There were moments when a deep sense of shame filled Kelly Brown's troubled mind. Not only, she knew, because of what she had done, what she had permitted John to do to her. Oh, dear God! He had fucked her as if she were no more than a common whore! But far worse was the fact that she had enjoyed being fucked in that obscene way, had been close to ecstasy as his tongue had lashed out to worm deep up into her moistly throbbing cuntal passage.
Kelly shuddered for the past, but she dreaded the future. They would all four meet again, there was no question about that. And then what would happen? Would John fuck her again in the same shocking manner? Or would he demand an ever greater submission on her part? And if he did…?
She hardly dared to think of what would happen next. In a sudden flash she realized how naive she was, how innocent in spite of all the knowledge she had gleaned from the reading of innumerable books. Oh, dear God! She was little more than a babe in the woods when it came to matters of the relationships between men and women, when it came to sex. Sometimes she railed against her strict and puritanical upbringing, against the hypocrisy of her well-bred family. Dear God! Her mother had taught her that people of their type were not interested in sex, making everything connected with it seem somehow unclean. In spite of the older woman's constantly reiterated admonitions… "We have better things to think of..
." Kelly had frequently let her mind wander to the desires, the needs of her own body.
She had even, from time to time, let her hands wander across her softly trembling flesh, seeking out the little triangular zone of pleasure there between her legs at the base of her belly. She had stroked the small bud of her clitoris into a taut erection, ashamed-oh, so ashamed-of what she was doing, yet unable to stop!
She had an eerie sense that the same thing was happening again, that her own personal history was repeating itself. She couldn't stop! She would let John do anything he wanted, would welcome it, accepting it because she was powerless to resist! There were times when she contemplated in horror the depths to which it seemed she had fallen, other times when she resolutely made up her mind to end the affair. But she didn't want to… she really didn't want to.
She compared her husband to John, time after time. She thought of the ecstasy when the former had ravished her so obscenely, thought of her horror when she had been forced to suck greedily at Tom's thick and rigid cock.
Would John ever ask her to suck at his? She shook her head, wondering, trying to assure herself that she would never, never agree to degrade herself to the point of doing so. And yet, she thought with another shudder of horror, she was weak and being weak, she would be willing.
There were times when she thought she would go out of her mind if she had to see the Whitmores again, repeat her own depraved performance. But there were other times when she was just as certain she would go out of her mind if she didn't meet them once more.
Preoccupied as she was, she became listless and lost her appetite. Her nerves seemed frayed as an old lamp cord, and she was startled by the slightest sound, the least commotion. In spite of her fears, her premonitions of imminent disaster, she found herself waiting for the telephone to ring, hoping against hope that it would be either John or Penny, asking to arrange another evening like the last they had spent together.
When it turned out to be someone else, Tom calling to say that he would be late for dinner or her friend Cynthia calling to suggest lunch and an afternoon of shopping, she felt a terrible let-down after the surge of excitement that had first welled up in her.
Kelly was sitting in the living room with Tom one night after dinner, idly turning the pages of a book she had bought only that afternoon while her husband leafed through the latest issue of his favorite girly magazine when the telephone rang. Kelly sat bolt upright, then started to her feet to answer, but Tom was already on his way to the hall to pick up the instrument. His voice floated back to her, cautious at first as he said,
"Hello," and then becoming animated. "Sure," he was saying. "Sure. You bet we would. As a matter of fact, I've been hoping you would call."
There was a pause as he listened to the voice at the other end of the line and Kelly called out, "Who is it, Tom?"
"John Whitmore, honey," he called back and Kelly's heart plummeted. Oh, God! He'd called after all! She knew then how devoutly she had wanted him to, and knew at the same time a moment of complete and utter despair. He shouldn't have, she thought bitterly. He shouldn't have!
But John had called, and Kelly knew it would only be a matter of time before she would give herself up to the enjoyment of whatever depravity he wished to subject her to. Oh, God! He would fuck her just the way he had before, she thought, and the memory set off a delightful tingling there between her legs again! She pressed them together, trying desperately to suppress the unwanted pleasure, but it was useless. She remembered then the sight of John's huge thick cock jutting from his loins, thought of the way it had hovered ever so briefly above her own open and welcoming pussy. An unexpected, unwanted tremor of joy coursed through her limbs and then with a tremendous effort she calmed her trembling body.
"We doing anything Friday?" Tom called from the hall.
"I… I… don't know," she stammered, knowing what would come next, desiring it and dreading it at the same time. "I don't know."
"Look and see, will you?"
