eyes closed, she could imagine the man who was holding her was her neighbor, not her husband.
"Let's go to bed," Bill said, waking her from her illicit dream. The pressure of his husky voice on her ear awakened the only barely suppressed desires within her, and she could feel her honey-brown nipples tighten beneath her lightweight housedress. He held her tightly to his side and their legs rubbed sensuously together, exciting her even more as they walked up the steps to their darkened bedroom.
Laura felt her husband's large hand cup her smooth breasts, covered only by the thin material of her dress, as he stepped slightly to the side and let her go through the door before him. This was the room in which George Farrington had defiled her marital bed, was the first thought that came to Laura's mind. This was the room where she had become nothing more then a lusting animal and sucked at his steel-hard cock almost greedily. And now she felt her mouth again begin to involuntarily salivate and she knew she wanted to suck Bill now, suck him even as she had her sadistic neighbor: but she knew that she could not, not unless he tried something first. She dared not to do anything that would reveal to her husband that she had been unfaithful. She knew she never could let him know about George and the threat he posed to their lives. What was she going to do?
"You'll never need a brassiere," Bill said to her in the darkness. "You're perfect."
His hand at her firm breasts kneaded the softly pliant flesh, reminding her that her desire still lived within her. Perfect? she thought bitterly, and smiled at him in the afternoon light that filtered through the closed drapes. If you only knew what an animal I've become. And there's nothing I can do about it. Oh, Bill, what have I done to you? What have I done to both of us?
The trembling young wife put her arm around her husband's powerful waist as they walked toward the bed, her other hand rubbing across the growing bulge in his trousers as she reached to unfasten his belt. She must try to make him happy; she must try to be a good lover for him, and then somehow, some way, they would make out all right.
The young couple stood facing each other as they worked at each other's clothing. Hurriedly, Bill unfastened her dress and let it fall to the floor, at the same time kicking off his pants, which she'd unsnapped and unzipped. His shirt came off quickly and he kneeled to slide her silk panties from the soft swell of her ivory hips. The sweet scent of the dampness that was flooding her desperately yearning vagina entered his dilated nostrils as he pulled the panties downward and kissed her belly, nibbling at the golden skin above the silky pubic hairs that glistened in their clean blondeness.
Kiss me lower, darling, Laura prayed silently to herself. Do what George did, please! Make me want you more than I wanted him!
The long time without sex had caught up with Bill. The more than a month away from her had left him filled with desire, his throbbingly erect penis felt now as if it were going to burst… and she had not even touched it yet in its fully naked state. He could sense himself being filled with a rising torrent of passion that he could not hold back, and there was no method, no plan to his love-making. He was guided only by what was closest, and at that moment the softly wet lips of her moistly flowing vagina were nearer to him than anything. Not thinking that his wife might reject him, he lowered his head a few inches and started to nuzzle his nose between her legs into the silky resilient hair that covered the enticingly raised mound of her womanhood.
Instead of being revolted as she had always been, Laura found herself further excited by the fact that her husband was venturing into hitherto forbidden territory, that he was going to do it to her just like George had! Her straining heart pounded at a furious rate as she felt his nose slide through the dew-dropped pubic hair between her trembling legs, and part it gently for an infinitesimal moment. But then, immediately, he pushed her back softly onto the bed, and she fell with her legs spread wide resting most of her weight back on her shoulders as she lifted her quivering hips to open herself to his probing mouth.
"Oooohhhhhhh," she moaned lasciviously. "Don't stop, darling. That's soooooooo good."
Bill was too engrossed to be surprised at his pleading wife's actions. He thought that his wife, too, had been without sex all this time and would be ready for anything. He would not even be surprised if, in order to satisfy herself, she had been masturbating during their month long abstention. The thought of Laura finger-fucking herself brought an involuntary twitch to his blood-filled penis, already jerking in anticipation of what was to come, and he nuzzled in closer, his tongue licking wetly at the smoothly pink flesh that enclosed the puckered hair-lined opening to her beckoning vagina. Then, pulling himself up so that he too was completely on the bed, he felt her tugging desperately at him, urging him to turn his muscular body so that she could also indulge in sucking him.
