"I can't take much more. Something's got to change. I'm not quite sure what or how, but I got a feeling it's going to be up to me to change it."
Marge Sommers sat slumped on the edge of the large double bed, her dust rag knotted in her hand, and addressed herself to the phone on the nightstand next to her. It was the last place her husband's voice had come from, and even though it was now silently cradled, it only seemed natural to keep talking to it.
"Things just can't go on like this, Roger!"
This was an old thought. It happened every time she got one of these phone calls from her husband.
"I'm tired of waiting for you to change. I guess I'm the one that's going to have to be different… So different, you'll wake up and notice me again."
This was a new thought. It was one approach she had not yet tried, and as she spoke it aloud, it awakened a flood of determination in her that would tolerate no reversal.
"I don't know how I'm going to do it yet, but I'll change into whatever it takes to save this relationship."
This was the most important thought. Marge loved Roger, and was now determined to do anything it took to save their marriage.
Her mind made up, she slipped her gaze from the telephone to scan the half-cleaned bedroom. Change, yes! But change what? Change how? Her mind wrestled hard with each question, her eyes searching every familiar corner of the spacious room as though an answer might reveal itself in some familiar object.
"Oh shit!" she mumbled, throwing the dust rag down to the floor. "How the hell can I fix something when I don't even know what's wrong?"
And there was definitely something wrong.
On the outside it looked like a perfect marriage. They had married young – right out of high school – and Roger had taken over his father's gardening business. In just a few short years he managed to expand it into one of the largest landscaping firms in Southern California.
And now they were the model couple. Beautiful wife – handsome, successful husband – both in their mid-thirties – complete with the ideal daughter, two cars, and a nice home in one of San Diego's upper-income suburbs.
But, that was the outside. Inside, Marge was all to familiar with the problems. A husband too worried or busy to fuck her most of the time – too fast to give her a satisfying orgasm. It had been five years since they had experienced anything beyond accidental good sex.
But Marge could cope with this, she was used to it. The phone calls were another matter. They were more recent, and harder to deal with.
Marge ran the whole phone conversation over in her mind, looking for some tiny clue, some logical reason in word or attitude for her to be so disturbed by them.
"Hello, Marge, you busy?"
"Oh, hi, honey. No, I'm just cleaning up, why?"
"I just wanted to tell you not to bother cooking dinner tonight. I have to go out of town, and I'll barely have enough time to get home and pack a few thing before catching my plane."
"Oh? You didn't tell me you were going out of town…"
"Yet, well… it just came up today. I hate to do it, but I've got to get thing squared away with one of my suppliers."
"How long will you be gone?"
"Don't know for sure, but it looks like it'll take the whole weekend. I don't figure to be back before Monday night."
"Well… if you have to…"
"No way around it."
"O.K… see you later?"
"Yep. Don't work too hard, kiddo."
Marge analyzed each sentence, picking over the words. Until she realized it was making her feel worse to dwell on it, and quit.
There was something about his frequent trips that scared her. It didn't matter if it was a one night hop, or a two week convention. When he was with her, she could handle any of their marital problems; but when he was gone – which was more and more often – she felt helpless. She couldn't change something that wasn't there, and his trips began to look too much like running away.
"Yes sir," she mumbled, throwing one more scornful look at the phone. "Something has got to be changed."
She was startled to have her comment answered by a long, resounding ring. For one brief second her spirits rose on the hope it was Roger calling her to say he had changed his mind. But almost instantly this passed as she realized who it had to be. Without even waiting to hear a voice she picked up the phone and spoke.
"Hello, Jenny."
"Hi, Marge, how'd you know it was me?"
"I just knew."
"God… sometimes I think you must by psychic."
Actually there was nothing psychic about it. It was a simple matter of logic. Marge and Jenny had been best friends since high school; Roger and Jenny's husband, Tom Kramer, had also been best friends since high school. When Roger started dating Marge, Tom started dating Jenny. When Roger married Marge, Tom married Jenny. When Roger went into business, Tom went with him. Roger moved to the suburbs, Tom moved next door. If Roger is leaving town, so is Tom, and if Marge is feeling unhappy, deserted, frightened, so is Jenny.
Simple logic.
"Look Jenny, my E.S.P. level is about four on the hundred-and-eight-point scale. I just heard from Roger. I assume he's taking your husband with him on his newest escape from the marital prison camp."
"Yes, doesn't he always? Look, Marge, I've got to talk to you right away. Can you come over?"
Marge could hear the tension in Jenny's voice. "Sure! I'll be over in a few minutes. You get a couple of stiff drinks ready, and we'll bitch on each other's shoulders… O.K.?"
"O.K… but please hurry."
Marge hung up the phone, and heaved a sigh. She did not look forward to going over. She felt bad enough without having to console Jenny, who usually took things worse.
She paused a moment to lean back on the bed. As she lay there, her mind sailed back to earlier days; days when Jenny and she would call each other with happier voices, and compare notes on their husbands for hours. There wasn't a sexual nuance tried in one bed that didn't appear in the other one the next night.
The two of them had done just about everything together. They carried together, married together, dated together, and…
"Oh My God! We even lost our cherrys together!"
