Blackmailed into swapping

B

CHAPTER ONE

After all that had happened, Mavis Moran mused. Willie Quentin still wanted her to continue working part-time at the supermarket he managed. After everything — Mavis was somewhat bewildered as she pushed her long, slender legs into pale blue panties, adjusted the double-ply crotch over her ample love place and arranged the cups of the matching bra around her firm breasts — she was still willing to work for him.

As she brushed her hair, she smiled at her expression in the mirror. At least, she knew Willie for what he was — or she thought she did. He was a charlatan — and he knew that she knew it. As she finished dressing, she wondered whether Becky Samon had kept her appointment the previous Wednesday to let Willie screw her.

Mavis smiled more broadly. “Theft, my itching butt!” she muttered. Well, Willie had tried that with her — it had almost worked — but she had caught him up. Well, she had after he had coerced her and seduced her in his office. She was slightly puzzled. There had been no hint of resentment that she had slugged Willie in the balls and thumped his hard-on with a knotted fist when he called her earlier, asked her to work. Well, that had happened Monday; this was Saturday. He had had ample time to get rid of any soreness in that time. And it probably hadn’t made him too sore to shag little Becky, Wednesday. He really had the hots for her.

She probably wouldn’t have accepted Willie’s urgings to work if her husband, Phil, hadn’t called the night before to say he couldn’t possibly be home before nine Saturday night. It was only noon and Mavis poured herself a cup of coffee, thought of calling Miriam Carr and Connie Quentin to join her — she wasn’t due to report to the store until almost four.

But she decided against it. She hadn’t seen either of her two closest acquaintances for several days. She shrugged. “I suppose I should think of them as friends,” she mused, sipping the coffee and lighting a cigarette. An awful lot of “things” had happened among them in the past several days to regard them merely as acquaintances.

Connie’s husband, Willie, had gotten to her, as had Henry Carr, Miriam’s husband. And Mavis still didn’t know for sure whether Phil had screwed Miriam that night last week. Maybe he had taken on Connie and Miriam both — in the same bed at the same time! He hadn’t made it clear!

Mavis almost wished he had humped them both — good — because Hank had screwed her! She shuddered as she remembered that repulsive Ben Glover ramming his obscene cock into that dainty Terry Lewis. “Ugh!” she muttered. Mavis wished she could have avoided everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks — but Miriam and Henry knew things about her that she just didn’t think she could stand for Phil to find out! Another thing that made her almost ill was that no matter how repelled she had been by what she had been compelled to do, she had enjoyed it with an almost animalistic pleasure. She may have started out in the sex act filled with revulsion — but she loved to fuck and be fucked!

The thought tormented her that maybe she wasn’t as much a sex captive as she had pictured herself. She fed on sex — and Phil hadn’t touched her in a couple of weeks.

Her mind was distressed and she contemplated having another drink. But resisted. If Willie made a demand on her today, would she resist his bed and his lecherous cock? A warmth fluttered through her and she frowned. Right now, rationally, she was adamant that Willie Quentin wouldn’t screw her — but her female chemistry was responding to her mental gymnastics!

Becoming more and more disturbed, Mavis decided to go to work early and get away from her thoughts and memories…


At eight-thirty that evening, Willie Quentin left his office and strode straight to the checkout stand where Mavis was working. He was brusque and businesslike. “I want you to stay over until all of the local chain proceeds are in the armored van. You’ll have to take care of the lock-up procedure and receiving the two van guards. My cashier was just called away because of a death in the family and the assistant manager was given the day off because I thought it would be a light weekend — right after a holiday.”

Mavis nodded her consent and watched the tall, red-haired manager stalk toward the elevator in the back of the store to return to his office. It had been a light evening. The other two checkout girls had gone just a few minutes before; the three stock boys, including Dell Emerson, Becky Samon’s boyfriend, had gone at seven-thirty.

Earlier, Mavis had seen Mickey Lewis saunter through, buy a case of beer. He had avoided her, had checked out through one of the other stands. Maybe he was still embarrassed, knowing that she had seen his wife plundered by Ben Glover last Saturday night. Where had he been? Fucking Connie Quentin? Mavis knew that Phil had been occupied, somewhere, by Miriam Carr!

At eight, Henry Carr had roamed through the store in plainclothes while a uniformed officer bought a pack of cigarettes.

Mavis knew that Hank was with the officer as she had seen them both get out of the marked patrol car. It made her even more nervous when Henry Carr ignored her and the uniformed officer had checked out a few stands away. Things she had heard gave her reason for uneasiness.

Shortly after nine, she heard men coming and going in the vast stockroom. Mavis knew they were officials of other stores in the Salt Lake City area, bringing their store receipts for Willie to tabulate and lump all money together for the armored van fellows.

Mavis left her stand and tripped a series of switches with a special key that locked all customer doors electronically. Any tampering with the doors set off an automatic alarm at the Sugar House police station.

All she had to do was check the doors to see that the locks had engaged properly. That left only two doors for entry and exit the side door for employees and the huge door to receive merchandise. The side door could be opened from the inside or outside, but only by using special keys carried by Willie Quentin and the assistant manager. The loading dock door couldn’t be opened at all from the outside, but had to be unlocked by throwing a series of three switches in the proper sequence, inside.

Only a few lights were on in the store proper. A single light burned in the stockroom it lit the passage from the loading dock to the stairway to Willie’s office. With her uneasiness mounting, Mavis lurked near the entry to the stockroom, waiting for the armored van to arrive. She wished that Dell had remained behind — but he hadn’t spoke five words to her since what Connie and Miriam had forced him to do! Mavis shrugged. She couldn’t blame him. And she doubted that he even suspected that Becky was fucking Willie!

She wished the van guys would arrive. As soon as they rang the bell for entry at the loading dock, she would go in back, trip the switches and admit them. Then all she had to do was stand by until they took all that money, loaded it in the armored vehicle, and she could go home. She wondered whether Phil was already there. She had left him a note on the breakfast nook table, explaining where she was.

As she thought about her husband, warm anticipation pulsed through her. When he had called the night before, she detected a sexy promise in his voice. He had said they would have a couple of drinks and hinted at a long night of romping between the sheets.

She was startled when a faint bell sounded and she looked up to see a red light flashing beside it. The armored van had arrived. It would only be a few minutes before she could leave, get in her old car and hurry home to her husband’s arms.

Mavis pushed through one of the swinging doors and half-ran to the back of the stockroom. She turned on a small light over a complicated switch panel and carefully manipulated the three switches in sequence. She stepped back, ready to greet the van guards with a smile — because she would be leaving soon.

But the three men who slipped inside the store weren’t armored car guards. They were dressed in black coveralls with black hoods over their heads. In their black-gloved hands were ugly, menacing guns.

Her vague nightmares were about to become stark reality… The store was about to be robbed and there was no way to warn Willie Quentin in his office alone with all that money!

The three men seemed huge to her and she was aware only of slight differences in height. Her mind raced and there was a dull ache in her breast. From things she had heard in the past, Mavis wondered if her husband, Phil Moran, was one of the hoodlums!

She had not time for further, rational thoughts as one of the men slapped her lightly and pushed her along the passageway toward the stairs to Willie’s office.

Maybe the van guys will show up and stop them, Mavis thought as she felt a hand up under her skirt, fingers pushing against her crack, urging her up the steps. She had no way of knowing that the three men had pushed ether bombs into the armored car to overcome the two guards, then had looted it of about two hundred thousand dollars.

“Open the door,” one of the men — the one who was squeezing one of her nervous fanny buns — ordered in a guttural mumble. Terrified, Mavis pressed a button. A buzzer indicated that Willie had disengaged the lock.

Mavis was given a brutal shove forward and she crashed through the door and sprawled on the floor against Willie Quentin’s desk. The three men stormed inside and one of them lashed Willie across the side of the head with a gun barrel, sending him sprawling back in his chair.

There were five dark blue sacks on the floor at one end of Willie’s desk. He had tabulated the receipts and all of that money was ready to go.

Mavis rose unsteadily and peered at Willie who was rubbing a swollen welt on the right side of his head. “Get naked, you two!” the taller of the three bandits ordered harshly, stepping around the desk to slug Willie on the left cheek bone with his fist. “Naked!”

“Nooooo!” Mavis started to protest. The man slapped her again, hooked a gloved hand in the bodice of her dress and ripped it open to the waist.

“Getcher Goddamned clothes off!”

She watched Willie get awkwardly to his feet and start stripping out of his clothes, his eyes darting from pistol to pistol. Mavis, in her terror, was only vaguely aware that she was shedding her clothes. After kicking off her flat-heeled shoes, she stopped, standing there in nothing but skimpy panties and low-cupped bra. A gun barrel was pressed into her navel and she quickly slithered out of her skivvies and tossed aside the bra.

Willie was already naked, standing up, both hands braced on the top of his desk. The situation was blocked from her mind for a moment; she had never seen his penis soft, but it was still quite long. His testicles were large; the robbery hadn’t caused them to shrivel. She felt sorry for him. His eyes were going to be black and he would have a tremendous lump on the side of his head.

The only man who had spoken moved around her and pushed her toward the desk. She almost fainted as the cold steel of a gun barrel was thrust against her anus.

Harsh, mocking laughter turned her sick. “Get that red-haired bastard hard — hurry it up — or you’ll have a helluva time getting this lead out of your ass!”

“Please!” Mavis implored as she was pushed around one end of the desk. She noticed that one of the men grabbed two sacks of the money and hurried from the office. The other shoved Willie into his chair and tied his arms behind the back. Then he unrolled a band of wide adhesive tape and wrapped it all the way around Willie’s head, across the clamped mouth.

Mavis was shoved onto her knees beside Willie as Willie’s legs were tied to the swivel mechanism and underpinning of the chair.

“Make the bastard a monstrous hard-on, baby!” the man snarled.

With disgust mingling with fright, Mavis reached timidly for Willie’s genitals. His bag of balls was a handful. She began jacking him off, running the thick skin of his penis up and down the limberness. Up over the head and back down toward his hairy crotch. The glans jerked and perked and she flogged his meat more quickly. How could his peter respond like this, under the circumstances, she wondered as starch flowed into his bone and the penile shaft thickened and stiffened. In a couple of minutes, Willie had a full hard-on and Mavis prayed that her tormentor wouldn’t make her give Willie a blow-job!

But that wasn’t his intention. She was yanked backward roughly, landing on her naked ass, legs sprawled wide, feet in the air.

She stared in disbelief as the other man unrolled a lot of his tape. He hesitated when the third man returned and left with the other three sacks of money. Then he squatted beside Willie and slowly taped his hard prick with the adhesive tape. Round and round and round and round that massive pecker until it resembled an obscene mummy. Then he wrapped Willie’s balls with tape and secured them to his left thigh with several winds.

Just the thought of taking off that cocoon of sticky tape almost made Mavis ill. It might come off his cock okay, but she would bet that it would yank out every hair on his scrotum!

Mavis had little time to contemplate Willie Quentin’s miserable predicament. Everything was swept from Willie’s desk and she was yanked to her feet. “You bastard!” she managed to swear as she was slammed down on her back on the oak surface. She was slugged in the pit of the stomach and wind was slammed out of her. She was helpless, fighting for breath, as her wrists were taped to legs on opposite sides of the desk. The roll of tape passed over her body, just at the navel, and around the desk several times. Three or four winds of the tape secured her ankles that were pushed high toward her face. It was secured there as the tape was wound around her arms above the elbows.

It was almost a relief to have her legs drawn up high as the edge of the desk had cut into her buttocks. Mavis started to scream, but her mouth was crushed shut and tape cemented her lips together.

“I think we got time for me to fuck her!” the only man who had spoken said. Through terror-filled eyes, Mavis saw the other two men nod.

The man shoved a gloved finger into her upturned groove, then wormed it brutally into her vagina. “Go ahead and fuck her — and let’s get out of here,” one of the men finally broke his silence.