God, Bill thought to himself, she's really ready. I've never seen her like this before. Eagerly, he turned so that his massively thrusting cock neared her swaying head, pulling at her phallus-like clitoris with pursed lips at the same time, torturing the moistly throbbing bud until Laura thought she could no longer stand it.
"Oh, my darling," the quivering young woman gasped aloud as she pulled her husband's aching shaft of flesh toward her pursed lips and, with a lascivious groan, sucked the huge, bulbous head into her moist warm mouth at once, swirling her tongue around it voraciously.
"Ooooooohhhhhh, baby," Bill moaned in ecstasy, feeling her hot lips hungrily caress the length of his painfully hardened cock. Her sharp teeth toyed carefully with the edges of his sensitive glans-eye, like razor blades cutting into the swollen flesh, and she gulped at him lovingly, even though her mouth was not as full as it had been with George's great cock. This was better, because this was the man she loved! The man she really loved!
The young husband pointed his tongue and expertly entered the openly waiting passageway to his wife's velvety soft insides, her silky flesh burning at his touch. The tongue circled quickly around the inner flesh of her seeping vagina, while he sucked at her with steadily increasing fervor.
"Oh, darling," Laura gasped, uncontrollably. "Oh, George, please hurry, George…"
George! The name lanced through Bill's brain like a pistol shot. George! She had called him George! His huge cock suddenly deflated like a burst balloon in her mouth and her lower jaw dropped at the sudden shriveling of his rock-hard penis, unaware in her wild sexual reverie of what she had said. Bill raised himself on the bed and looked at his wife incredulously. His eyes red with hurt and anger, sheltered by arched brows that could have belonged to Satan himself.
"You called me 'George'," he said, almost in a whisper.
Laura's face turned to a mask of terror as she remembered. She had said George! Oh God, it was over: she was exposed and vulnerable, and from the enraged look on her husband's face, she thought she might never get the chance to explain before, in his wild, jealous rage he killed her. She froze as he suddenly lifted himself erect on his knees.
"YOU BITCH!" her distraught husband screamed as he slapped her viciously across the face, a red welt immediately rising where his hand had struck. Tears of pain and betrayal began to stream down her still heated cheeks.
"No, Bill, I-I didn't. You're wrong," she pleaded, looking at him beggingly, knowing that he didn't believe her.
"You just couldn't resist that big stud, could you," Bill shouted, and then slapped her again. The room seemed to crackle with the sound of his hand striking her face. "How long," he shouted at her, getting off the bed and walking to the closet, facing the closet door. "How long, you whore?" he demanded, then slammed his fist through the wooden panel.
Afraid to answer, she sobbed while he waited.
"Answer me!" he yelled at her, turning so that she could see his blood red eyes, filled with tears of rage. His powerful fists were clenched at his sides, and every muscle in his tall body was tight and straining at his skin.
"Once," Laura answered, waiting for his reaction. "Only once."
"Bullshit!" he roared. "So you expect me to believe that?" He took a step toward her, and her voice broke as she spoke.
"Please, Bill, you must believe me! I was drunk. It was the night you left for Dallas. I was drunk when he brought me home. It was in the car. I…"
"In the car? Christ! Like a couple of fucking high school kids!"
"No, darling, please. I was so drunk, I thought it was you," she lied. "I didn't know, until we were in the house and had coffee…"
"You brought him into the house? Into our house? Into our bed?"
"No, I, no… yes… in the house."
"Did he fuck you here, on this bed," Bill asked, his voice suddenly becoming almost sinisterly quiet. He moved closer to her, standing over her defenseless figure as she cowered pathetically on the bed, trying to tell him what had happened.
"Yes, here," she sobbed.
"Then, say it, you little whore," Bill hissed, leaning on his knuckles over her. "Say that he fucked you here."
"Yes!" she yelled back. "He fucked me here!" And then she broke and started sobbing, recognizing the lewd grin on her husband's face as the same one she had seen when George had ravaged her on the very same bedspread a few nights before.
