Roger Slater was adding a long and intricate column of figures when Marcus Cord knocked on the edge of his office door. Roger looked up from the IBM calculator and smiled. "Come in, Marc."
Cord entered. He was dressed in the latest semi-mod fashion, not in the conservative grey or black three-button business suit which Roger wore. Cord had on a double-breasted pin-stripe jacket over checkered, slightly bell-bottomed pants, a rich blue shirt with a bright, wide-patterned tie, and Roger knew without looking that the shoes would be an off-color with wide buckles. Cord's hair, was a premature salt-and-pepper, which he wore long with thick, bushy side-burns. The total effect was impressive, rather than ostentatious or absurd. If he, Roger, ever tried to wear such clothes, he would have looked absolutely ridiculous and would probably have been fired as well.
Cord grinned and said, "Am I interrupting?"
"No. I'm just finishing the Apperson account for Pierson to see. What's on your mind?"
"Some of us are stopping off for a drink tonight, and I thought you might like to join us."
"Great. Count me in." Well, why the hell not? Roger thought bitterly. What's there to go home to, anyway? Just a cold, frigid wife, that's all. Well, maybe after I've had a couple of drinks, Diane will begin to look interesting again. Although I doubt it. He said, "Where?"
"There's that new place around the corner. You know, the one that looks like an English pub. I understand it has atmosphere, drinks are reasonable. Pig and Whistle, I think is the name."
Roger nodded. "I may be a little late, but I'll come by."
Cord slapped his hand against the door. "Fine." He turned and walked away, swaggering a little as he always did.
Instead of returning to the Apperson account, Roger stared at the computer in front of him and thought about Marcus Cord. The man was easy to envy, for he had the handsome attributes of wavy brown hair, blue eyes, and a dimpled smile which made women take a second look. He had been a football player in college, which hadn't been so many years ago to have lost Cord his muscular and well-developed physique; and combined with a charming and sophisticated manner, which was not affected but extremely natural, Cord made the women take that third and fourth look as well. He exuded sex like an aura around him, and damnit, he knew it.
Roger remembered when Diane had first seen him after shopping one night a couple of months ago, when she had met him for a ride home. By chance, Cord had been standing outside the office building with him at the moment Diane walked up, and when she laid eyes on the man, Roger knew she was violently attracted to him. Physically, lustfully, hungrily; not with love or tenderness which had characterized her desire for Roger. Animal instincts – pure bitch heat, and he had felt the rise of jealousy spread through him. He had been rather nasty to her that night, and they had ended the evening in a bitter fight. He had thrown the way she had acted toward Cord at her then, with all the acid of a man scorned. She in turn had denied everything, swearing it was only Roger she wanted, and that he was fabricating and fantasizing the whole thing. The problem had been that she really hadn't done anything. There was nothing Roger could point to except the explosive air which had been generated. He knew and she knew and Cord knew; but that didn't win the argument for him.
Still Marcus Cord was higher up in the corporation than Roger. He was in another section, a vice president in charge of customer service, which meant that his power over Roger was only indirect – but not worth crossing. Roger knew that if he alienated Cord, his chances of a good long term career at Waller, Waller, Crist, and Maxwell would be ended.
Besides, Roger had no reason to feel that Cord was a threat to his marriage, or that Diane, as indifferent as she was in bed, would ever consummate her desire if offered the chance. Cord had enough women to satisfy the most accomplished satyr. Although married to a beautiful woman from all that Roger had heard, he was nonetheless the office cocksman. He was smart enough not to fool around where he worked, or at least if he had, there had been no talk of it. God knew he could have had any of the nubile, mini-skirted girls in the typing pool, and they wouldn't have kept their mouths shut for a second. Yet when Cord was some other place – a bar, a restaurant, anywhere where there was a female around – he was definitely on the prowl. Roger had heard from another of the staff that Cord had once picked up and later bedded an airline stewardess on the forty minute run between Los Angeles and San Francisco – an almost impossible feat.
Roger shook his head. Why the hell couldn't he be that way? He was so God-awful inhibited, not at all like Cord. Why was he so damned straight and staid? He slammed his fist against the desk top. Well, if Diane kept up the way she was going, he would damn well stop being so stuffy and start being more of a swinger!
Roger stayed late at the office, even though he didn't feel like it. The Apperson account went slowly after he got back to thinking about it, instead of his wife and himself and Marcus Cord. He had to get it done; he had promised it to his boss, Ernst Pierson by the next morning. It was the hour here and the hour there of overtime which made the company begin to take notice of him, of that he was sure. Take notice they had: two fifty dollar raises in six months, and promises of promotions and other benefits. The firm was shorthanded, too, which made his position even more valuable, and Roger willed himself to put in the overtime and forget how tired he was. He wanted to get ahead and earn more money, and this was the way to do it. He had to be on his toes, though, and that took a lot out of him. He realized that some of the problems around his home were his, but that didn't excuse Diane's perpetual iciness and indifference to his needs.