Kelly got up and found the small calendar on which she wrote down the dates she made. With a sinking feeling, Kelly saw that the calendar was blank. She stared at it, momentarily mute, then was prodded into answering by Tom's insistent voice. "Did you look, Kelly? What have we got?"
"Nothing," she managed to murmur. "Nothing, Tom."
"What?" he asked again. "I can't hear you, Kelly. Have we got anything planned for Friday?"
"No," she said at last, shaking her head as if he could see her. "No. We haven't got anything planned."
''Great!'' It was an explosion of scarcely-concealed pleasure from Tom. And then he added, "Well, we have now, so write it down, will
you?"
Write what down? Kelly thought resentfully. What? He hadn't told her yet. But he would, she knew. He would. She heard her husband speaking into the telephone again, heard him saying, "Sure thing, John. You bet. Wouldn't miss it for anything. Not after the show your better half put on for me. Jesus Christ! She's a great little number when you get her in the sack. But I guess I don't have to tell you that, do I?"
There was another pause and Kelly wondered miserably if John was returning the compliment. He wouldn't, she told herself. He was above that. And yet he had thought nothing of subjecting her to a shockingly demeaning perversion!
Oh, God! Kelly closed her eyes briefly, remembering his punishing tongue as it had licked at the soft lips of her cunt, as it had swirled around the small bud of her clitoris… Tom's voice startled her again, bringing her back to the present. "Friday then," he was saying. "Yeah, it's going to be hard on me to wait that long…" he suddenly burst into a guffaw of ribald laughter. "Hard on… get it?" he asked. "That's what I get, just thinking about that luscious chick you're married to." There was another pause and Kelly blushed in embarrassment at her husband's crude comment, and then she heard the telephone being cradled.
Tom strode back into the room, a lewd grin spreading across his face. "That was John," he explained as if Kelly hadn't known. "We're invited there again this Friday."
"I know that," Kelly said with a hint of irritation in her voice.
But Tom was too pleased with the other man's call to notice. "Gee, honey," he said, "I can hardly wait…" He looked at her lewdly, licking his lips. "How about getting in a practice session before then?" he asked evilly. "Get you in shape for the big night."
"Oh, Tom…" Kelly's eyes were stark with mingled terror and horror. How could she, after what he had said to John Whitmore? How could she ever again?
"Well…" Her husband stood before her, still grinning obscenely and she saw with despair that there was a bulge beneath his trousers.
"No," she said in a low, frightened voice.
"Aw, come on, Kelly. Practice makes perfect…"
"No!"
"It doesn't?" Tom shrugged cynically. "Okay… have it your way…" Goddamn her, he thought bitterly, stomping off through the room and into the kitchen.
He took a beer from the refrigerator, pulled back the tab to open it and then drank it down quickly. He wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve, tossed the empty can toward the trash basket the room-it fell short and rolled across the floor, and Tom kicked at it savagely, sending it hurtling under the table-and opened another. He drank that quickly too, hurling the empty can after the first one. And then he sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs.
Goddamn it, he thought. He ought to go into the living room right now, rip his wife's dress off and pull her panties down. And then rape her. Goddamn it all! Rape her right there in the living room, under the glare of the overhead light, the three lamps that still burned brightly. Fuck her silly,
out there in the open-and with the blinds up, the shutters open, giving anyone who wanted it a million dollar view. Jesus, that would sure as hell humble her highness-lying there with her legs spread wide, her pink little pussy exposed to the passers-by. Christ, she would learn her lesson and learn it good!
He laughed coarsely at the thought of his wife twisting and writhing beneath him, humiliated almost beyond endurance. The stuck-up bitch! Oh, Christ! Why had he ever married her? And why did he put up with this crap she handed out?
Well, he wouldn't any longer, he thought. Christ, he'd had it up to
here!
Staggering a little, he strode back into the living room. "Kelly?" he snarled, looking around.
The chair she had been sitting in was empty, all the lights but one turned off. He blinked, wondering if she had gone up to bed and was lying there, her naked body quivering passionately while she waited for him. Jesus!
But he knew instinctively that that wasn't true. Instead of waiting for him with her legs spread wide, ready to welcome his raging penis deep up inside her, she had probably locked the bedroom door and was crying herself to sleep. Oh, Christ! He thought of going upstairs anyway, knocking the door down then screwing his wife just the way he'd wanted to before. But he knew that it wouldn't be any good… he would hate himself later almost as much as Kelly would hate him. And so, consoling himself with thoughts of Penny and the fucking she was in for on Friday, he finally curled up on the couch and went to sleep…