Mavis watched the man step up to her and drop his clothes and shorts. She stared at his tools, fearing he might remove the tape and stuff the pear-headed shaft into her mouth and down her throat as he brought it to full rigidity by jacking off with gloved hands. But he was only interested in shoving his ten-inch cock into her cunt and dropping his rocks deep in her fearful body.

She wretched and squirmed as his gloved thumbs pried the lips of her pussy wide and he socked his cock deep into her channel that was shrunken by fear. This was one session of sexual intercourse Mavis knew she wouldn’t enjoy. While her assailant warped the prick to her snatch, one of the other men taped up her breasts. The gum of the tape drew on her flesh and skin and the pain was almost unbearable. She was only vaguely aware of her rapist’s quickening thrusts — long and ruthless and fast. Then he shot a full load of boiling semen far up in her stretched swat.

“Tape!” he yelled triumphantly.

Mavis raised her head as he withdrew his saber-cock and quickly taped up her crotch, running the binding from her asshole to her belly button. Then back and forth, sealing his cum in her snatch.

Her first thought was that with his cum plugged in her twat she would get PG, but she had taken The Pill regularly. All that could happen — the very worst — was having this foul rapist’s jizz soaking in her pussy…


Hysteria mounted, subsiding only after the three robbers had gone. Her discomfort, having her feet drawn high in the air and arms tied down the sides of Willie’s desk, became dominant. She had the frightening sensation that she would be left like this, obscenely naked, her breasts and crotch painfully taped, until she died.

Willie was helpless. No matter how he struggled, the adhesive tape kept him harnessed to his chair. Mavis twisted her head to the right and stared at the grotesque mummy of his genitals. It must be very painful for him, she thought, having his hard cock bound up like that with wide strips of tape.

Time passed slowly. And Mavis drifted into a semiconscious state. Later, she was only vaguely aware of other people in Willie’s office. She learned the next day that Connie had called the police when Willie didn’t come home.

Police Lieutenant Henry Carr was there — he helped cut the tape bonds from her arms and legs and the strip that encompassed her body. There were other policemen, too. And Phil came as Hank wrapped a blanket around her nudity. He rode in the ambulance with her to the hospital where she was given a sedative before the tape was cut from her body. She was washed down with rubbing alcohol and put to bed. She was more asleep than awake when Phil told her that nurses had had to shave her pussy hair to remove the adhesive from her abused snatch.

She hadn’t been aware of that, but had known when someone flushed out all of that cruel man’s filthy semen. They had sprayed and perfumed her and that had felt good and cool and she wanted to sleep.

Her sleep was deep, but her mind played back, vividly like a full-color, three-dimensional movie, the past couple of weeks. Her mind focused immediately on that day when she came home from the store, the day Dell Emerson had accompanied her to help bring the groceries into the house.

Yes, that was when all of this horrible business started happening to her…

CHAPTER TWO

As Mavis preceded Dell Emerson through the vined arbor to the back door, she was conscious of his eyes on her rump that was snugly molded by tennis shorts. She knew men and she knew that the young law student’s eyes were exploring her body as he carried the large box of groceries.

She juggled the two bottles of gin and mix to her left arm as she unlocked the door. She liked to look sexy, knowing she had a figure men liked looking at. And Phil Moran, her husband, liked for her to dress enticingly. He was almost embarrassingly proud of her sensuous appearance.

And Mavis liked men’s eyes on her. She held the door open, glad to be out of the glaring sun, and let Dell into the large kitchen. She paused, perfectly still, listening to Dell put the box on the breakfast nook table. She frowned. There was that one brief chapter in her life she wished she could erase. There was that tormented interlude after college when she couldn’t find a job. A lot of men’s eyes had seen her body — not just in tennis shorts and skinny bra! They had let their lust-filled eyes rove over her absolute nudity! And, oh, the things she had let them do to her body! Some had been really, keenly good! Others had just used her for their animal pleasure. She wasn’t resolutely ashamed that she had been a prostitute for four months. It hadn’t been so bad. And the money was good! But, she would never, never, ever tell Phil! That would just kill him and her marriage, probably!

She sensed that Dell’s eyes were on her hips and thighs and slender back again. She lingered with her reverie for a minute longer. But a girl had to make ends meet — she had had that urgent student loan to pay off before they would let her have her diploma in economics.

It hadn’t been too bad. In the four months, she had only taken on enough “clients” to meet her financial obligations. Hell! she pouted, turning and smiling at Dell, a lot of girls gave it away free to thirty men and boys — and she had earned almost twenty-five hundred dollars. And some of the older guys — the tender repeaters — had been real fun; they had taught her that sex-play was greater sport than the Super Bowl — and no broken bones. She almost giggled. She had crushed a few sex bones. Except, the memory sometimes almost broke her heart. Well, she had her hero. Phil! And she would never sell her body again!

“A drink, Dell? That’s right, you have to go back to the store. How about a lemonade? It’s all ready, in the frig.”

“Okay,” the tall stock clerk said, slipping into the nook.

Mavis inhaled deeply, lifting her full breasts for his admiration, as she handed him the frosty glass. His eyes never missed a ripple of supple muscles in her midriff and the haughty lift of her breasts. “I’m going to have a martini,” she murmured, turning away from his eyes that had riveted on her crotch where the tight shorts outlined the full labia — the smile and crease. As she stirred, she sighed silently. She could have him. And, with Phil gone so much, an eager tail wagging around inside her would be scrumptious! But, she loved Phil too much to cheat, she told herself. Or did she? A healthy girl needs sexing ever so often.

No matter how much she needed a piece of male twang and a spot of nookey, it would take a helluva lot to get her on her back with legs kicked high for some other man’s pleasure-stick! She sensed he was hot — aroused — she could almost smell his musky male aroma! She could have him — if she wanted! But, wasn’t he going with Becky Samon? The young woman who worked as a typist at the Salt Lake City law office where Dell helped work up briefs, did research and got some practical legal training? She wondered, even though they were engaged, whether Dell was faithful and loyal to her.

She would bet that he was! Right now, he was extremely hard-up! She could smell the warm, sweet aroma of his genitals — and her excitement was increasing. But, she was resolute! She wouldn’t let him seduce her and she wouldn’t seduce him and cheat on Phil!

The fleshy curtains that protected her womanhood felt glued together and she didn’t want to risk getting up, lest Dell see the telltale traces of honey seeping from her love cove! “Hadn’t you better get back to the store?”

“Probably,” Dell smiled, finishing his lemonade and sliding out of the booth.

After he had gone, she pouted over the possibility he had smelled her, too! She didn’t want him to think of her as a cowardly female in heat! Afraid to skin out of her clothes and have a lusty sex romp while her husband was away. Mavis almost cried. She did need her cove explored. She shivered with sexual misery. If Dell had just made the gesture, she just knew she couldn’t have resisted; she would have flopped over, flung her feet into the air and spread her milky thighs wide. She wouldn’t have resisted one iota as he presented his manhood to her. She would have let him take her — and she would have taken him! She fluttered and burned and itched all through her loins. She needed it! She needed a man!

“Phil!” she cried. She had heard many men say it, now she yelled it herself… “I need fuckin’!”

She finished the pitcher of martinis and glanced fuzzily around the elaborate kitchen. The gin had hit her very hard, after a couple of hours of tennis with Connie Quentin and being out in the hot sun. And the alcohol did nothing to cool the sensual urge that was coursing through her veins.

Mavis almost wished Willie Quentin, Connie’s husband, would call her in to clerk that evening at the local supermarket where she sometimes substituted for regular help. The prospect of spending another evening of solitude without Phil was depressing. Would he be home tonight? He had said he was going to Cheyenne, Wyoming, on some kind of big burglary. That was three days ago and he hadn’t even called!

She let her fingers graze the hard tips of her breasts. He hadn’t even given her a little the night before he left. After three years of marriage, was his love and passion for her ebbing? The thought frightened her. She knew she was just as desirable as when he had married her. And her passion hadn’t cooled, in fact, it seemed even snore volatile and explosive. As a matter of fact, her preoccupation with sex lately worried her. Was she — could she — turn into a nymph? She had read case histories about women who couldn’t get enough intercourse. She often thought some of the symptoms paralleled her own feelings of lust.

Hadn’t she seriously considered — if only briefly — an affair with Dell Emerson? Oh, she had found it not too difficult to resist making the initial overture toward the bedroom. But the cozy prospects of being fondled and laid had their stimulating allure. She had the physical evidence it was so… Her crotch was sticky — hot with passion and her vulva and vagina seemed on fire!

Clumsily, Mavis eased out of the breakfast nook. Her tapering thighs were like jelly and she was surprised her long legs supported her. With both hands on the tabletop, she steadied herself. Each movement seemed to agitate the sensuous torment in her loins. She shook her head and smiled faintly. It was a good thing Dell had gone before she finished the martinis! She needed it so bad right then she would have flopped for the Quentins’ gardener — black as he was!

Suddenly, a vivid picture of one of her “clients” flashed through her mind. He always liked her down on all-fours, dog-fashion. The memory was so sharp and keen she could almost feel his penis gliding in and out of her vagina, his fingers gripping her flanks at the hip bones and hauling her body back, smooth cheeks of her ass pounding against his hairy belly as he speared his long, thick penis deep into her passion-juiced uterus.

She closed her eyes and shuddered. Was she sex crazy? Unsteadily, Mavis wandered into the huge living room and pulled the drapes. With her mind and body in turmoil, she flopped on the divan, breathing heavily. Phil wouldn’t call; she just knew he wouldn’t. And she would be alone another night. Sure, she knew several people, but they were Phil’s friends. They had been his friends long before they were married.

Unhappily, she thought about them — positive they weren’t interested in inviting her over alone without Phil. Connie and Willie Quentin knew she was by herself. So did Miriam and Henry Carr. But it might be more difficult for the Carrs to entertain her. He was a police lieutenant and his hours were as irregular as Phil’s. And she hardly knew Terry and Mickey Lewis. They were fairly new to the neighborhood. Mickey had just taken the position as basketball coach at the local high school. So, who else was there? You could bet that Dell and Becky wouldn’t want to sit with a married woman they knew only slightly — not when they could be at a drive-in movie necking and petting. She had the intuitive feeling they weren’t making out, that Becky was saving her cherry for her husband on their wedding night.

Mavis could barely keep her fanny from bouncing; nerves kept sparking deep in her innards. God! How she needed relief! Resolutely, she turned to her right slightly and skidded the zipper on the side of her shorts and freed the button. Well, she wouldn’t go hunting for a stud to service her. She drew her feet up and worked her shorts and moist panties down past her knees. Delicately, she combed her fingers through the rich pubic growth that was long and thick over her mound and fanned nearly to her navel.

“Ooooooh, goooood!” she sighed. Without even feeling, she knew the pleasure thorn had poked out of its fleshy sheath, tingly and hot. She had never made a practice of playing with her monkey, but it sure needed petting now! Mavis had never felt any regrets after masturbating, but she did it on rare occasions. She drew her feet up until the heels were against her buttocks; she fanned her knees and tense thighs wide. She wanted to live a clean, straight life, loving her husband and caring for her home. So, a little playing with her pussy wouldn’t hurt anything — not nearly as much as taking on some man while Phil was away. He probably would understand her masturbating, but would never forgive her for adultery.

Mavis knew that the seat of pleasure lay just inside the fatty folds of flesh just below the pulpy mound across her pelvis. But she would prolong the enjoyment, now that she had committed herself to sexing herself. Slowly, delicately, she stroked her fingers up and down the inner planes of her thighs. “Ooooooh,” she moaned as muscles jerked and nerves sparked. She used her thumbs to press the thick lips together over the clitoris and the aching opening to the vagina. She was so drenched with passion, she knew stroking the firm flesh of her crotch could make her cum. But she fought off the building thunder in her loins. She wanted lightning to strike at the same time — and that would come only when she parted the full lips and stroked a hand in the wet groove and crammed two or three fingers of the other hand into her greedy hole. The seething and boiling in her channel was reaching a tempestuous pitch.