"Did he play with this?" Bill asked, putting his fingers on the still tingling bud of her clitoris. Laura nodded helplessly as he began to toy with the erectly swollen organ that already ached from so much attention. "Or this," her husband continued, shoving his finger cruelly into the dampened opening of her vagina. "What else did he do? This?" and he bent his head and bit at the softness between her splayed legs. "Tell me!"
This wasn't her Bill. She could not believe that the depraved man down there between her wetly trembling thighs was her own husband. She started to mumble what had happened to her, feeling his tongue drive deeper into her burning cunt as she half-whispered out the sordid story of her obscene adultery, playing with her, bringing her quickly to a new height of tense excitement as she talked.
"And he made me suck him," the tortured wife groaned with mixed pain and pleasure, her body writhing beneath his nibbling lips. "His… he was almost soft when we started and he made me suck it."
Bill's cock too, was soft, but as he nibbled at the open mouth of his unfaithful wife's moistened cunt, he turned his body on the bed above her. She knew exactly what the gesture meant and bent her head, grabbing the limply flaccid cock and swallowing it deep in her wet mouth. It grew rapidly as she began to suck at it, the rosy bulbous head rising in temperature until it heated the entire inside of her vacuuming mouth.
"Then what?"
"He made me hum while I sucked him," Laura answered, her eyes closed with shame.
"Then hum, bitch!" Bill commanded. "Suck me and hum just like you did with him!"
Quickly Laura obeyed. From deep within her desperately working throat came a sound she had heard only once before, the sound of a woman humming as she sucked greedily at a man's blood-swollen cock. She could feel the massive rod of her husband's male flesh twitching and throbbing in her mouth, leaking small drops of warm pungent sperm as she sucked, which she swallowed greedily. The growing furnace between her own legs was beginning to burn through her entire body, as Bill sucked at her and shot his invading tongue again and again deep into the openly presented lips of her receptive cunt.
"Then did he fuck you?" he asked her, raising his head from her loins for a moment.
"Not exactly," Laura gasped, almost unable to control her voice. He wouldn't, she thought. Her own husband wouldn't do what George had! He's not that cruel!
"What do you mean, not exactly?" Bill insisted.
"He-he did it to me from behind," she stammered, unable to look at his contorted face.
"In the ass?" Bill's voice rose incredulously. "He fucked you in the ass?"
"Yes, oh yes, but please don't. It-it hurts, darling, it hurts," the tormented young wife pleaded as though her life depended on it.
He pushed at her puckered anus with his finger, contemplating if he should go on with his torment. But then he stopped, realizing that obviously Laura had been forced to do it that way, and he would have no part of that. Besides, he had had enough revenge for now. What he wanted now was his cock to drive deep within her and remind her that her body belonged to him and no one else, and if they were to talk, they would do it later. He quickly turned his strong body on the bed, meeting her tear-streaked face with his. Her eyes were reddened by her crying, and he felt a pang of remorse as he brought his mouth to hers and kissed her brutally, crushing her lips with his.
She in turn wrapped her smooth arms around his neck and ground her pelvis up into his burning loins.
"I won't do that," he said to her, "but I'm going to fuck you like George never could! Do you want me to fuck you like that?"
"Yes, Bill, please. Fuck me as hard as you can, harder than ever before. Please fuck me now!" Laura pleaded, wanting in her agony for him to destroy her, so that their love might be born again.
Bill repositioned himself above his wife's defenseless body, and thrust at her with all the strength in his tremendously swollen cock, finding the entrance to her adulterous cunt and plunging himself deeply into her.
"Ooooohhhhh," she moaned. "Ooohhhh, I love you, I swear I do, darling. Fuck me, please!" Her obscene words and wild groaning excited Bill to an instant frenzy. For half an hour they had been tormenting each other with sex and with words, and he could hold back no longer. He began to thrust himself up into her hotly contracting pussy as hard as he could, not caring to make it last, wanting only to fill his wife's traitorous cunt to the brim with his vengeful seed.
Each stroke was like the first for Laura, except that it was more and better and harder than the last. Each time he drove into her, she kicked her spasming legs out wide and drove her hips up to meet him, feeling as though she could cum immediately. They were both on fire, as though trying to destroy each other, fighting more than loving: he wanted revenge on her and she wanting to appease his honor, trying to hurt herself as they drove harder and harder against each other. It was only moments before they reached that goal they both so desired.