Roger finished at a quarter to six, and put the account portfolio on Pierson's desk before leaving.
He doubted that Cord would still be at the Pig and Whistle, but he felt like he deserved a drink anyway. He walked around the corner and entered the little bar. It took him a moment to let his eyes accustom to the dimness, for the crowd of men and women and the miasma of smoke blanketed what little light filtered from the lamps and windows.
The Pig and Whistle was as Cord said it was: an American idea of what an English pub might look like. The walls and ceiling were in a pseudo-Tudor wood beam design, with the stucco painted white. There was a long oak bar, highly polished, manned by a large, English-accented bartender who sported a handlebar moustache. There were long wood handles attached to the beer spigots, and Whitbread and Guinness Stout were advertised as being served.
There were groups of small, roughly hewn tables and matching chairs scattered haphazardly around the room. A pert waitress passed among the customers with a brass tray of beer glasses and other drinks. She was dressed in 18th Century fashion, except with an extremely short skirt, and she made sharp and slightly suggestive remarks to anybody who spoke to her. A couple of men were throwing darts at a circular cork board in one corner. Roger didn't recognize the shorter of the two, but the other man was definitely Cord.
Cord laughed as the other man stuck a dart in the wall next to the board, slapped the man on the back and turned. He saw Slater and raised a hand in greeting. "Roger! Over here, man!"
Roger made his way through the packed mass and reached Cord. "Sorry I'm late. Where is everybody?"
"They've all gone. It's just us two." Cord turned back to the man he had been playing with and said, "My friend is here. Thanks for the game."
"I owe you for two, I think," the stranger said good naturedly. "For someone who never played darts, you caught on pretty fast."
Cord laughed and together, he and Roger crossed to an empty table, leaving the other man standing alone. He took the chair next to the wall and gestured for the waitress. "That man over there owes me two beers," he told her when she arrived. "Serve one to me and one to him," he added, pointing to Roger. "And make it quick."
"I'll make it in my own sweet time," the girl snapped. She swung the tray around and walked off, her rear end twitching provocatively.
Cord laughed and then grinned at Roger. "She looks tempting. Right, Rog?"
Roger smiled back awkwardly. This was the first time he had been with Cord alone on a social occasion. He felt uncomfortable, over his head in new and strange waters. Cord was an over-powering force, he suddenly realized, somebody he would be entirely unable to cope with.
The beer appeared quickly and again the girl swished her skirt and jiggled the globoid cheeks of her ass at Cord. This time Cord leaned over and patted her thighs lightly. She turned and in mock anger told him to stop with the familiarity. He only patted her again. The scent of sex was heavy in the air. Cord merely had to say when and she'd ask him where, Roger thought to himself. He gripped the thick stein handle and drank deeply of the golden brew. It washed down his throat and he quaffed again. The waitress left, winking at them.
Cord lit a cigarette and sipped the beer and looked very earnestly at Roger. "I'll be honest with you," he said. "Actually, there was nobody else here. I only wanted you to come."
"But why…?"
"Why tell you that a group of us were meeting here? Simple. In case I was overheard by those pack of ears in the office. I didn't want them to know about it."
Roger's head buzzed. A warning bell rang in the back of his mind, but he couldn't figure why, any more than he could figure why Cord had gone to all this trouble. "I don't understand," he replied, frowning slightly.
"You know, Roger, that you've been noticed."
"Noticed?"
"In the office. You've shown ambition and a knowledge of the business, and you're young. You should go far with us."
Roger couldn't help but feel pleased. Cord only paused in his praise to order another round, and as Roger finished one beer the other appeared in its place.
"Our business, though," Cord continued, "has a great deal of politics." He took a final puff on his cigarette and put it out in the pewter ash tray. "In fact, those politics are often cruel and unjust, and to the unwary can be deadly."
"I've never tried to do anything to buy my job, Marc, if that's what you're driving at."
"No, no, I realize that," Cord replied. "You've been conscientious, and you've tried to be fair with everybody. Believe me, that's a refreshing change from the usual." He waved to the waitress that he wanted another round, and then refused to take the money Roger offered. "This is going on my expense account, Rog. I can afford it better than you. Just drink and listen to me." He paused again. "The office has been talking about Drake retiring soon, haven't they?"
Roger nodded. "I think Jim's due to leave next month, isn't he?"
"He is, and that means I'll be looking for a new general manager for my section. Now we both know that Willard Lewis wants that position, and that he's in line to get it."
"I thought that was pretty well settled. I mean, by the way Willard has been talking, I assumed…"
"Right," Cord said, breaking in. "He has an excellent record and has been with the company for a good many years. By all the written rules of good company policy, Roger, he deserves the job." Cord pursed his lips thoughtfully and then took a drink of beer. "Weigh his qualifications against anybody else's, and he's the man."