Marge had all but forgotten the incident, and now suddenly, the memory of that evening flooded back.
It had been after one of those many parties that crop up in any high schooler's senior year. The beer had been flowing heavily, and they were both pretty high when Tom and Roger lured them out to Roger's waiting car.
For a while they just drove around, drinking some of the beet they had stolen from the party, and toasting their dual engagements. However, it wasn't long before they parked, Marge and Roger grabbed a blanket and moved off leaving Jenny and Tom in the car.
For a long time Marge and Roger sat entwined on the blanket, their bodies wrapped in a passionate, loving embrace. Roger's tongue was eagerly raping her hot mouth as his hands struggled against the frustrating barrier of her clothing. Marge stood the blissful torture of his caresses as long as she could. Once she felt her resistance falling too low, she broke the embrace. In one sweeping triumph of discipline she rose and announced: "I think a nice cold beer would help us to cool down a little."
"Oh sure," he moaned pathetically. "The very thing."
She kissed him quickly, and skipped toward the car. It was the sounds that caught her first. As she approached the vehicle she could hear Jenny moaning.
"Oh Tom. It's… it's… oh God it's so good, so Goddamn… oooooooohhhh!"
At first Marge assumed it was just another heavy petting session, and stifling her giggle crept up to surprise the young lovers. However, once next to the window, she received the shock of her young life.
Through the fogged window she could now see Jenny spread-eagled in the back seat. Her lips were welded to Tom's, and her hands wore clawing at his bare ass while he kneeled on the floor before her. Marge stared open-mouthed, her eyes two huge saucers of white as she watched her first glimpse of naked cock diving in and out of her best friend's hungry, virgin pussy.
Repining her senses, she dropped to her haunches, and clung to the side of the car. She was afraid to move for fear of being detected by the two lovers, and kneeled motionless, a prisoner to their moans and groans.
"Harder Tom, harder! I want you in me till I can't take you any more!"
"Oh God, Jenny, you feel so good. You're cunt is so warm and wet and beautiful! Oh God, God, God!!"
As Marge sat listening she was amazed to notice a change in her feelings. What had started out as shock and embarrassed eavesdropping, was now turning into sympathetic reaction. She could feel her cunt beginning to soak up as the sounds drifted out to embrace her in their passionate delight.
"Tom, Tom! Oh darling… it's… it's… oh, I've never felt anything like… aaaaaahhhh!"
"I'm coming! Oh God, Jenny! I'm in your beautiful pussy, and I'm ccoooommiiiiinngg!"
Nothing could stop Marge now. She had to get back to Roger. Her belly was aching with the seeds of her lust, and she was ready to pour her passion out in one giant, desperate flood. Assured of Tom and Jenny's preoccupation with each other, she ran crouching from her position, and hurried to the nearby blanket.
Roger was waiting impatiently, tossing an empty beer bottle. "Well damn! It's about ti…"
He never got to finish. She was on him in a second, crushing her mouth onto his. She threw her arms around his neck, and let her body fall hard against him, burying him under the pressure of her heated embrace.
At first he was caught by surprise, and struggled briefly with the unfamiliarity of such raw, open need. But he was quick to surrender to the pleas of her swirling tongue, and the hard grinding of her hot little pussy against the growing bulge in his crotch.
And now he was all over her. Sensing that all the stops had been pulled, he eagerly unzipped her dress, aid unhooked her bra. Then his hands raced around, and for the first time cupped the full, large globes of her naked tits. His fingers trembled as they closed down upon her nipples, already tense and fully erect.
"Oh shit!" he moaned, his hands stroking her tits gently. "I don't believe I'm actually touching your bare tits. I can feel your beautiful nipples."
"Yes, oh God, it's so good. Your hands are so hot, and good… More, stroke them more, more!"
The heat of her plaint body, and the passion of her words urged him on, further igniting the rushing desires within him. He slipped the dress down over her shoulders, and stared speechless at the lovely milk white of her breasts as they glowed in the clear moonlight, the dark patches of her taut, pink nipples crying out to his lusting eyes.
He lowered his head and fastened his mouth on one of her tiny, pebble-like nipples. His tongue ran over the soft flesh, his teeth nipping the tiny buds into even greater stiffness. Marge grabbed his head and pressed it firmly against her tits, moaning softly as he sucked on one, and then the other.
She was now lost in her seething passion. Her body writhe frantically, her breath coming in uneven gasps. Any hope of their stopping was shattered by the violent thrust of her overwhelming desire. Roger was no more than a helpless mass of primal urges, stacking fiercely at the sweet mounds of her tits.
And now she was reaching down, her fingers fumbling at his straining fly. Disbelief swept over Roger as he felt the zipper go steadily lower, and a determined hand enter the confines of his shorts. A guttural moan escaped him as he felt her hand close on his swollen prick, her touch triggering waves of erotic bliss that bolted through his entire body.
He reached down and helped, lowering his pants until his swelling cock stood naked in her sweating hand. She gently squeezed it, testing the hot, hard surface with her fingers. Instinctively, she began a slow milking rhythm, her hand moving up and down the twitching shaft of his huge cock.