After a slow rake of sharp nails along her thighs, she used the fingers of both hands to spread the labia wide. Almost brutally, she worked her bunched fingers into her vagina. Then she attacked the clit and upper part of the furrow with her other hand. Furiously, stroking up and down, raking the thorny clit harshly.

There was a pounding of drums in her head, and thunder and lightning were cascading together in long rolls in her insides. She was cumming! Faster and faster her hands flew — up and down in the vulva, in and out of her cunny. She was having it! She was cummmmmmmmmmmmmmmiiiiiiiinnnnng!

“Aaaaaaahhhhhh, God!” she whimpered as the waves of passionate splendor washed through her like high tide. She was buffeted and battered by tremendous shock waves of masturbatory satisfaction.

As her heartbeat started returning to normal, after the lightning retreated into her uterus and the thunder grew still, she slowly opened her eyes, still clutching her snatch with both hands.

And stared into the smug amused face of Miriam Carr. Shame flashed through her — but there was no sign of ridicule in Miriam’s hazel eyes. Just faint, lively amusement. Mavis was starkly aware of her obscene posture, knees scissored up, thighs spanned wide, hands dug into her pussy — and Miriam peering at her. Tears blurred Mavis’ eyes — and still she lay perfectly still, as if paralyzed.

“You poor darling,” Miriam murmured, kneeling beside Mavis and placing one cool hand between Mavis’ heaving, jutting breasts and another on Mavis’ feverish hands clutched in her sex saddle.

“What a delightful, exciting performance!” Miriam cooed, slowly pushing one of Mavis’ hands aside and fingering her own into the upper expanse of vulva that was slicked with female sex honey. Mavis’ tense ass bucked uncontrollably as Miriam teased the moist furrow and deftly pinched the fading clit back to full erection.

Mavis wanted to sob and writhe away, but Miriam was doing things to her, again arousing her to a feverish pitch. The muscles in her flat belly spasmed and tightened as Miriam continued to masturbate her slowly, then faster and faster.

Mavis was panting in short gasps of passion, her free hand sliding up under her skimpy halter to clutch a breast melon. “Oh, God!” she whined and moaned as Miriam brought her out. She felt she was being turned inside out down there where her own hand was diving deeper and deeper into her boiling, roiling cunt. Her torso was bucking and plunging, naked ass humping up for full pleasure from her own inserted hand and Miriam’s agile fingers. “I’m cumming!” she yelled triumphantly, no thought of shame, as her innards exploded into a violent orgasm that nearly left her unconscious.

She was only vaguely aware of Miriam leaving her as her sex-saturated body trembled and began returning to normal once again. She opened her eyes to see Miriam standing over her with a couple of drinks.

“You poor darling,” Miriam repeated softly, helping Mavis sit up and cradling her in one arm. “Drink the gin and tonic, honey.”

Mavis sipped gratefully, all but unmindful of her naked lower extremes. Right then she didn’t care if Miriam gazed at her hairy tummy and snatch. She didn’t care that Miriam had seen her playing with herself — had helped her masturbate. She had had relief that she had needed so urgently. She couldn’t sort out her emotions; tell whether the two self-induced orgasms were comparable to those she got from a huge cock working in and out of her pussy, or not.

“Thank you, Miriam,” Mavis murmured, sipping the strong drink.

“You aren’t getting all you crave from Phil, are you?” Miriam suggested slyly. “You two aren’t making it so good in the sex department, are you? How long has it been since he gave you a good lovin’?”

“More than a week,” Mavis cried softly, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks and trickling off her chin into the deep cleavage between her firm, feverish titties.

She liked the feel of Miriam’s fingers under her arm, squeezing the ridge of her breast. “I feel so awful!” Mavis finally blurted, clenching her thighs over her naked, hairy crotch. The thick, blandish mat was soaking wet from her passion and perspiration.

“Sometimes, husbands and wives need a change of partners to make them more appreciative of their own marriages.”

In spite of the liquor, Mavis’ senses sharpened. What was Miriam hinting at? A thought was building in the back of her mind, emerging solidly from something she had merely sensed in the past. Phil’s friends were swingers! Mate-swappers! Miriam, subtly, was proposing that she and Phil engage in the growing pastime of jumping from bed to bed! Oh, no! Were the Quentins involved? Somehow, she knew they were! And how many other couples in the neighborhood? People that she and Phil didn’t even cultivate socially.

“What are you saying, Miriam?” Mavis queried, making her tone absent and disinterested.

“I am sure that I could rekindle Phil’s interest in you — the guys talk — and Hank has said several times he is concerned about your physical and mental well-being. Besides that, honey, he has all the equipment and know-how to please a girl. And we women know better than men how important it is to our lives to get rid of those deep passion-pressures so we can be relaxed and serene.”

Mavis gulped half of her drink and trembled as if a sudden chill was numbing her body. She looked down at her nudity, panties and tennis shorts around her ankles. “Oh, no, Miriam!”

“Sometimes, it is a big step toward saving marriages — it keeps them from becoming stagnated and dull,” Miriam said confidently.

Mavis felt in a state of shock. She didn’t even bother to haul up her clothes to cover her nudity while Miriam went to mix two more drinks. Could she do it with Henry Carr? Her thinking had never dwelled sharply on what it would be like to undress and crawl into bed with one of hers and Phil’s neighbors and fuck. And she had never considered that Phil would lay another woman. She just couldn’t imagine her husband pouring his meat into another woman’s snatch.

Miriam’s free hand was on her naked thigh, like a hot iron on her quivering flesh. It was like a daytime nightmare! Miriam was very serious and intent about swapping husbands. And the way she talked, Mavis was certain Henry was all for it! How would Phil react?

She sat very still as Miriam rose, kissed her cool forehead. “Think it over, sweet. Talk it over with Phil when he gets home. I feel certain you will see it my way — for the best of all of us. If you should lean toward the negative, I’ll try another method of persuasion — and I am sure it will work!”

Mavis sensed an ominous note in Miriam’s tone.

CHAPTER THREE

Mavis, purposely, had left it dark all through the house, had sequestered herself in the master bedroom that she shared with Phil — when he was home.

After Miriam had stolen from the house, Mavis had taken a long, hot bath, soaking for nearly an hour. She had powdered and perfumed her body, yet a taint seemed to linger in her flesh. Completely sober now, she knew what it was. The memory of her masturbation and having Miriam walk in and assist her into a second orgasm left a dark thought crashing through her mind. Shame and embarrassment gnawed at her. Another thing, as she considered it as objectively as possible, was Miriam’s parting comment about being able to persuade her to agree to mate-swapping. She had been right at the time… There was something callous and threatening in her voice!

Surely, just having seen her playing with her pussy for needed relief wasn’t enough to give Miriam a lever to compel her to consent to sleep around with other men! What the hell! A lot of women whose husbands weren’t available masturbated. And not just with their fingers, either! She had read the books. And she had seen some of the tools that were available — some of the girls in college had them — dildoes — and used them regularly, nightly!

Mavis wished that Phil would call, and she didn’t. What would she say to him? Could she talk about Miriam’s open proposal that they swap husbands? Over the telephone? It might be easier than having Phil in the same room with her. On the other hand, if he were present, she could study his expression and compare it with his comments.

The thought of having Henry Carr or Willie Quentin riding in her sex saddle and banging her cunt with their cocks should have nurtured total revulsion in her mind — but there was an aura of excitement mingled with questioning apprehension about it!

“Oh, damn!” Mavis swore softly, deeply tormented. How could she tell Phil, she wondered miserably, sitting down before the vanity mirror, wearing nothing but panties. As she slowly brushed her long, blonde hair, tears fell from her blue eyes onto her gorgeous boobies. Would Phil understand? Would he be furious? Maybe, he knew about their friends already!

Maybe her husband had already sampled the love wares of Miriam and Connie Quentin! And she was just being set up for a complete Mardi Gras of mate-switching! The thought was slightly repulsive to her.

But she and Phil hadn’t been so hot in bed; their lives hadn’t been exactly a bowl of passionate porridge lately! But she hadn’t realized all of the signs were there for other people to read so easily.

Mavis waggled her taut, trim fanny around on the dressing bench to ease the twitchy-itch in her rich crotch. Phil hadn’t given her a full ration of peter for more than a week. And her appetite for man-meat was getting to the point where she needed a lot of it and one as big as a horse!

Even though the experience had been distasteful she forced herself to reflect on it. Miriam, with sandy hair and large hazel eyes, after helping her masturbate, had looked right at her and brought it right out that she knew she and Phil weren’t “making it so good”.

And they weren’t making it! — not in the bedroom, on the sofa in the living room, in the shower standing up, in the tub lying down, in the back seat of their shiny Buick or in the patio or on the back lawn after dark. Mavis started crying harder. She needed her husband to make love to her — not other men in the neighborhood. Oh, how she gloried in having his big bone buried in her swat! And she needed him so much she felt she could just make sausage out of his pecker. For a moment, she had the aching sensation she could use any he-meat — young or old!

Her sense of shame deepened. How could she contemplate surrendering her body — her pussy to another man’s cock, her breasts and lips to another man’s mouth? The brief episode of her life, before she was married and had taken men’s lustful bodies between her thighs, sex stumps in her cavern, was blotted from her mind. Her brief tenure as a prostitute didn’t count now. She didn’t remember she had taken their thumping cocks deep in her pussy almost as eagerly as she had taken their money.

Mavis was aware that the double ply of her scanty skivvies had wedged into the tight smile of her vulva and was agitating her again. She finished brushing her hair and strolled restlessly around the bedroom. She paused at a window and cautiously parted the drapes and peered out across the dark back yard. It was after ten o’clock. A light was on in the den of the Quentin residence. The Carr home was blacked out.

She opened the window slightly and strained to listen. There was faint music wafting on the still night air. Mavis quickly concluded it was emanating from the Quentin home. She stared a moment longer and worked the drapes back together. Was it possible the Quentins and Carrs were swinging — had swapped mates and actually were engaging in orgiastic fucking in the same room? Her heart hammered violently as her mind conjured up a lewd spectacle of the four naked people twisted in lewd knots, each screwing the other’s marital partner.

“Oh, damn!” she whined, pouting and falling over backwards on the huge double bed. Why did such thoughts start her blood racing, heart palpitating madly? She DID NOT want to engage in such adulterous behavior.

She touched her bare breasts gently and found the aching dainty nipples fully extended to the point of exploding. She caressed a hand downward, fingering the thick mesh that adorned her pubic region. She found her crotch was like a bed of live embers, nearly torrid enough to sear her fingertips.

Mavis closed her eyes and worked her hand under the band of her panties and cupped her luscious mound. She had no qualms, then about masturbating again. She closed her mind to the embarrassing incident of Miriam catching her. Delicately, she plowed a finger into the smile and waggled it until the thick petals unfolded in a broad bloom.

“Oooooooooohhhhhhhhh!” she moaned, working the finger up and down the long, slick, hot rut, gouging it deep into her vagina, sliding back to the top of the furrow again. “Eeeeeiiiii,” she panted, feet planted far apart, heels dug into the bed, frenzied ass bumping and grinding as she whipped her hand back and forth in her snatch, rapidly soaring toward an orgasm.

Just as she slammed into it, fingers buried in her cunt, thumb prodding her stinging clit, the telephone rang. The sound did nothing to deaden her erotic pleasure. A hand left her boobies and reached for the instrument. Still savoring the sweet, sugary blasts of her orgasm deep in her cock-channel, she gained control of her breathing.

“Hello?”

“This is Phil,” the voice sparkled over the wire.

“I — wish — you — were — here!” Mavis blurted, clutching her passion-greased snatch. “Why haven’t you called before?”

“Been to places where there are no phones, baby,” Phil laughed. Then she sensed a frown in his voice. “Anything wrong? Is everything all right?”

Mavis refrained from speaking for a moment as the firecrackers stopped blasting in her swat. “I’m not sure.” Then a boldness crept into her mind. “Miriam made a bizarre and startling proposal today.” Before he could interrupt, the words cascaded from Mavis’ lips, “She suggested we join her and Henry in mate-swapping!”