Roger's thoughts raced at what he imagined might be said next. Did this meeting represent… was Cord trying to offer him… damn it, was this all a lead-up to his appointment to the managerial position? His hand trembled as he drank, and the thrill of such an unlikely possibility coursed through him. God! He dare not dream of such an advancement!
"But this is where the politics I mentioned comes in," Cord said, interrupting Roger's reverie. "Business isn't always done by the rules, written or unwritten, and quite often it's a matter of manipulations."
"I'm afraid you've lost me."
Cord chuckled. "All right, Rog, I'll lay it on the line. In plain language, the promotion belongs to Lewis, but my intentions are to give it to you. Am I clear now?"
"I'm… overwhelmed, Marc! I truly am." Roger paused. His brain was spinning excitedly. "But you said politics. That's still a little…" He searched for the right word. "Unclear."
"Perfectly obvious to me. Lewis is old fashioned. He's too Goddamned set in his ways, and as I move up in the firm, he could be more of a liability than an asset. I'd hazard to say that he could even become a danger to me."
"And I wouldn't be, is that it?"
"I can trust a man who'll stay by me and guard my backside. You can be that man, Rog, if you want to be. You're interested in getting ahead, and you're young enough to see how sticking by me can help you. Let me break the ground, and you'll ride to the top with me, that I promise."
Roger was stunned. He quickly took another large swallow of beer. "That sounds fine with me, Marc. I'll… work for you in every way I can. You can count on me."
Cord offered his hand and Roger shook it, sealing the bargain. "I'm sure I can count on you, Rog," Cord said warmly. "I pride myself on analyzing character, and you're not the kind to think up clever schemes or angles, and stab me in the back."
For some reason Roger felt a pang of self-revulsion. "You're right, Marc. I don't have the guts for politics."
"I didn't say that, Roger."
"No, but it's true. I'm colorless, too staid and too quiet. I tend to climb into a safe little hole so that I won't see what's really going on in the world." Roger wondered why he was talking like this, especially to Cord. But then, hadn't his prospective new boss been candid with him, taking a chance by confiding in him? Embarrassed, Roger laughed self consciously and raised the beer glass. "Here's a toast, Marc," he said. "To the perfect combination of the swinger and the prude."
Cork clinked glasses, smiling broadly. "Here's to us, all right. But don't belittle yourself, Rog. I'm too flamboyant, and I think we can help each other. We're a good complement."
Feeling better from Cord's remarks, Roger threw his head back and drained his beer. Cord motioned for the waitress again and ordered another round. She left and Cord said to Roger, "After this drink, let's go some place else. You know, find some action, have a little fun maybe."
Roger was tempted. He was more tempted than ever before in his married life. The idea of a hot, unknown pussy crawling and heaving around his pistoning cock made his head swim with desire, and he felt his prick engorge and stiffen in his pants. He needed a good fuck tonight, and Diane was definitely not that. Then he remembered he had promised her he would be home early this evening, for some special reason she had refused to elaborate upon. In spite of his sexual hunger, he had to admit that he still loved her, and that he was a man who kept his promises. He wanted to pound the table in frustration.
"Damnit, Marc, I can't tonight. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'll tell you what, Rog. Why don't you and your wife come over to dinner tomorrow night? I want you to meet Cindy, my wife. I think you'll like her." He winked at Roger, then turned to the waitress. She was back with the beers. He beckoned her to lean over so that he could whisper something to her. Roger overheard Cord ask the girl what time she got off work. She told him nine, and Cord said that he would be at this table, and if she would care for dinner…
The waitress smiled provocatively, nodded agreement and moved away. Roger almost groaned involuntarily at the image of what was certainly to follow the dinner. A fine dessert, all right…
"I've got to hand it to you, Marc," he said then, with genuine admiration. "You really have a way with the women."
Cord gave him a superior grin. "Nothing to it, Rog. Just takes practice. Hell, you can have it, too. Just lose some of your Victorian prudery and play the modern role."
"Security," Roger said. "That's my trouble. I want security. I come from an average middle class home, Marc. My dad was a stock broker, and you know how conservative they are. We were close, and I guess I picked up his attitudes toward solidarity." Roger rose from the chair realizing for the first time that he was somewhat drunk.
"Don't let it worry you, Rog," Cord said. "Maybe you can loosen up a bit as we work together."
Roger steadied himself with a hand on the edge of the table. "I hope so." He paused, then said, "Thank you, Marc, thank you very much for this position. You… won't regret it."
"I'm sure I won't. Now get home, Rog. I wouldn't want to go anywhere else if I had a hot little piece like yours waiting either. See you tomorrow night."
Roger smiled weakly, said good night, and staggered toward the exit. Cord's last words burned in his mind. Hot piece. If Marc only knew what kind of an icy bitch she really was. Even out of bed, she demanded all the little things involved in story book romance, with her teasing, suggestive remarks and her come-on looks, parading around in provocative clothes. But it was all a sham. Get down to basics, and she might as well have been encased in a block of glacier ice for all the good it did him. His balls and penis throbbed and ached for the loving touch of a woman, and all he had to look forward to was cold rejection.