"Oh damnit!" he growled. "It's so good. You're touch so good. Stroke it… harder… pull my meat!"
"Yes, anything!" she cried. "It's so huge, so big and hard. I want to pump it… pull it feel it in me!"
The frankness of their words, combined with the overpowering wonder of their actions, had blocked all sanity from their minds. Roger stared lovingly at Marge's beautiful face, contorted in its lust, and thrust his cock hungrily in and out of her clutching hand, until he could stand it no longer.
Consumed in his sexual need, he tore at her dress, lifting the wrinkled garment quickly over her head, and returning his eyes to the bright gleam of her blond pubic triangle as it stared at him from beneath her juice-soaked panties.
Feverishly he worked her panties down over her hips. She moaned loudly as the cool night air blew across her openly exposed crotch. Without hesitation he moved his middle finger toward the wetness of her pulsing snatch and carefully stroked the velvety gash of her quivering cunt-lips.
His finger slid between the secret folds, burning her with its sinful touch. Her body twisted and heaved as she thrust her hips, greedily trying to swallow the finger with her cunt.
Gently he pushed the finger into the tight, running channel of her sensitive pussy. He tenderly stretched her virgin hole, widening it for the entry of his steely cock. Her hips churned, welcoming preparations, and her hand squeezed tighter on the bulging shaft of his oozing prick.
"Oh darling," she sobbed. "Now! Put it in me now! Please, I want to feel your beautiful cock in my cunt now! Please!"
Roger was more than ready. He tore his engorged cock from her grasp, and rolling on top of her, he spread her trembling thighs and placed the head of his prick at the opening of her virgin cunt.
The contact of his bulbous cock-head against her moist, pink clit electrified Marge. Her entire body exploded in a mingling of nervousness and overwhelming desire.
Roger's own body burned in fiery desire as he fought the urge to ram his bursting prick far up into her hungrily throbbing cunt.
Slowly he pressed the head against the moist mouth of her pussy. Her groans stopped momentarily as she held her breath, biting her lip in anticipation of the pain to come. For one brief moment he hesitated, fearful of the agony he would inflict, but quickly dismissed it and lunged forward, burying the swollen head of his cock into her unyielding cunt.
Her voice squeaked out in tiny screams as he forced his cock upward, further and further into her resisting hole. Sobs racked her body from the harsh pain, but she refused to stop him.
Slowly, inch by inch, he pressed forward, imbed ding his rock-hard prick in her tender cunt. She felt her inner muscles contract, enveloping his rod in their searing hold. The maddening bliss of her soft, inner flesh drove him on mercifully, until in one final surge he was all the way in.
Roger was insane with the pleasure. He could feel the soft curls of her blond muff grazing the base of his cock, and his squirming balls falling firmly into the tight crack of her taut, young ass.
"Oh Marge, I love you? Your cunt is so beautiful and I love you. I don't ever want to leave your warm cunt. Does it hurt? Does it feel good for you?"
"Oh God yes. Fuck me. Pull it in and out! Let me have your cock! Please!"
Slowly he withdrew the long prick and again surged forward. This time it disappeared more readily in her dark moistness. Roger could feel her cunt walls relaxing around his thrusting tool. Her body trembling as the sharp pains yielded to the increasing jolts of heavenly bliss.
Roger stared down the length of her firm, white body, and watched as his cock sliced in and out of her tight, mysterious cunt. In the starry half-light the glossy columns of her thighs shone eerily, and he could almost glimpse the pink gleam of her moist cunt. He fucked steadily, mindless of my possible pain, thrusting his cock in full, hard strokes.
Marge pulled his face to her, and threw out her tongue passionately in a full, ardent kiss. Their breaths mingled hotly, and their tongues sparred wildly together in the rising heat of desire. The hard lips of her jugs burned into his chest like tiny irons, and every sense – every single nerve – responded, intoxicated by the erotic pliancy of her body.
"Oh God, it's too good to be true!" she shrieked. "Nothing's ever felt like this! Oh…darling… oooohh God!"
Her hands were clawing into his back, urging him to fuck deeper into her squirming, sucking pussy. Their combined animal moans reverberated in the desert patch of woods that hid their wanton union. Her nails raked his body, digging into the driving muscles of his ass, and plunging him in hard, reaming strokes into her body.
"ER… fuck me… fuck me harder!" she cried, her cunt clutching fiercely at his pistoning cock. "Fuck me… fuck me… fuck me!"
Her words inflamed him beyond all semblance of sanity. The roar of his own pounding blood filled his ears as his sweating, gasping body drove into her sucking, clasping cunt. An anguished groan rumbled deep in his throat as he felt the giant map of his cum rising from his aching balls.
"Oh Marge… I can't stop it… it's… shhiiiiiiht!"
"Yes! Me too! Aaaarrrgqgghhh!"
Their bodies began to heave uncontrollably.
Thick, hot streams of burning fluid gushed from cock and cunt to drown the lovers in glorious, jerking release.
Roger and Marge stared into each other's fats, adrift in a boiling sea of love, marveling at the flushed beauty that only sex an bring as his cock gushed the last remaining drops of cum into her wildly contracting cunt.