“The hell!” Phil whistled and Mavis couldn’t read in his voice whether he was for it or against it.

“She said,” Mavis forced herself to giggle, “that it stimulates marriage. Can you imagine?”

She was waiting for his condemnation of the proposal, but all he said was, “We’ll talk about it when I get home in about four days.” And he hung up.

Was he in favor of screwing some other woman and having his own wife fucked by another man? God! She couldn’t tell from his terse comments.

Mavis’ slumber was troubled and restless. She dreamed over and over that her husband was slipping between her veed thighs — but just as he was about to glide his big, hard cock into her pussy, she opened her eyes and saw the faces of Willie Quentin and Henry Carr and Dell Emerson and Mickey Lewis, the basketball coach who had moved into the neighborhood such a short time before. Their eyes were hot and wild and lewd and they fucked her, one after the other. And Phil was watching, as were Miriam and Connie. And she saw him fucking them!

She wakened, gratefully, to the persistent jangle of the telephone. It was Miriam Carr — and it was nearly ten o’clock in the morning. Miriam suggested she come over for mid-morning coffee. After the nettlesome dreams, Mavis was almost elated to receive an invitation to do something — get out of the lonely house. Gone from her mind was the dream of Connie and Miriam watching her being diddled by their husbands.

“You woke me and I’m glad, Miriam!” Mavis laughed shakily. “Just give me about half an hour for a quick shower and time to throw on some clothes!”

After showering and briskly drying her opulent body, Mavis quickly selected a snowy mini-bra and matching bikini panties. She hummed softly as she shimmied her firm fanny into the briefs. Leaning forward slightly, she adjusted the half-cups over the proud prominence of her cone-shaped boobies. “Aaaaaaahthh,” she sighed with pleasure as the cool laciness snuggled against her smooth flesh that was still tingling from the shower and brisk toweling.

She slipped into a light linen blouse that buttoned up the front. With a faint smile of satisfaction she inspected her reflection. The blouse displayed the deep cleft between her breasts in a low-cut vee. Then she stepped into a miniskirt and zipped it up the back. The hem struck her at mid-thigh, showing lots of creamy leg.

Before slipping through the gate of the high, chain-link fence, Mavis paused to peer at the lofty, rugged Wasatch Mountains that ringed the Utah capital to the east. They were mysterious, foreboding and beautiful. Then she hurried on to the Carrs’ home. The faraway reverberation of chimes had barely died away and Miriam opened the back door.

“Come in, neighbor,” Miriam smiled warmly. “Connie will be along pretty soon. We had a kind of wild little party last night and she has a slight hangover.”

Mavis sat down at the kitchen table, aware of a tight, nervous feeling, a fluttering tension in her womb. Had she been right? Had the Quentins and the Carrs had a little swap party last night? Would she and Phil have been invited if Phil hadn’t been in Wyoming on an insurance case? The thought was naughtily exciting and frightening at the same time. Phil, on the telephone, had given her no clue how he would have reacted under such circumstances.

She didn’t protest as Miriam laced their coffee with brandy and took a chair opposite her. “Have you thought about our conversation yesterday afternoon, Mavis?”

A tightness in her chest made breathing a little difficult and the tips of her breasts felt icy. “A little,” she said, voice slightly choked. “Phil called last night and…” she paused to sip the brandy and coffee… “I mentioned it to him.”

“Well?”

“He didn’t say much,” Mavis hedged, not wanting to meet Miriam’s excited, glinting eyes. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Oh, Miriam, I’m not sure it’s right — swapping, letting some other woman’s husband do it to you…” Words failed.

“Crap!” Miriam laughed brightly. “He isn’t just doing it to you, you’re getting your jollies from him! Like I said, it adds spice to life and enriches your own marriage. It makes husband and wife appreciate each other that much more!”

Mavis wasn’t convinced; her mind was still assailed by doubt. Had Miriam had Willie Quentin in bed with her last night while her own husband was diddling Connie? Maybe, as she had speculated last night, they had swapped and fucked right in the den!

She gulped at her coffee and brandy. She was dismayed at the sudden torrid sensation centered in the pit of her tummy. Miriam’s hand was on her left wrist. THAT hand had been in her tormented groove yesterday afternoon and it had produced a heavenly sensation. She had never had another woman’s hand on her most intimate place before in her life. It had been a strange and exciting and forbidden pleasure! She wondered if she would submit to it again, if Miriam made a pass. She pressed her thighs together. She wasn’t sure, but she sensed she would let Miriam masturbate her, if she made the gesture!

A sudden surge of shame failed to stem the rising tide of need and passion.

“You may have some doubts right now, honey,” Miriam said, and Mavis detected a tone of nebulous threat behind the bright, lively voice, “but you’ll see things my way — and we’ll all have a wonderful swinging life. What’s better, anyway, than one well-hung hubby, than two or three or four?”

My God! Mavis frowned inwardly. How many different men did Miriam and Connie bed? She may have been a prostitute for a short time, but that was out of necessity. She had never, never considered giving her body to several men — for free! Yet, that seemed to be what Miriam was suggesting.

In the next instant, Mavis was stunned. It was as if Miriam had read her thoughts. “Honey, I know all about those few months right after you graduated from Brigham Young University. Now, don’t be ashamed or frightened. Hank found out about it while he was investigating the theft at the jewelry store where you worked — afterwards.”

Mavis’ entire body felt cold and she thought she was going to faint. My God! Miriam and Henry knew she had been a prostitute! She was speechless. It would just kill her — and Phil — and her marriage if Miriam told other people! Had she told the Quentins? She had never felt such morbid misery in her life. Even her first customer as a young whore hadn’t made her feel this remorseful! And she knew she couldn’t bluff Miriam that she didn’t know what she was talking about. MIRIAM KNEW!

“Don’t worry, honey. Hank and I understand the circumstances. We know you had to do it — no work and all sorts of financial obligations. Lots of girls and women do it for a lot less reason. Now you cheer up! Let’s have another brandy royal. Hank and I have never considered telling anyone else — much less Phil.”

Mavis watched the lithe, agile woman rise to replenish their drinks. Despite Miriam’s words of reassurance, she knew her terrible secret wasn’t safe with them. It was a club over her head. It virtually made her a captive of Miriam, a lever to compel her to do whatever Miriam wanted to do. And what Miriam wanted to do was introduce her and Phil into a wife-swapping ring. Miriam wanted to have Phil in bed and her to screw Henry.

Mavis’ thoughts were in such a turmoil that the coffee and brandy seemed tasteless. This was something she couldn’t confide to her husband! For the very thing she would have to tell him was the thing she thought she didn’t dare for him to ever find out!

“You have met Terry and Mickey Lewis, haven’t you?” Miriam changed the topic of conversation. And Mavis was dully aware of her hostess rising to let the family pet, a well-disciplined boxer, into the house. Vision blurred, she watched the handsome animal trot into the utility room. She heard him rustling and turning before lying down.

“I know them slightly,” Mavis said absently, striving to overcome the shock of having been informed that her neighbors knew she had practiced as a prostitute for a time before marrying Phil.

Returning to her chair, Miriam said, “Connie is having her over tomorrow afternoon. We’re going to teach her to play bridge. You play, don’t you?”

Mavis nodded vacantly. There had been a standing joke at BYU that bridge was an audit course attended between classes.

“Why don’t you join us, honey; it takes four to play.”

There was that impish, secretive tone in Miriam’s voice again. And Mavis’ mind tormented her — play what? A mental picture of Terry Lewis flashed in her mind. She was a small young woman — about five feet, a pixie face and orangish hair. She had been a cheerleader in college. Someone had said she had married Mickey last June right after graduation from Utah State at Logan.

The initial shock of Miriam revealing she knew all about her past was waning and the alcohol was warming her body, the chill was passing. Miriam was so casual and nonchalant, evincing no sign of condemnation and consternation that her neighbor had been a prostitute for a short time. There was an aura of warmth about Miriam and this comforted Mavis. The fact that Miriam could twist her and bend her was slipping into the back of her mind.

The brandy was numbing her sense of reality and Miriam had said she and Henry wouldn’t reveal her shameful secret. Listening to Miriam’s cheerful chatter lulled and soothed her. There was a comfortable air of camaraderie in the kitchen as the two of them sat there, sipping coffee and brandy. Mavis knew she was getting a little drunk, but the deep sense of loneliness was fading. She glanced at Miriam and her mind reminded her — this is the woman who helped you masturbate and gave you such intense pleasure.

And Mavis felt no shame. Instead, a sexy warmth flooded all through her body. Sharp flashes of heat darted up her inner thighs into her crotch and seemed to explode in little boom-booms of miniature rolling thunder deep in her insides, igniting little searing fires that licked through her vagina, from the swollen lips of the vulva into the womb. She glanced across the table at Miriam. “You’re a good friend and neighbor, Miriam,” she muttered, tongue a little thick, sex channel bubbling and burning with sexual need.

Maybe, her slightly fuzzy mind goaded her, Miriam would help her relieve the passionate, tormenting need. Oh, she didn’t want Miriam’s husband, her mind seemed to cower. She suppressed a giggle as a naughty little thought flashed. She didn’t want the police dick’s prick!

Her eyes swung from her coffee cup back to Miriam. Mavis squinted slightly. Miriam seemed unaware that the belt of her shorty housecoat had loosened and the vee at the throat was gaping open dangerously. The lapel folds already had sagged sufficiently that Mavis could see the rich inner surface of the two globes of firm, creamy flesh.

Miriam’s eyes seemed slightly feverish as she returned Mavis’ glance. She is aware, Mavis told herself, draining her cup. And her own pulse jumped. She had heard and read about woman-love.

Lesbianism!

Instead of feeling revulsion, she was conscious of leaping excitement.

“Let’s fill up our cups again and go in the living room,” Miriam said softly, tilting the coffee maker and the bottle of brandy. “Connie should be along pretty soon.”

Lightheaded and slightly uncertain on her feet, Mavis followed the slender woman who was about equal to her own five feet six.

As if by subconscious design, Mavis sat down on the plush davenport. If she were going to get any sex fun from Miriam it would be here. She watched Miriam sit across the long cocktail table from her in a swivel rocker. Miriam’s housecoat was wrapped looser still and Mavis could almost see the full left breast; a part of the dark aureole that surrounded a pointy nipple was visible. As she crossed her legs, Miriam let the two folds of the robe divide on either side of her sleek, tapering thighs. And Mavis wondered if the hazel-haired woman was as naked from the waist down as she was from the waist up.

Mavis sat for a couple of minutes, knees parted to let Miriam gaze on her panty-swathed crotch, then casually crossed her legs. Inner thigh muscles tensed involuntarily, hugging the ripe mound and thick labia. She itched with excitement — there — and had to resist the mounting temptation to scratch and rub and fondle.

“It’s nearly noon,” Miriam pouted. “I wonder where Connie is.”

A little drunk and daring, Mavis blurted out, “Probably playing with herself!”

Miriam’s laughter tinkled deliciously in the still air of the vast room. “Possibly! Perhaps I should call her again.”

Mavis twinged with jealousy at the thought of having a third person there to interfere with possible sex-play between her and Miriam. “Oh, let her be! She’ll be along pretty soon — you said so yourself!”

“All right, honey!” Miriam laughed and winked. “Don’t you, really, think having the affections of three or four men would be more fun than having to settle for just your hubby, Mavis?”

Mavis cowered mentally and she wished that Miriam hadn’t broached the subject again about mate-swapping. “Oh, I don’t know!”

What she wanted to say was… let’s not talk about men; play with my pussy! I’ve never done it, but the thoughts of girl-girl love are exciting! Can’t you see I’m all steamed up and need my cunny cooled off?

Mavis had to refrain from bending forward for a closer look as Miriam leaned across the cocktail table as she uncrossed her legs. Not only did Miriam shave her armpits, but she also shaved her pussy! There wasn’t a sign of pubic growth and the full lips gaped, pouting slightly, and Mavis wondered if Willie Quentin had plowed them apart with the head of his penis last night and shoved his cock through them and into Miriam’s body!