Roger walked to the parking lot, the cool night air ineffectual on the rising cloud of inebriation, and picked up his car. The beer surged through his system, and made his thoughts hazy and his emotions fortified. Goddamn it, he was going to show her! He was going to fuck the shit out of her tonight whether she liked it or not, by God!
Roger drove more recklessly than was his usual wont from the combination of beer and passion. The alcohol had completely flooded his mind, and with careless abandon he speeded through the downtown traffic to Geary Boulevard, unmindful of possible violations. Christ, I'm drunker than I thought! he told himself. He never could hold his liquor very well, and more than two of anything, even glasses of wine or beer, affected him badly.
The heat of rising desire flamed his already lewdly-burning thoughts. Goddamn Cord and his wanton ways! That waitress' smirking countenance again appeared in his mind's eye. Her thinly disguised hunger for Cord's handsome body, and no doubt huge cock, flashed before him like a red flag in front of a maddened bull. Like the bull, Roger more and more angry, until he almost screamed with rage and frustration.
Goddamn his wife! His Diane, his one and only – Shit! God, he'd be deliriously happy if only she was a woman, a red-blooded female who wanted him! But he was denied his rights, his end of the marriage bargain. He pictured the ideal situation with Diane, with her mewling and moaning with pleasure as he took her a hundred different ways, and she in turn writhing and sucking and kissing him with unquenchable lust. He could almost feel the creamy secretions of her cunt as she whispered his name, and he groaned, knowing full well that her pussy was as dry and arid as a withered old crone's.
His long, hardened prick was bent mercilessly in his pants, and he could tell that he was oozing secretions into the cotton of his underwear. Never had he been so hot, so intensely aroused, not since the night on Lookout Drive when Diane had first shown what kind of lover she was to be. The pain of his doubled cock was excruciating, and with the desperation of a tortured man he reached down with his left hand and fumbled for the fly of his suit trousers. The zipper protested, for the sitting position made for awkward maneuverability; but slowly he was able to lower it until his white underpants bulged through the narrow opening, and the heavy sack of cloth stretched his trousers to their limit.
Roger looked down at the protuberance. The agony of what he was doing almost outweighed the relief he felt. My God, he thought with horror, here I am, driving along with my pants undone! I can't believe it! What the hell is happening to me? Has my sense of decency become warped?
Then he remembered Cord's words: "Just lose some of your Victorian prudery and play the modern role." Modern role: the permissive man in a wide-open society, where sex was the game – for its own sake and nothing more. As if in agreement, his swollen member throbbed against its restraining hold, and it seemed to jerk restlessly, as if seeking escape.
Trembling with the pent-up fury of his overwrought emotions, Roger touched the swelling and felt a tremor race through his groin and buttocks. What am I doing? I haven't done this since I was a teenager! The narrow band of material which opened along the front of his shorts seemed to widen as his cock bloated the front of his pants. As if of their own volition, his fingers ran along the band, the sensations they caused his prick almost overwhelming. For God's sake, stop this! What would happen if you were seen like this, manipulating yourself like an adolescent!
But his fingers continued to caress the stiffened cock, its outline hard against the shorts, and then he pulled the material aside and like a steel spring, his prick shot free. Oh Christ… no! No!
Roger tried to keep his eyes glued to the windshield, off his erect penis, but with almost animalistic fascination he dipped his vision, seeing the blood-filled knob's towering size. He had never been bigger! His fingers caressed the mighty shaft, and the cool air made it tingle maddeningly.
The foreskin folded back as his hand stroked the burning flesh, and the head winked with its unseeing eye through the steering wheel at him. Sperm churned in the boiling cauldrons of his balls, and he could feel the rising of his cum in the base of his cock. He took one last look at the action of his manipulations, the full fist of his hand wrapped around the pole of his penis, the furious pumping of his wrist and arm almost forcing him to stop the car…
Thirty-fourth Avenue was just ahead, and his duplex within sight. Thankfully, he took his left hand away from his screaming, pleading cock and turned the wheel to bring the Plymouth onto his street and then into the duplex's driveway. He stopped the car in the protecting shadows of the garage. He sat there for a long minute, staring down at his still rock-hard prick, his breath ragged and hoarse. He realized he was too far beyond recovery to fight the primeval urges his body thrust upon him, and his mind began to form weird erotic scenes of the lewd positions he was going to force his wife into. He opened the door, and started his desire-wracked body toward the kitchen entrance, his hand once more enclosed over the turgid shaft.