"Oh, arrrggggghhhh," Bill groaned as his climax hit him like a crashing thunder bolt. His white-hot sperm pulled its torturous way up from the depths of his heavily-slapping balls like a hungry bear falling upon a stray piece of meat, the milky hot liquid shooting out in wildly uncontrolled spurts toward the heat that burned inside the spastically straining belly of his wife beneath him. Laura grunted, contracting the muscles of her enflamed cunt tighter and tighter around his drivingly plunging cock as he erupted again and again, and spewed spurt after spurt of his long stored sperm into her suddenly tensing body.
"Oh, yes!" Laura wailed hysterically, "I'm cummmmmmiiinnnnngggggg, tooooooo!" and she arched her smooth back upward like a tilting wagon about to go over the edge of a cliff into nothingness. As her husband's scalding sperm filled her to the bursting point and mingled wetly into her own, her spasming muscles contracted rhythmically time and again, blurring her senses until it seemed as though she and Bill were no longer separate entities but one person, one unity, forged together into one sensuous being that groaned out ecstatic climax with the wanton abandon of a new birth, a new being. God, she hoped it were so! It had to be so! The future was a void if it was not!
Laura lay with her head cradled in the crook of her husband's arm, breathing silently as he pondered what she had just told him. After they had made love – in the relative calm and rationality of his exhaustion – Laura had managed to explain in detail the events of that terrible night to her husband. At first Bill had not believed that his neighbor, his good friend, could be so scheming, so patiently lusting and oblivious to the consequences of seducing another man's wife. And then to resort to the rather cheap method of plying his intended victim with some rare aphrodisiac was more than Bill could stomach: he was ready to run over to the Farrington's house right then and there, to call George Farrington out and beat him within an inch of his life. And this he would have done, too, had not Laura told him quickly the reason she had submitted to George later that same evening.
And now Bill lay with his eyes searching the crevices between his wife's petite fingers, massaging her hands together unconsciously as he digested the full import of what his wife had told him.
"I can't believe it, honey," he said finally. "I just can't believe it. I came home from Dallas, thinking that I've escaped from this kind of thing, and I find that one of our good friends is blackmailing us with the same… Christ, it is just too fucking unbelievable!"
"But it's real, darling," Laura whispered, "I know it is. George will tell everything, I know he will, unless I go along with him. I wasn't even supposed to tell you."
Bill looked at the downcast eyes of his beautiful and desirable young wife, and lifted her lowered face up to his with both hands, kissing her briefly on the lips.
"Well, I'm glad you did, honey. Of course, I would have found out anyway – but I'm glad I heard it from you."
"Oh, darling," Laura said contritely, "I'm so sorry for what I've done… I should have known… should have been able to do something…"
"I'll be damned if I'm going to let that big stud think he can push me around, by God." Bill wasn't listening to his wife, and it suddenly seemed to Laura as she watched him getting upset again, that even when she'd been relating what George had done to her, Bill had seemed strangely unconcerned. Or was it her imagination? He'd seemed more concerned with the fact that he had somehow been insulted, than that his wife had been forcefully taken against her will. Even now, Laura could see him trying to think of ways to get even, to escape the snare George Farrington had laid for him – but what she wanted from him was a continued and reassuring understanding and compassion for her own plight, and she wasn't getting it.
"Funny, I always looked on George Farrington as being a little dense, you know?" Bill continued. "Well off, but dense. But I think he's a lot smarter than I thought."
Laura said nothing more, as her husband turned away from her to go to sleep, not remembering, or bothering, to kiss her goodnight before he did so. The oversight was not lost on Laura, as she looked at him momentarily, and then settled back exhaustedly under the covers to prepare for yet another sleepless night. Didn't Bill even care what she had gone through, the mental torment and anguish?
Turning on her side to face her husband's strong back, she lowered her head to rest against his relaxed muscles, deciding that the shock of it all must account for his apparent lack of concern. Of course, that must be it, the no longer innocent wife reassured herself. That must be the reason… for he loved her, didn't he?
Of course he did.