“See this box, Mavis?” Miriam smiled, slowly drawing her thighs together and shielding her shorn groin from Mavis’ eyes.

“Huh? Oh? Yes!” Mavis recovered her poise quickly.

She watched Miriam push it toward her with the tips of her fingers. “Open it!” Miriam invited. A present? Mavis wondered. “For me, Miriam?”

“Perhaps,” Miriam replied and Mavis failed to detect the smirk on her lips and in her voice.

She set the cup on the table and picked up the fancy wooden box. Holding it on her thighs, she freed the brass catches and tilted the lid back toward Miriam. She glanced inside and slammed the lid.

Miriam laughed delightedly. “Open it! No, I didn’t chop off Hank’s business! It’s too precious!”

Feeling a blush stealing up her throat and into her face, Mavis again opened the box and stared closely. A dildo! What, she wondered, did Miriam need one of these things for when she had her husband and Willie Quentin and Lord knows how many others in their circle of swapping friends?

For a minute, Mavis stammered unintelligibly. It was very realistic, every detail of blood veins and glans and hairy testes elaborately recreated. The shaft of the thing was every bit as long as her husband’s nine inches — but it appeared to be at least half an inch thicker!

Again slamming the lid, Mavis found her voice, recoiling from the thought of using such a thing on her own pussy. “What do you need such a thing for?” Her face burned with a fever of embarrassment. She felt a little dirty, just looking at such a contraption in the presence of another woman.

“You might be surprised!” Miriam chuckled with immense pleasure.

Without wanting to, Mavis again opened the box to study the artificial penis and gonads. The testes were the size of golf balls! And the hair on the gadget was as realistic as if it had been taken from a man’s groin.

An amusing thought struck Mavis and she giggled, “Where’s the asshole?” She was tempted to remove the contraption from the box, stroke the long, thick shaft. The skin looked as resilient as that of a real, live hard pecker. She tilted the box slightly and saw that the blunt point had a slit in it — just like the genuine cock!

She was so engrossed in examining the hefty dildo, she was only vaguely aware that the Carrs’ boxer swaggered in. It happened quickly and Mavis saw it only from the corner of her eye and wasn’t sure she had really seen it at all. But she thought Miriam had spread her thighs wide and the stub-nosed canine had swabbed his tongue a couple of times up through Miriam’s smooth, hairless crotch.

Then the chimes fractured the silence and Miriam rose to respond. The dog remained behind, sitting beside Miriam’s chair. Mavis’ eyes followed Miriam as she swept past and she noticed her hostess hadn’t bothered to adjust her robe. A fleshy, uptilted left breast protruded saucily through the floppy vee — and the folds just barely covered her lower region.

Mavis touched the artificial organ experimentally and withdrew her hand, slamming the lid. It felt very realistic, firm and rigid, yet pliable. She glanced at the dog and frowned. Filthy dog! she thought. About two inches of his slick, bright red tool extended from the hairy sheath of skin. Her stomach rolled slightly as the dog bowed his great head between his front legs and he licked nosily at his penis. Then he flopped over on his side and washed his black-skinned balls.

Yet, Mavis was mildly fascinated as she watched the slick rod move in and out of its protective pouch that was swollen with a knob far back toward his rear end.

Mavis’ attention was diverted as Miriam returned, followed by the black-haired Connie Quentin. “Errol Flynn,” Miriam scolded, “get back in the utility room.”

Miriam had returned with a coffee maker and the bottle of brandy. Mavis shuffled over slightly as Connie sat down beside her on the sofa. “Hi, Mavis. God, I had a helluva hangover this morning!”

“Mavis suggested you were late because you might have been playing with yourself!” Miriam chuckled lightly.

Mavis cowered back against the sofa with intense awkward embarrassment. Why had Miriam said such a thing? She waited for an indignant reaction from Connie as Miriam managed three more cups of brandy and coffee.

“God forbid!” Connie snorted, picking up her cup. “I felt so damned queasy I never even thought about it! When I woke up I was in no condition or mood for hard cock or masturbating!”

“It was only a stupid comment,” Mavis said numbly. “I didn’t mean anything, Connie.”

“That doesn’t bother me, hon!” Connie said, patting Mavis’ bare right thigh companionable. Then she giggled. “After what I got last night, I don’t think my twatty was primed for sexy convulsions anyway!”

Mavis watched Miriam and Connie light cigarettes, the tenseness of a minute before evaporating and she felt more comfortable.

“Well,” Miriam said, as casually as if saying ‘Mavis has a headache,’ “Mavis is hard-up and has a needy, greedy vag.”

“What do you expect, Miriam,” Connie defended hugging Mavis’ shoulders, “her stud is out of town and he probably hasn’t given her any for quite a few days.”

If the conversation hadn’t been so casual, Mavis was certain she would have felt mortified. How could these two beautiful women talk so nonchalantly about sex and intercourse and masturbation?

“He’s probably getting all kinds of strange nookey while he’s away,” Miriam said cattily.

Mavis was a little too drunk to feel more than a twinge of hurt. She trusted Phil implicitly, had never even considered he might lay some other woman when he was out of town on business. The thought of him mounting someone else, making love to her with his dexterous dong caused a surging ache in her heart. Would he do that to her — when she wasn’t getting enough nookey, herself?

“I know for a fact Mavis isn’t getting all the cock her canny needs!” Miriam giggled. And Mavis knew she was blushing again. She felt extremely clumsy and ashamed as Miriam continued. “I even helped her get her gun off yesterday afternoon didn’t I, Mavis?”

Mavis couldn’t meet the glittering eyes of her hostess. And she knew that Connie was excited by the conversation by the way she pinched her fingers into the smooth flesh of her thigh.

She wished she could get the box with Miriam’s sex tool off her lap without their noticing. Actually, it might be fun using the thing, but the idea of a dildo in company with other women was repulsive to her.

“Before you came, I was letting her look at my girl’s best friend if her guy’s not around,” Miriam pursued.

In spite of her embarrassment, Mavis was keenly aware of the twinging need deep in her womb. Somehow, intuitively, Mavis knew that she was going to be the object of Miriam’s and Connie’s perverted pleasure.

“Let me see,” Connie said, opening the box. Mavis couldn’t help herself; her eyes were drawn to the huge, artificial hard-on and simulated hairy testes. The slick head drew her attention and her twat fluttered, creating an ache in the area of the cervix. It was so huge! She wasn’t sure her channel could accommodate such a mammoth shaft and bulbous glans.

Connie’s hand had stolen under the hem of Mavis’ skirt and the tips of her fingers were teasing and kneading only inches from her plump, firm mound. The strange hand playing around down there sent little thrills of ecstasy through her pelvis and her loins itched.

Mavis knew, with almost certainty, that these two young women were going to use the dildo on her — she felt like a captive, powerless to resist. Yet, she knew she could jump up and flee to her own house — but her will wasn’t strong enough. As Connie scratched a nail against the sheer panties, grating the coarse pubic mesh, Mavis tried to press her thighs together over her hot snatch. But her knees crept apart, giving Connie’s fingers freer access to her crotch. Mavis leaned back against the sofa, tried to stifle her shallow breathing. She knew she was going to be fucked with the dildo, that Miriam and Connie were going to ply it into her cove and get their kicks from violating her!

With eyes half-closed, she saw Miriam rise from her chair and set aside her cup. Someone took the box with the tool from her hands and she was conscious of being pushed over on the sofa. Hands were pushing her skirt up around her waist and fingers were playing with her tummy. Then there was a fumbling with the waistband of her bikini panties and they were being shucked from around her taut buttocks and down her thighs, off over her feet. She was naked down there!

Gentle, yet demanding hands were pushing her feet up, knees far apart. Fingers were toying with her pussy petals, caressing, pinching, parting. She turned her head and saw Miriam, stark naked, holding the big instrument. She was about to get that huge prod poked into her vagina. And she just knew it was long enough to penetrate beyond the cervix, into the womb. The realization caused her uterus to flutter and ache hungrily.

A fingertip was goading her clitoris, but Mavis couldn’t see that. Between the vee of her upraised thighs she could see Connie’s amused face. And above was Miriam, her hands holding the immense dildo. She released it with one hand, let the big head dangle toward her face. It was so near, Mavis felt her eyes were crossing as she stared in slight fright at the realistic head with the narrow slot in the blunt tip.

“Open your mouth, sugar,” Miriam urged, patting Mavis’ blonde hair. “We must get it moistened; you’ll do that with your mouth.”

Oh, God! Mavis quailed. The thing even smelled like a man’s sex gadget! And she was about to have it thrust into her mouth. Miriam was going to fuck that artificial cock into her mouth — down her throat? “No, no, no!” she whimpered — but her lips parted, mouth opened wide. And Miriam worked the huge knob deep into her mouth and screwed it around. She pried it in deeper and Mavis nearly gagged as the fake cockhead was goaded into her gullet; deeper and deeper and deeper until the hairy balls sagged against her chin and the upper pubic growth tickled her upper lip and nose. Only once when she was working as a prostitute — had she ever had anything like it in her mouth. A customer had given her an extra hundred dollars for oral sex. Now, she was being fucked in the mouth with a dildo! And it tasted salty and musky — just like that man’s hot, hard peter. The only difference was — he only had about four inches of pecker!

Slowly, Miriam withdrew the thing and Mavis was conscious of Miriam and Connie shifting positions. Then — her ass humped and bucked. Miriam was working the big rod into her snatch. Oh, good, good! It was being drilled into her feverish cant, deep, deep — deeper. A finger was rubbing and rasping her extended clit and Mavis knew she was going to have a booming cum before Miriam succeeded in ramming it into the balls.

“I’m going to do it!” Mavis croaked, cheeks of her ass tensing and bouncing for more of the gimmick in her snatch. “I’m cumming!” she howled. “Please! More! Cram it into me! I’m cumming! Fuck it to me fast! I need lots of fucking!”

She didn’t care if Miriam and Connie were laughing, gloating as they shoved the synthetic prick into her body. She was on fire inside and her loins burned, flanks heaved with the effort and pleasure of having the breeding tool socked into her.

There was a grinding, twisting, levering in her vagina and Mavis felt she was about to faint from the erotic, heavenly impulses that stabbed all through her belly. Even her rectum seemed ablaze and she wondered, hazily as she up-fucked her bottom, if it were possible to have a rectal orgasm.

It was! Sensual pleasure was rippling all through her as Miriam continued to fuck her with the big pussy jabber. She wanted to relax and enjoy the cascading waves of enjoyment, but Miriam continued to cram her twat with the thing. Then, as if far away, she heard Connie’s frantic voice.

“Pull it out of her, Miriam! I’m going to eat her pussy! I haven’t had a good piece of hair pie in a long time! And I’m going to gobble Mavis’ snatch! God! Her cunt smells aromatic and glorious. And I’m going to tongue her pussy good!”

CHAPTER FOUR

Mavis only hazily remembered Miriam and Connie dressing her, after they had used her body for their own sport. It was only mid-afternoon and she barely remembered stumbling home. Her vagina burned and ached from the plundering and reaming with the massive dildo and Connie’s voracious mouth.

What was clear in her mind was the animated conversation between Connie and Miriam as they had adjusted her clothing. Connie had asked if “Mavis and Phil would join them.” Mate-swapping!

And Miriam had said it still wasn’t settled — she wasn’t sure Phil would cooperate “but Mavis will play the game our way!” Well, she had already played part of their sex-game, hadn’t she? But, how much further would she have to go? What did they have in mind? Mavis cringed mentally, her body shook as if chilled. Miriam had the lever to force her to do just about anything! She considered running away — but that would mean leaving Phil!

She hurried to the master bedroom and undressed quickly, then showered in a stinging cold spray. Somehow, she knew Phil wouldn’t consent to swapping and swinging with the Quentins and Carrs. And what did Miriam and Connie have planned for the petite Terry Lewis? Was Terry promiscuous — a swinger — or not? Mavis couldn’t even guess.