Diane straightened up the kitchen for perhaps the dozenth time, waiting impatiently for Roger to come home. She looked over at the table, set but incomplete without the candles and wine she had originally planned to have. Feelings of remorse and guilt swept through her. When she was upset like this she had to keep her hands busy, and she occupied herself by washing a couple of kitchen shelves unnecessarily. As the hours ticked by, the morning's horrible experience began to return to her mind in spite of herself. She blushed guiltily at the thoughts, shutting her eyes tightly in a vain effort to reject the smoldering picture of her fingers contacting the soft, wet slit of her vagina and throbbing mounds of her breasts, and she drew in her breath sharply to hold back a groan of humiliation. She found herself once again reliving the maddening onanistic caresses, and her hips churned in unintentional rhythm to the teasing recollections of unwanted fulfillment.
The sound of Roger's car stopping in the garage brought Diane back to reality, shattering the horrid, vile dream in her mind. She whimpered as tears of abasement cascaded down her cheeks. Oh God! she cried to herself. Only yesterday I had convinced myself I would give my body to Roger tonight, and really find myself sexually. Well, she had found a certain sexuality within her – but not with her husband. The mental preparations had been for naught, had actually turned her colder than ever. He must never know. Roger must never know…
Suddenly the door burst open and Roger stormed into the kitchen. His eyes blazed with the uncontrolled lust which burned through his loins. His immense, ruby-tipped penis leaped ahead of him as he moved deliberately across the room toward his wife, and he held it pointing at her with his hand still beating the hardened flesh.
Diane shuddered, her breath frozen in her throat, and she could only stand immobile where she was. What…? What was this… this sick thing she was witnessing? Roger, her Roger, standing there with his huge penis in his hand. Her mind balked, and then she was overcome with dreadful apprehension.
"I've got to have you, you bitch!" Roger blurted. "Right now, right here, and Goddamn it, you'd better be good for a change!"
Diane cowered back into a corner, whimpering with fright. He stepped closer, then grabbed her savagely with his free hand. He swept her to him, and her attempts to free herself from his grasp were futile. She was hauled ruthlessly against the rigidity of his lust-hardened cock. She felt his immense weapon through the thin material of her housedress, and she stared in abject horror into his contorted face. His eyes were more lust-possessed than she had ever seen them before, and his mouth was drawn back over his teeth in an almost vicious snarl.
Wild thought of wrenching herself free and running from him seized Diane, but her husband's strong arms pinned her to him and his hot, beer-smelling mouth crushed against hers, stifling the groans she emitted in a tight, grinding kiss. Oh no! Oh God no! she thought wildly. What hideously monstrous thing is happening to me? Am I to be raped by my own husband? Is this my punishment for… what I did this morning? Her eyes puddled with terrible anguish. God, I'm helpless; I can't move; I can't move!
Roger's hands explored her body, clutching and squeezing her soft, sensitive flesh, pulling harshly at her clothes. His swollen, rigid prick throbbed excitedly against her as he pinned her to him. Diane struggled feebly for one panicky moment, feeling his hand pressed against her tender breast and then she went limp, allowing the softness of her lips to meet Roger's own questing mouth. She couldn't fight him, he was too strong, but perhaps if she gave in a little it would help to return him to sanity. Desperately she thrust her tongue between Roger's lips and deep into his mouth, and he sucked it hungrily into the wetness of his cheeks. His kisses burned her like a firebrand.
Roger eased his head away then and hissed: "Take your clothes off!"
"Darling… please!" she tried to plead with him, but it fell on deaf and ignoring ears. "I… have your favorite dinner… all ready and waiting. Let's do… this later, if you want, but not… not this way!"
Roger snarled and threw her to the floor. "Not this way… not any Goddamned way if you had your choice!" he spat thickly, his face contorted in a mask of rage and lust. He turned and swept his powerful arm across the table, sending glasses and silverware crashing cacophonously to the linoleum and then he wrenched the tablecloth off and wadded it and threw it against the stove. "The only dinner I want is a good fuck, you bitch! To hell with the food, understand?"
Diane knew that to plead anymore would be useless. She could only look up from her sprawling position on the linoleum and quiver helplessly from the evil which she knew was about to be perpetrated upon her defenseless body.
"You frigid, prick-teasing, sniveling, dried-up bitch! You were cut out to be an old maid, a virginal old maid. Why didn't you join a nunnery, for Christ's sake?"
Diane moaned and lowered her face to her hands as Roger loomed over her. His long, turgid shaft bobbed above her, and she closed her eyes. But then… it touched her cheek! Panicked, she suddenly squirmed and struggled with renewed strength, frenzied at the thought of his filthy, lust bloated penis so close to her. She raked her fingernails against his cock and shrieked, "Get away from me! Don't touch me, you… you animal!"
Roger lurched back beyond the reach of her claw-like nails. "Damn you! Goddamn you!" he shouted. "I'll teach you!" He reached out and grabbed her wrists and threw his body at her until his cock was jammed against her face again. "You want to do it the hard way, well then we'll do it the hard way!"
"No, no… please… I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Diane pleaded, the scalding tears streaming down her cheeks as he tore at her dress. Roughly he shredded the clothes from her, ripping and shredding the material as if it were tissue paper, until she was naked before him except for panties and bra. The dress lay like a lewd blanket around her.