Even after showering, Mavis’ mind felt saturated with Miriam’s brandy; she was woozy and sleepy. She felt that Phil wouldn’t call again, would be home on Monday. Bare, she slipped into the unmade bed, resolved to sleep through the rest of the day and the night. She would decide tomorrow how to counter Miriam’s threat to expose her past and force her to engage in sex with hers and Connie’s husbands. She sensed that Connie and Miriam didn’t want Phil to fuck them nearly as much as they wanted Mavis to submit to sexual intercourse with their own husbands. Oh, God! Would they watch if they succeeded in their devious plans? The very thought of having Connie and Miriam watch as their husbands screwed her was humiliating!


Mavis awakened early, spirits blithe, and dressed quickly, donning a snug minidress of white silk that zippered down the back. Sleep had restored her mental serenity, thoughts of her lesbian antics the day before with Miriam and Connie fucked deep in the back of her mind.

Humming softly, Mavis fixed and ate a light breakfast. It was still some time before the bridge session with Miriam, Connie and Terry Lewis. She would change the sheets and make the bed, she thought, as she brushed her teeth.

Resolve strengthened in her mind as she rinsed her mouth. She wouldn’t get involved in swapping. She wouldn’t allow herself to be seduced by Willie Quentin or Henry Carr or Mickey Lewis or Dell Emerson. Then her conviction wavered as she thought of Miriam telling Phil that she had worked as a whore! She loved her husband and her body was only for his pleasure — but would he bounce her ass out of his house if he knew about her past?

She was just daintying herself up after sitting on the throne when the telephone rang. She hurried her ministrations with the folds of tissue and flushed the toilet. With panties still draped around her lower thighs, just above the knees, she bobbed to answer it. Surely it wasn’t Connie and Mavis; too early. Phil?

“Hello?” Mavis breathed, trying to tug up her panties with one hand. She was able to hitch them up her legs in front, but the elastic band refused to budge over the lower crown of her rump.

“This is Mr. Quentin, Mavis,” the faraway voice sounded impersonal, slightly severe.

“Golly!” Mavis exclaimed, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. Ten-fifteen. “I can’t work in the store today, I have an engagement to help Connie and Miriam teach Terry how to play bridge.”

There was a brief silence and Mavis squirreled her ass around, trying to get her skivvies up over the smooth loaves. “I know that; Connie told me,” Willie said. “I didn’t call you about working, Mavis — Mrs. Moran. I want you to come down to my office as soon as you can. Something has come up — something disturbing.”

“In a little bit,” Mavis murmured, disturbed by Willie Quentin’s stern tone.

She replaced the receiver and hitched her panties into place, snug over her butt and plush, hairy mound. He actually sounded disturbed and slightly angry, she thought, dressing quickly and hurrying downstairs and getting her purse from the hall closet. For a bit, she thought that the old Ford wasn’t going to start, then it clattered to life and she drove hastily to the store, parking around back near the loading dock.

She entered through a back door and climbed the dimly lit wooden stairs in the storeroom to Willie Quentin’s large comfortable office. There was a large skylight and a small window that looked down on the store. She had been here on several occasions. Willie had had a moderate-sized bathroom installed, as well as a small bedroom. Willie had explained that if an employee became ill, there was a place of comfort for him until a doctor or ambulance arrived. Also, he said sometimes it was convenient to rest for a couple of hours. Mavis knew that Willie often spent sixteen or seventeen hours at the store. A three-person elevator provided quick access from his office to the store.

She knocked on the door and was invited in instantly by an intercom speaker. A buzz told her that the lock on the door was disengaged and she turned the knob and pushed.

Willie Quentin was seated behind his desk, ledgers open before him. Mavis could see the long fluorescent tubes of the ceiling lighting in the store through the small window above and behind his head.

“Is something wrong, Willie?” Mavis asked, a tightness in her throat. She was aware of faint perspiration in her underarms.

“Wrong and disturbing!” Willie frowned, tapping the eraser end of his pencil on the books. “Sit down, Mavis.”

She was aware of his eyes following her as she eased into a leather chair slightly to the right of his desk. His gaze was on her knees briefly as she pushed at the hem of her skirt. “Is it something I did, Willie?” She didn’t really need this job — but it paid enough to provide all of hers and Phil’s groceries and liquor.

“What have I done — or do you think I’ve done?” Mavis demanded, fright worming into her mind.

“It appears, Mavis,” Willie began slowly, “that there is a shortage in store funds. It appears, Mavis, you have been — shall I say tapping the till? I hate to say it, sweetie, but that’s what it looks like!”

“That’s impossible,” Mavis gasped, tense as a rubber band. “Whoever says I stole from the store is a damned liar!” she spat out. That was one thing of which she had never been accused in her life.

“Maybe, maybe not, Mavis,” Willie shook his head, unkempt red hair bobbing, blue eyes icy as he peered at her. “You do realize how embarrassing and uncomfortable this makes me, don’t you, hon? The wife of one of my best friends implicated in minor embezzlement. If you and Phil were short of cash, why didn’t you mention it to me and Connie? Our friends needn’t steal!”

“I didn’t!” Mavis groaned, feeling faint and on the verge of crying. “I wouldn’t steal! We’re not short of funds! This — this whole thing is just simply impossible!” There was a nagging feeling of futility mingled with the needling thought she was being framed.

“And to make it doubly, damnably worse, when I have to report the shortage… your own husband — my friend — might be assigned to investigate the theft. And find out his own wife was the thief!”

“I AM NOT!” Mavis screamed at him, the tears coming now, running down her cheeks, falling from her chin onto her breasts that seemed smothered in the tight, white silk dress.

“We sure as hell don’t want Ben Glover investigating this,” Willie moaned, snapping the pencil in half with one hand and hurling it into a wastebasket.

The name, hazily, was familiar. Ben Glover had helped Phil on the jewelry store theft. And he had been an infrequent guest at the Carr home, had played poker with Willie and Phil and Henry. He had a mean, treacherous and lecherous attitude. She didn’t like him!

Mavis’ thoughts seemed to cascade over each other. She wasn’t guilty, but she could go to the bank and get enough to make good Willie’s shortage. Surely Phil would understand if she spent a couple of hundred dollars on “silly girl whims”. “I didn’t take it,” she sniffled, finding a handkerchief and trying to dry her eyes. “But I’ll get the money and you can replace it? Phil needn’t know about this and I’m sure he won’t complain about a hundred dollars or so.”

“Oh, Mavis!” Willie blurted, “if it were only that much, I’d gladly take it right out of my own wallet! But I can’t cover two thousand bucks! And let you off with a stern, fatherly talking to!”

TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS!

Mavis nearly fainted. She was conscious of Willie opening his desk and setting a bottle and two glasses on the top. Through frightened and tear-streaked eyes she watched him pour the glasses about half full. “Tell you what, honey, if you can get a thousand dollars, Connie and I will chip in the other thousand.”

A THOUSAND DOLLARS!

She sipped at the raw whiskey, barely conscious of the bite and harsh sting. God! Would Phil forgive her for tapping their savings account to pay off something she didn’t owe! And it was generous of Willie to offer to go halfway on the loss! She glanced at his unsmiling face as he perched on the edge of his huge desk.

“I think I can get that much,” she said bitterly, more frightened than ever. “But, please, not a word to Phil. I’ll explain it some way — the thousand dollars withdrawn from our savings.”

Her tear-glazed eyes were drawn to Willie’s slowly swinging foot. It was almost hypnotic. The focus cleared slightly and her gaze traveled idly up his leg — and stopped. It seemed the tented bulge in his pants was abnormally large and her mind idly contemplated how big he was. With that kind of prominence, his balls had to be large and his penis immense!

Mavis’ mind was jarred to reality when Willie spoke, almost harshly. “We better put back the money as soon as possible, then. Christ! There is always the dreadful possibility that if this thing gets out of my hands, Mavis, you could go to prison!”

She gasped from the horrible implication and possibility of being locked up like a common criminal for something she hadn’t done. “But, I didn’t do it in the first place!”

“How soon can you get your thousand dollars, Mavis?” Willie asked, replenishing their drinks. “Everything points to you!”

“This is Saturday — not until Monday.”

She studied his somber expression. “I think I can cover and hold out until then,” he murmured thoughtfully. “As you know, the Saturday receipts of the nine stores in the area are always brought here for a double check, then taken by armored van for night deposit. Even if, by chance, store officials should detect the shortage, it won’t be too difficult to explain an inadvertent error — after all, it would be simple when one person — me — is dealing with something around a quarter of a million dollars.”

Mavis felt a flood of gratitude toward Willie. After all, he was going to use a thousand dollars of his money to help shield her. “I can’t get my thousand until Monday, either, come to think of it. And I’ll have to tell Connie.”

“Well, don’t tell Phil!” Mavis pleaded.

Mavis stopped breathing as Willie’s piercing blue eyes held hers for a long moment, then he looked away. “It’s a big favor I’m doing you, Mavis — a thousand-dollar favor!”

“I know, Willie,” she muttered. And she felt that her agreement was tantamount to admitting she was guilty of embezzling from the store. “I don’t know how I can repay you for absorbing half of the theft — that I didn’t commit!” she added one more effort of self-defense.

“Perhaps not, Mavis,” Willie shook his head, tone weary, “but it occurs to me that there is one little thing you can do for me that will take part of the sting out of my giving up a thousand bucks of my money. Phil need never know… Connie will never know… no one will know — except just us.”

Mavis was aware of a sinking, sickening sensation like a cold lump in her belly. There were strings attached to Willie’s sharing the theft loss with her!

She dreaded asking what it was — but knew she would in a minute. And she knew she would do whatever it was Willie wanted her to do.

“What do you want me to do, Willie?” she asked, feeling hopeless and helpless. She couldn’t meet his gaze, instead dropped her eyes and stared again at his slowly swinging foot. Intuitively, she knew what he was going to demand.

“No one but us will ever know,” Willie repeated softly.

“What the hell is it?” Mavis almost screamed at him.

“Let’s fuck!” he said bluntly.

Mavis was stunned. For a moment her mind wouldn’t function. Yet, she had sensed what he was going to require of her. He wanted to use her body in payment for his big, thousand-dollar favor!

Mavis laughed shrilly, giddily. God! How ludicrous and ironically funny. Before Willie had called her, she had just about made up her mind to defy Miriam and Connie and tell them swapping was out, as far as she was concerned. Yet, now, she was backed into a corner she hadn’t counted on. And Willie had his own lever to get to her. And it seemed more catastrophical than the threat of Miriam telling everyone she had once — only briefly — been a prostitute. All by himself, Willie had a way to get into her panties! The prospect of going to prison was terrifying!

Who could have stolen the money, her mind worried. Dell Emerson? She knew he needed money desperately to continue in law school. And he wanted to marry Becky Samon. But he needed his job at the store. Would he risk losing it by stealing from his employer? Oh, God! Everything was so complicated and confusing.

“Well?” Willie pursued gently, voice mild.

She met his gaze briefly. His eyes seemed kindly and sincere. With a gulp, she disposed of the remainder of the whiskey in her glass and set it on the corner of his desk. She struggled for words. “Just this one time, Willie? That will be it? You won’t pressure me into doing it with you again? Like — like blackmail?”

“My God, no!” Willie grunted, tone of voice injured. “And don’t look at it in that light, Mavis! Just call it a favor for a favor! I’ve admired you for so long. You’re beautiful and alluring! Phil is so lucky to have such a ravishing beauty for a wife!”

“Connie is beautiful, Willie,” Mavis snapped, rising to her feet. Her insides felt cold and she wondered if her unwilling vagina could or would accommodate his instrument. Something in her mind seemed to assume the roll of cold logic — play it like a whore… take him in… work him off fast and get his thing out of you!

With trembling fingers, she fumbled at the buttons of her dress. A torrid lightning bolt lanced through her, seeming to start in her breasts and exploding deep in the womb. “One time and one time only, Willie! I’ll fuck you just this once!”