"Shut up, you bitch!" he snarled.
"Roger, why… why are you acting like this?" she moaned, his foul language and affronts a searing pain within her. She saw him take another drunken look between her widespread legs and her fear-quivering breasts.
"I'll tell you what you're going to do. You're going to suck me," Roger sneered. "That's it. You're going to put my cock in your mouth and suck it. You'd hate that, wouldn't you?"
She nodded uncontrollably. The very idea of his male organ filling her mouth was abhorrent, and she involuntarily gagged.
Without warning, he thrust forward and down, and the mammoth, sex-crazed head of his blue-veined penis rubbed against her taut, lipstick lined lips. She tried to twist herself free, but he pressed on and the saltine, musky taste of his cock began to seep inside her mouth. She gritted her teeth and moaned: "No… no… please…" and as she did he rammed forward. His prick forced its way deep into the soft folds of her mouth, like some horrible snake crawling in its hole.
"Suck, baby, suck!" he groaned, moving his buttocks in the pagan ritual of copulation. He dragged her hair and held it in his steel grip and drew her head toward him in spite of her efforts to free herself; she felt his sliding shaft burrow halfway down her throat, then back out slightly, then forward again.
"Oh Christ, Diane!" Roger hissed, "Uhhhhhh… I love my cock in your mouth!"
His obscene words brought back the memory of the overheard bathroom scene of that morning, and for an instant Diane envisioned Judy Carneal lavishly suckling that man while he sat on the toilet. Her lips began to nibble slowly at her husband's thrusting instrument, and she coughed and sputtered. His balls bounced against her chin and there was the stale odor of sweat from his inner thighs, filling her nostrils with a constant reminder of the cruel, depraved attack she was being subject to.
"Jesus, Jesus!" he spluttered, "Oh my Christ!"
Roger worked demonlike, thrusting his hips, his hands jerking her head rhythmically with his motion, and he writhed and strained as though in the last throes of death. He slipped her mouth up and down over the end of his cock as though it were a cunt in which he was venting the full wrath of his drunken, bestial lust.
Diane could feel his fleshy cock stretch and expand against her cheeks until it completely filled her mouth. She had never felt so dirty, so debauched in her life, and the one urgent thought which she tried to find solace in was that it would soon be over. She sucked and wriggled her lips wildly, hoping to make him cum quicker, please him as best she could and pray that would be all he wanted or would take. She worked in a daze at the command of his fingers, licking and sucking like a hungry child as he forced her to follow slavelike his every thrust into the tender shelter of hZкрmouth.‹Хr ravishment continued, a ceaseless rape of her fear contorted face.
Then as suddenly as he had begun, Roger withdrew his cock. A small, sticky emission of lubricating fluid threaded between her lower lip and the head like a wet spider web. For a moment Diane hoped he might be finished with her, but then she saw that his eyes still burned with hateful lust, and her body trembled. She felt herself fall away and roll to one side, wretched, debased and lost, and the horrible image of how she must have looked with his cock buffeting her mouth made her ache with helplessness, made her want to vomit. She dimly felt Roger kneel beside her and crawl his hands over her thighs. She did not move, but closed her eyes and drifted into a semi-consciousness, past all caring.
Roger fumbled with her panties, his fingers sliding beneath the elastic leg band, hooking the wispy silk and then ripping away the garment with one vicious jerk.yЕ traced the soft, hot flesh of her inner thighs, letting the air caress the widening legs, and momentarily his breath caught in his throat. He parted the inner lips of her cunt and gazed lewdly into the hot wetness which enshrined her clitoris. The full ripeness of her hips, the golden down of her pubic hair, the flatness of her white belly were all visible to him and his cock hardened still more at the thought of soon ravishing her helpless genitals.
Diane tossed her head wildly, with a shudder of horror as she felt his fingers probe the sensitive walls of her defenseless pussy. Involuntarily, the juices of her femininity began to flow as his pressure increased, although her mind was petrified with her utter subjugation. The erotic shock of his hand surged through her convulsively.
"OOhhhh!" she groaned as he leaned forward and touched his lips to the soft, fleece covered mound at the base of her belly. Her inner thighs spasmed and quivered beneath the thumbs Roger pressed against her hair-lined vaginal lips. Once again, he dipped and planted a wet kiss on her groin. He tantalized her with eel-like flickings of his tongue, moving downward until he spread the warm, vertical mouth of her pussy and licked the moist coral lusciousness which opened before him. Roger's fingers parted the damp satin-layered cunt, allowing his hungry, devouring mouth complete access to her secret being.
Diane's elbows pressed tightly to her sides and she lolled her head back and forth insanely as Roger's hot, searing tongue shot out, stabbing and encircling her quivering, erected clitoris. His lips sucked, drawing the warm folds deep into the cave of his gently biting mouth, while his tongue continued its maddening licking against the urgent pink flesh.