She slipped her arms out of the dress and let it drape down over her hips. She smiled faintly as he stared at her pale, smooth skin, eyes ogling the luscious breasts that were barely contained by the low-cup bra. His swelling erection was about ready to poke through his zipper. She felt he would blow his wad fast and she would be done with him — wouldn’t even get up a sweat.

She freed the remaining buttons and let the dress fall around her ankles and stepped out of it. Slowly, she turned before Willie, clad in nothing but panties, bra and slippers. Take a good look, she thought, grateful for the whiskey she had drunk. Look good — maybe you’ll unload in your shorts and I won’t have to screw you, after all!

“In the bedroom… in the bedroom!” Willie panted, shucking out of his clothes and stripping down to his shorts. Mavis glanced at him briefly, saw the thick tufts of red hair growing through the slot of his shorts. The ridge of his joint was long and massive, bent off to the left. She could tell the swollen glans were enormous.

She would bet she could give him a few brisk jackoff strokes and his candle would blow apart. But she turned and strode into the bedroom. She stood aside as Willie whipped the bed down to the fitted bottom sheet. She wondered how many times he had done that… how many of his employee had found themselves in the middle of this bed, taking on this big, redheaded man.

The burning in her channel was almost painful and her skin had a tingling sensation of fever. She was about to get it… Willie, in seconds, would be plundering her pussy with his sex log.

Hands behind her back, up between the shoulder blades, Mavis parted the bra hooks and flung it away. At the same time, she kicked off her slippers. As Willie turned, she slipped by him and crawled into the middle of the bed, turned onto her back. She peered at him passively as she drew her knees up and spread them, letting him stare at the sleek, inner planes of her creamy thighs. With both hands she caressed the firm, yet pliable flesh and felt wisps of dark blonde pubic hair that escaped around the leg hems of her panties. She would give him his thousand-dollars’ worth! But she had to stifle a gasp of dismay as Willie shucked his shorts and grasped his shaft with both hands. He had at least nine inches and it was larger around than a bat handle! And with all that red hair on his body, he was second only to an Irish setter!

He was going to fuck her with THAT!

She cowered mentally as he eased onto the bed, on his knees. Her body shuddered involuntarily as he placed his palms on her narrow, pliable flanks. He forced a gasp through her lips as he pressed his thumbs deep into her tender flesh, ground them roughly into her guts. She was surprised at how cool his hands were on her feverish skin. Her fanny bumped slightly and her feet drummed the mattress.

Oh, God! She was going to be fucked by this man — and her body wanted it! Her cunny was fairly crawling with anticipation for the insertion of his massive pecker! “Oh, Phil!” she moaned, wishing, desperately, it was her husband who was going to give it to her, pump her twat full of man meat!

She strained to help him as he threaded his right arm behind her knees and lifted her rump so he could work her skivvies off over her taut ass. He peeled them, wrong-side out, up her thighs and off over her feet. And she was stark naked before his covetous lust-filled eyes.

Shame was only a nagging ping in the back of her mind as she again spread her knees wide, drew her feet up until the heels were snug against the bottom cheeks. She was going to get it — she needed it. And her being fucked by another man was not adulterous in her mind… she wasn’t being promiscuous. Circumstances demanded that she put out to Willie Quentin.

She steadied herself as Willie placed his hands on her knees and eagled them farther apart and crept between her quivering thighs. In seconds he would be burrowing his huge plunger into her and pumping away, deeper and deeper. Then, at the climax of the act, he would hose her snatch full of semen — and her debt to him would be paid. With the fingers of both hands, Mavis parted the labia to reveal the slick, hot rut to accommodate the great head of his prick. She warned it to slide smoothly into her, not grind against dry flesh.

But Willie didn’t dock her hard. Instead, he plopped the massive head into her groove, pushed her hands aside so the folds of her pussy, the outer labia, would cuddle his glans hot and slick and inviting.

“OOOOOHHHHHH!” she moaned as the head of his cock plowed against her swollen clit. She was aware of his hands squeezing her feverish, eager, love-sick breasts. They weren’t hard and cruel — they kneaded and pinched the pointed nipples.

“Pppphhhhhiiiillll!” she yelled. Willie worked the big, blunt knob up and down her greedy furrow. “Wwwwwwiiiiillllliiiiieeeee!” she panted, trying to get her hands down there to guide his sex tusk.

Vaguely, she heard him chuckling softly. She stopped twisting her face from side to side to take his mouth on hers. Mavis reveled in the harsh sensation of Willie biting on her full lips. “Aaaaagggghhhh!” she whimpered in sensual anguish as his tongue parted her lips, licked against her teeth.

Her mouth opened wide and she clamped her teeth down on his rampant, exploring tongue. “Aaaggghh!” she sighed as the tip of his oral fucker explored her mouth.

Tongues jousted and twined.

And he found her hole entry with his cock…

Her knees parted… she flung her feet into the air… she sought her toes with her hands to draw them up toward her head… she expected a brutal plunge of pecker into pussy… but Willie worked the head into her… easy… slowly… and her cunny was craving cock… “Moooorrreeee!” she pleaded.

She felt his cock expanding her… almost heard the creak of her pelvic bones as his prick intruded… “Pppppphhhhhliilll!” she screamed as his cock burrowed deeper and deeper and deeper into her body.

His hands cupped her buttocks, lifting them off the mattress until she was pressed down on her shoulders. On and on IT came… into her tender, pliable body… deeper into her sacred place… further into her vagina.

There was a momentary grating as the head of his cock grazed the hardness at the cervix and plunged on past… deeper and deeper.

Mavis felt with a hand… felt the massive sag of his balls that were heavy and hot and hairy. She was greasing him good! The juices of her vagina were leaking out of her and slicking his great shaft. She knew, in minutes, he would be fucking her!

“Fuck the shit out of me!” she hollered harshly as he sunk his cock up to the balls in her and she felt his nuts plop against her uptilted butt.

Somehow, he had gotten her legs up over his shoulders and had full possession. In seconds, she knew, he would ram another couple of inches of cock into her snatch.

“I’m going crazy!” Mavis gulped. “Give me cock! Pump the prick to me!”

Mavis was aware of tears of shame and remorse streaming from her tightly closed eyes. But she didn’t care. She needed fucking! And Willie was going to give her a masterful banging!

He drew far out of her and her cunny was clutching greedily at the head of his shaft. “Don’t pull your cock out of me!” she howled, trying to hump her ass up to get it back inside of her.

He rammed deep, into the womb with his great post and Mavis gulped, sensing she could almost taste it, it was so deep. Her guts growled. Her asshole itched. Her rectum was on fire.

But that was because he had worked a massive thumb into her butt hole. “Aaaaaahhhhh!” she whimpered, squirreling her rump around, gyrating on his pecker and thumb at the same time.

Whore! Whore! Whore! her mind taunted her. And she said back — Fuck you! I need fucking! I need a man’s cock in my swat! I have been needing a good fuck for more than a week.

“FFFFUUUCCCKKK MEEEE, WILLLLIIIEEE!” she begged as he plugged her hole, corked her sex flask.

His cock, in long smooth, practiced strokes was pistoning in and out of her, batting the head against the bottom of her sex well. Vaguely, she heard his huffing and puffing as he labored, fingers grinding her butt meat, thumb gouging her asshole.

“GOOOOOODDDDD FUCKING!” he growled, like an animal as he plunged in, his balls slap-slapping against her parted fanny buns.

She was knocked for a turn as she came and sensed she was flushing his cock with her sex sap. Lights flashed and she knew she was screaming with sensual satisfaction. “I’m cuuuuummmmming!” she screamed, bouncing her ass up, grinding her splayed crotch against his laboring groin.

“You fuck good, baby!” Willie grated in her ear, pumping his meat to her. Faster and faster. Mavis felt it expanding, twitching, pulsating. She knew he was about to cum and wanted his jizz squirting her sex cove full of his thick cream. “Give it to me, Willllllilliiiee!” she howled, locking her ankles around his neck.

CHAPTER FIVE

The boxer has a hard-on!

That was the first thing Mavis noticed as she walked into the Quentin home. At least two inches of his dick protruded from its thick-skinned pouch.

Her mind was like a void. She barely remembered struggling into her clothes, recalling Willie saying, “One helluva thousand-dollar fuck!”

He had left and she had floundered around, found the bottle in a drawer of his desk, had taken a hefty swig and then went home. Miriam had been waiting for her. Numbly, she had insisted that Miriam wait with her, have a drink, while she showered and dressed.

Then they had gone to the Quentins’. They were going to teach Terry Lewis how to play bridge. Mavis suppressed a giggle.

She couldn’t play bridge — not today! But she sure knew something about fucking! Willie Quentin was a master at plugging a girl’s pussy!

And that damned dog!

He had a hard-on! Big and red and slick! Mavis, as if in a dream sat down and nodded to Terry, the little girl… former cheerleader… cute… pixie face… orangish hair.

Could anyone tell she had just had a fantastic screw from Willie Quentin? God! He had a mammoth cock — educated! The way he could pry it around and lever it inside a woman’s pussy!

That damned dog! Sniffing!

“I’m a little tight,” Mavis mumbled. “I don’t think I can be of much help, teaching someone to play bridge.” But not tight in my pussy! Willie had expanded that!

“Well, who cares?” Connie demurred, passing around a tray with four glasses of vodka and grapefruit juice. “Maybe another day.”

That damned dog has a big sex-bone, Mavis quailed.

But the dog was sniffing in the direction of Miriam and Terry. Why had Miriam brought her dog along? Mavis worried. She had heard things…

And he sniffed under Miriam’s skirt and Miriam didn’t bat his clipped ears. Then he wiggle-butted across the room and nuzzled Terry’s bare knees. Was she innocent? Was she a swinger? Mavis wished she were sober!

Remorse — over what had happened a short time before — was buried deep in her mind. Mavis sobered slightly, slowly, as she sipped the stiff vodka drink. She glanced over the brim of her glass at Terry Lewis. There was a wild, eager, frantic gleam in her eyes.

Her gaze seemed lewd to Mavis. She addressed them all, even though she called Connie’s name. “Show me, please. I want to know! I want to do it — have him do it to me! But I’ll need help. You’ll probably have to hold me! In my mind, it’s repulsive! But I want it!”

Mavis’ gaze swung with Terry’s. Her eyes went to the boxer… to his bag of balls and pointed prick. Mavis suppressed a gasp of surprise and distaste as she watched Miriam lean over and clutch the dog’s sex pouch — jack him off gently until another inch or so of his prick crept out.

A sensation of exultation crept into her mind. The dog wasn’t for her! She wouldn’t be degraded and humiliated by an animal! He was for the petite Terry! Excitement exceeded her sense of contempt.

She watched Miriam motion with her hand, send the dog across the room, stick his dark muzzle — boldly — up under Terry’s short skirt. Her knees quivered apart. Just a couple of inches and the dog’s blunt snout wasn’t anywhere near her sex-seat.

But the young woman’s eyes were glazed. “You’ll have to help me — make me!” Terry trilled.

Mavis cringed inwardly. A dog fucking a human female! And the girl was asking — inviting — it! Her snatch had been sated by Willie’s mammoth prick — and she didn’t want it! Somehow, the idea of watching a young woman — beautiful as Terry was — get fucked by a dog was perverse… but enchanting!

God! The dog had a magnificent cock! Mavis couldn’t prevent the muscles in her cunt from crawling… “Ugh!” she murmured to herself.

Then, her mind struggled with the question. HOW?

And Connie and Miriam were giggling conspiratorially.

Mavis stared. Terry’s sleek thighs were drifting farther and farther apart. And the boxer knew what was up there! He was sniffing loudly and pushing his muzzle farther under the tender girl’s dress. He knew! She had tender pussy up there! And he was going to get into it! Lap it! Lick it! Fuck it — with his red, slick pole!

“You’ll have to make me!” Terry yipped in protest, clamping her knees together and shutting off the dog’s progress.

Mavis glanced from Miriam to Connie, watched them finish their drinks slowly, set their glasses down and lean forward. “Let’s give her to him!” Miriam said brightly. “Come and help us, Mavis!”