Dear God, help me, help me! Roger, Roger, has all reason left you? Why do you hate me? Why are you filled with contempt and loathing for me? Why am I no better than the lowest whore to you? Diane groaned huskily deep in her throat as her husband's probing lips licked their way up and down, up and down, the length of her narrow slit, starting at her lower belly and pressuring their way over the elastic rimmed opening of her clasping vagina, into the crevice of her round firm buttocks. There, they stopped momentarily to pay wet flicking homage to the tight pink anus which throbbed there. She couldn't believe it… but it was happening to her! Involuntarily, she ground her hips down against the hard, unyielding floor and heard herself emit strange animal like purrings from between her tightly clenched teeth.
Roger felt the tantalizing softness of his wife's pubic hair brush against his cheeks as he fed hungrily upon her pussy. He unbuckled his belt and opened his pants completely, then he slipped them down to his ankles. He kicked them off with his shoes. Slowly, he massaged his blood-heavy penis back and forth as he burrowed his face deep into Diane's cunt, his urge to conquer the woman beneath him boiling madly in his veins. For the first time since he had married Diane, he was truly enjoying her; the pleasure he felt almost overwhelmed him. He had not dared to think that such a coup was possible, but now, here she lay, completely at his mercy. It was far beyond his wildest dreams!
He could not help but gloat inwardly as he plunged his tongue into the small palpitating opening of her cuntal mouth and heard her cry aloud. The soft-rimmed flesh tantalized him and he covered the clasping, viscous opening fully with his lips to bring a low guttural groan and a spasmodic closing of her warm thighs around his head. He could feel her tight cuntal hole and squirming crotch and wet, lubricious flesh slip moistly around his long, extended tongue as the walls of her invaded vagina opened to his sucking motion, attempting to ingest his tongue deeper and deeper into it. His nose was mashed to her quivering clitoris, and he hungrily inhaled the pungent, perfumed aroma of her. The delicate piquancy incited his penis until he was afraid he was going to spill his seed that very second.
God! He had to fuck her or he would burst! His cock was throbbing wildly! With a cry building in his muscle strained throat, Roger grabbed Diane's legs behind the knees and climbed upward on her sweat-soaked body, thrusting her calves roughly up over his shoulders. He splayed his hands beside either of her arms and his palpitatingly huge cock slipped teasingly against her drenched, saliva-soaked pubic mound.
He gaped down between their bodies. Her upturned, ivory white buttocks completely enraptured him, and her narrow cunt lips throbbed and expanded beneath the stabbing probe of his concrete hard prick, their wet, pink furrows held apart by the pressure of his thighs. He worked his cock up and down between the ridges to part the soft blonde pubic hair and felt her spasm and shudder.
"I'm going to fuck you right now, bitch, just as if you wanted me to… even if it's the last time I ever fuck you!"
Diane shut her eyes against the strange, inhuman face which leered down at her, his words unintelligible in her ears. She could sense the fleshy hugeness of his prick lying in her open, quivering channel, jerking and insinuating itself in a rising and sawing motion. She felt its smooth, rubbery head convulse against her soft, sensitive slit until it was adjusted between the lips of her vaginal opening.
"Oh God Roger… oh why, oh why are you doing… this to me?" she moaned out helplessly in her agony.
Roger could not control the sadistic desire to torment his wife even further. Even though he had all he could do to keep from instantaneously impaling her soft young pussy upon his aching cock, he could not deny this intention. Shortly he would empty the madly churning seed of his balls into her cunt, but for the moment she was going to have to suffer further, to be forced to realize just how frustrated and rejected he had been for these past two years. She was going to be paid back in full, so help him God!
At long last, Diane felt him force open her vagina with his penis, and winced tearfully at the sudden pain. His weight crushed against her brassiere-encased breasts as he thrust his hips forward, and the elastic snugness of her opening resisted only for a moment from the onslaught of his rape. Then she gave way beneath his harsh, brutal pressure. She emitted a throaty wail.
"Oh Roger… please… no, no… not so hard!" she begged further.
Roger was elated by her painful cry. He thrust again, listening intently for her deeper whines, wanting suddenly to hear her scream for mercy. He rammed forward brutally, felt his balls slap resoundingly down against her twitching upturned buttocks. She ground her hips against the floor in a useless attempt to escape, and her legs jerked wide out on either side of the table, kicking vainly at the air. She screamed!
"Roger! Rooooggggeeeerrrr! Oh God, it hurts! AgggggggAAAAAAAAghhhhh!" she yelled as though her body had been impaled upon some barbaric implement of torture.
His penis tore into her and scraped against the tight, still-unready walls of her vagina. She contracted and squeezed desperately in an attempt to force the alien invader out of her body, and she heard Roger gasp from the sudden clamping of her passage. But still he pushed deeper and deeper into her, forcing the warm, moist cavern of her pussy to yield open to his thundering rod of hardened flesh.
Lying helpless beneath him, tears of pain and humiliation tortured Diane. She felt torn asunder by the physical force of his entry, and the mental brutality of his unnecessarily cruel attack. Worse, she was unable to comprehend whatever inconceivable logic lay behind his actions. But Roger was drunk and in no mood for explanations. He pounded his cock deep up inside her to its hilt until she was sure he was going to pulverize her very inner vitals. It was as if a white hot ram of fire was filling every pore of her stomach, and there wasn't one tiny ridge or crevice which was inviolate from his chunky weapon.
Then his hands went around and began to knead and cup the resilient flesh of her softly mounded ass, and she could feel her skin begin to bruise beneath his rough touch. Roger lay unmoving, his face directly above hers as he caressed her buttocks. She too remained motionless, afraid of the agony it would cause her if she moved with that huge weapon inside her. Silence, save for Roger's ragged breathing, hung between them. Suddenly, then, she felt a throb as his cock jerked upwards in another half-inch of virility.
"Uuuuuhhhh!" she grunted, her face twisted with pain.
"That's right, bitch!" Roger taunted. "Scream for it!" He flexed again.
"AAAAgggggg!" she gurgled, the cords of her body muscles straining. "Oh God, have mercy! Please… I can't take it!"
"You'll take it, all right!" came the hissed answer. "You'll take all I can give and like it! Hear me?"
She didn't answer, only rolled her head helplessly to one side.
"I asked you a question!" Roger snarled, thrusting savagely into her.
"OOooohhhh, yes, yes!" she cried, afraid now of offending him lest he be crueler and more brutal than he was now. "I'll like it…! I will… I will!" she choked, tears welling in her closed eyes as she spat out the lie. Her husband's obscene, lewd actions had forced her to the depths of degradation, and she doubted if she would ever be able to look at herself again with any measure of pride. He had stripped her of her self-respect on this night, and there was nothing left except his gargantuan cock buried deep, deep inside her. She knew that he had sensed her loss of the last remaining ounce of resistance, and clamping his beer-smelling mouth over hers again, he began to rock sideways with a sawing motion of his thighs. The agony within Diane increased, and it was as though her insides were being shredded into a thousand miniscule pieces. She groaned in hopeless defeat beneath him.
Roger thrust in and out with ever-increasing strokes, ignoring her tears and cries of anguish. He seemed to grow bigger and bigger, battering her cervix unmercifully. She was sore and raw and mentally scarred, and Roger felt a frenzied glory as she defensively undulated from his skewering actions. He rampaged against her buttocks, burying his cock again and again inside her decimated vagina. She was his, completely his, a slave in total submission to his every whim. He could do with her what he willed…
"My God! My God! You're… killing me! Oooohhhh!"
Roger laughed harshly, and as if in answer, stroked more rapidly, hard and fast, battering her quivering, wet pussy. He moved his hands to grasp her smooth, sweat-slick ass-cheeks and pull them closer to his thighs, trying to blend them with his own, his vicious thrusts filling the kitchen with lewd, resounding smacking noises. His breathing came in short, gasping puffs, and his body dripped steaming sweat. He felt a complete loss of all control…
"I'm going to cum!" he shouted wildly. "My God, I'm going to cuuuuummmm!" He groaned as he thrust his cock's full expansion deep inside her wide-stretched vagina, his mouth dropping open and his clutching fingers commencing to jerk spasmodically in an attempt to open her for even one more fraction of an inch of his cock.
"Fuck back! Fuck back! Fuck back!" he blurted. But then the first stream of hot, white sperm began to gush up the tunnel of his cock and surge into the well of her vagina. It burst with the force of a tidal wave, burning into Diane's belly like liquid fire. She could feel the filling, drowning sensation as his flow continued to pulse maddeningly and his cum leaked down the crevice of her buttocks and pooled whitely on her uselessly torn clothing…
And then he collapsed, his demon cock deflating with sudden and complete satiation. Roger fell exhausted across Diane, one arm splayed wide. She stared at his spent body covering her, wondering in utter disbelief how this man, her husband, could have exercised such sick, perversions upon her. Now, in the wake of his played-out passions, shame and revulsion inundated her, and she let tears openly fall from her glazed eyes.
"Why?" she moaned inaudibly. "Why… why did you do this, Roger? Oh, God, why?"
"You'd never understand," he breathed huskily against her bosom. "What did you ever know about… a man's feelings? You're the one who forced me to this. And do you know why? Because I'm sick of pleading and coddling you to get what I'm entitled to… a plain, cooperative piece of ass! I married a statue, not a woman!"
"Don't talk to me like that, you… you filthy beast!"
"Filthy beast, am I!" He raised up beside her, his face contorted with rage. Diane could see down between his legs and… his cock had jumped to life again! But that was impossible! How could he have an erection after… She stifled a cry as he pushed his again erect penis into her aching cunt once more. His hot, rejuvenated staff began to hammer her dry and throbbing passage. He made a mirthless, gasping chuckle which mingled with her sobs, and then lost itself in a continuous, inhuman grunting of renewed lust…