Mavis remained in her chair, watched as Connie and Miriam stood and converged on Terry. She scowled as she watched Miriam stoop and masturbate the dog for a moment.

Then they tugged Terry from her chair. Connie held Terry’s arms as Miriam scooped hands up under her dress and hauled down Terry’s silkies. There was a brief struggle… the dog sloshed his huge red tongue over Terry’s taut crotch. The dog knew he was going to sink his bone in the girl’s treasured gash. And Mavis suspected he had a jobber big enough to make her hole smoke and make her yell. Mavis had seen animals fuck — and they could really poke it in and out of a pussy. REALLY FAST!

Then, as if in a dream, Mavis watched the small girl stripped stark naked and the dog was really laboring his gulping tongue over her flat tummy and trying to swab it between her milky thighs. He nibbled daintily at her light-colored pubic mat and Terry whimpered.

“Want it from the belly or the back, Terry?” Miriam gurgled as she and Connie held her arms, twisted behind her back. Mavis’ eyes opened wide as she watched Miriam maul one of the perfect breast cones and tweak the nipple cruelly.

“Oh, God! You’ll have to make me! I wwwwwaaaannnnttttt to try it! But his thing is so big and ugly!”

“This beats bridge!” Connie yelled in triumph as she and Miriam tugged Terry into the middle of the floor. Connie toed an ottoman away from an easy chair. She and Miriam stepped on Terry’s feet and forced her backwards, over the low object.

The dog knew what to do.

He came up on her, between the out-flung thighs.

“Guide him into her!” Miriam shrieked at Mavis. “Hold his cock so he can fuck it into her!”

Mavis hesitated.

“Do it, damnit! Or I’ll tell a few things!”

The dog’s thing was protruding and protruding. Thicker and thicker, redder and redder. And his rump was fuck-fucking fruitlessly. And Mavis crept across the floor…

“Oh, God, no! I changed my mind!” Terry screamed.

But there was no salvation for Terry Lewis. Connie and Miriam wouldn’t let her up. And, timidly, Mavis gently grasped the boxer’s balls with her right hand and his dark red shaft with her left. She pressured forward with her hand on his balls until the tip of his cock dug into the girl’s dainty vulva, the sharp point prying the lips apart.

He knew where to go… and buried his bone deep in her wretching body. His toes danced on the thick carpet and he stabbed her deep. Instinctively, Mavis massaged… jacked him off through the thick skin of his cock jacket and felt the knob swelling. He has a magnificent cob, she marveled, bending her head to watch him knife it into the girl.

Terry’s feet flew into the air and her ankles locked over the hunching animal’s back.

“Aaaaaaaaaanh!” Terry whimpered as the dog flung his cock into her. Mavis saw the huge knob coming out of the pouch. The dog was bouncing it against the splayed lips of the vulva.

Then he crammed it all into the tight hole, past the yielding pelvic bones and he had his bone buried in Terry Lewis’ dainty, fragile body. He humped away in short, gouging strokes, deep in her insides.

Miriam and Connie were panting with perverted pleasure as they held the girl bent over the ottoman. And Mavis stroked the black-skinned balls…

And Terry suddenly wheedled, “Fuuuuuck me! I’m being fucked by a dog! It’s so good… being fucked by a dooooog! And his big knob is stuck in me! I can hold his cock in me because his knob is locked in my twatittty!”

And the dog had it in her snatch good. Mavis leaned back as Miriam and Connie released Terry’s arms and scooted away to watch. It was plain the dog wasn’t going to give up soon. He wasn’t going to turn around ass-to-ass. He was going to stay hung in the young woman until he was ready to soften and unlatch.

Terry clenched a handful of her close-cropped hair and with her other hand, she played with one of the boxer’s ears, tweaked his nose and let him lick her fingers. She guided his great tongue to her tits and started moaning and bumping her fanny as he licked in great slurps across the perfect mounds of beauty.

Then he began pumping it in and out of her again in short, spearing strokes and Terry came again and again. The ball near the back of his cock must have been the size of an orange. It was lodged — stuck — in her snatch. It would never come out — his cock — accidentally. Terry held his dick in her pussy with the inner tension of coital muscles and her thighs clenched around his body.

Mavis took the drink Connie offered her, fascinated, hypnotized by the uncanny sight of a dog fucking a woman. And Terry was loving every plunge of his prick and the big ball wedged inside her vagina. Mavis wondered if the sex stick was stuck all the way into Terry’s womb.

“Is he shoving it into your uterus?” she suddenly asked, impulsively.

“Is — he — ever!” Terry panted. “I’m blowing my fuck-gasket again!” She writhed and grunted and up-butt-fucked to get all of the dog’s cock. “I’d like to have his big knob in my ever-lovin’-fuckin’-womb!”

The boxer knew his business. He hunched forward brutally, burying his prick deep in Terry and he gobbled a beautiful tit, gently, into his lascivious mouth and Terry exploded, reached to grab the dog’s nuts in both hands and pull his ass toward hers.

“He’s shooting a gallon of hot jizz into my swat!” Terry squalled with erotic delight.

Mavis could see Terry’s tight butt hole flutter and spasm and seem to work in and out. Mavis felt faint her vision seemed to spin and her tummy felt all swimmy. She realized that watching the session of sexual intercourse between Terry Lewis and the boxer had greatly stimulated her pussy and it was all sticky and hot.

Passion was raging like an inferno through her vagina and roaring into her womb. She fumbled her empty glass away and twisted her body around to lie on her stomach. She was conscious of a humming in her ears, of her breath whistling through her flared nostrils. Vaguely, she was aware of cool, adept hands shuffling under the short hem of her dress, of her panties being peeled off over her tensed rump and down her long, tapering thighs.

She had no resistance to the pairs of hands lifting her butt into the air, pushing her knees up and apart from her flanks. Fingers were playing around with her hot vulva, parting the thick petals. She shuddered as something hot mopped into her wet, sticky groove.

“Oh, my God!” Mavis whined. Miriam and Connie had gotten the dog’s dick out of Terry, had turned him away from the small woman’s body and were pointing him onto her. She felt her pussy crawling and squirming as the thick, hot tongue plowed through her vulva and rasped tantalizingly over her anal opening, up and down the crack of her ass. “Oooooh!”

And he was mounting her! She could feel his hairy underside against her buttocks, the loaves fanned apart with involuntary anticipation. God! her mind quavered. Just a few hours before, she had been screwed by Willie Quentin! Now, she was about to be fucked by a big animal!

His forelegs were locked around her narrow waist and she felt his lolling tongue between her shoulder blades. Mavis’ head was twisted to her right. She opened her eyes and could see the dog’s right hind leg dancing between her legs as he positioned himself. The sharp point of his prick skidded up and down her fanny crease, almost penetrated her asshole. But it glazed on past — downward — and speared her throbbing pussy. His knob was still there, ready! He hunched forward and Mavis stiffened against his weight and pressure.

“Aaaaaaaaggggggghhhhh!” she grunted, the sound turning into a soft, wailing scream as he drove his cock home, knifing it all the way into her pussy, lodging the big, hot ball behind her pelvic bones. And she knew how Terry had felt! It was ecstatic! It was exotic! It was heavenly and he punched her pussy vigorously and she swirled into a ravaging orgasm that seemed to sear her mind.

“Oooooohhhhhh!” she shuddered, back-fucking her ass to meet his rapid humps and pumps and hunches. She knew, later, she would feel revulsion and shame. But right now she was getting the fucking of her life from the dog’s long, thick, burning prick.

Pump-pump! Prick slammed into her uterus.

Sloosh-sloosh! Big cock-knob batted around just inside her sex tunnel.

“Fuck-fuck! Fuck-fuck! Fuck-fuck!” she heard the words clearly and realized they were coming from her sex-tormented mouth. “Fuuuuuccccckkk meeeeee!” she yelled.

Then, minutes later, she was flooded with liquid fire as the dog plunged his cock deep into her and flooded her funnel full of his steaming animal semen.

Instinctively, Mavis drew her knees together, thighs clenching, capturing the animal’s rigid shaft and large knob in her wretching and spasming tube.

Vaguely, dimly, she was aware of his plaintive whining as he tried to back out of her, but she held him tight. His forepaws were on the small of her back, just above the taut, fleshy buns. And he was swiveling around. His entire sex auger was twisting inside her. One of his hind feet was lifting… and he was stepping over their welded connection. And they were asshole to asshole. His massive cock was bent back between his hind legs, firmly secured in her voracious cunt. And the hard, blunt clipped tail was gouging at her anus as he struggled to crawl away, drag his prick out of her pussy.

She was aware of Miriam urging her to raise up on her elbows. It was a struggle. Mavis was sapped from her super-sensual experience. But she accomplished it. Miriam’s hands parted the bodice of her dress and her fingers slid inside the filmy bra to fondle the hard-tipped tits.

And back there… Connie was playing with the dog’s balls, keeping his cock hard inside her burning cunt. And the dog shot again. His gushing, fiery honey cascaded all through her snatch and catapulted Mavis into another shattering climax.

“Oooooohhhm, dear!” she whimpered. “Myyy God!” she quavered. “I’m cumming again!” She drew a deep breath. She sobered slightly. “I’m being fucked by a dog!”

More than ever, she felt she was a sex captive, at the mercy and caprice of Connie and Miriam. And hadn’t Willie gotten to her? She was his captive, too! He had promised she would have to do it with him only one time, but Mavis sensed, intuitively, he could get to her again, if he pushed the demand. And Hank Carr had a lever, if he were inclined to fuck her!

“My God!” she wept softly, involuntarily pushing her firm breasts into Miriam’s massaging palms. Probably, there would be no swap to it… she was a sex toy for all of them!

She opened her eyes and met the lewd stare of Terry Lewis. The elfin girl was no innocent. She liked her sex. What about her husband, Mickey? His wife had just had her first copulation with an animal. Would she, Mavis, be forced to submit to Mickey’s fucking?

Oh, my God! What if they threatened to tell Phil anything and everything?


Was it an hour later? Two hours? She had no recollection of relaxing her pussy and releasing the dog’s slick red prick from her pussy. Only vaguely, she remembered, stumbling to her feet, grabbing her panties and wiping the dog’s juices from her inner thighs. She crammed them into her crotch to soak up the remaining flow of his cum and slipped from the house. Miriam and Connie seemed oblivious to her departure. Miriam was introducing the tiny Terry to her dildo; Connie was squatting on Terry’s face, forcing her to eat her pussy…

CHAPTER SIX

In the safety and seclusion of her own home, Mavis stripped and bathed, consumed by thoughts of guilt at having let Willie lay her — and getting drunk and letting the Carrs’ boxer diddle her cunny with his slick pecker. Almost ill, she washed out her twat again and again.

Still stark naked, she prowled through the house and tried to deaden her memory with liquor. She knew that if she didn’t get thoroughly drunk, she would cry all night. And she still had Sunday to live through before Phil got home Monday.

“I’m a snockered slut,” she moaned with self-recrimination. “But Willie would have let me go to jail over somebody else’s theft, if I hadn’t let him fuck me! And I was too drunk to know what was happening to me when the dog screwed me!” she rationalized.

But Willie had given her a lot of cocking — and she had been needing it for quite a while. And Connie’s husband really knew how to fuck, ball a girl! She shuddered. And the boxer was one of the best fucks she had ever had!

“Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh, nooo,” she wept softly, surprised that no tears came. “Did I — NO, I didn’t enjoy being fucked by Willie and that beast!” But hadn’t she?

Her vagina was all soppy and crawly as her mind toyed, suddenly, with the erotic recollection. Was she really a rotten, fuckin’ slut? But she was in their grips! If they said “fuck”, she would fuck; if they said “suck”, she would suck! She would do their perverted bidding.

She was a prisoner of their corrupt whims! There probably, would be no mate-swapping! She was just a tool for their sexual greed!


Mavis awoke about mid-morning Sunday. There was a burning itch in her vagina that communicated itself to her rectal channel. She writhed under the light bed clothing and opened her eyes slowly. A good night’s sleep had been good for her; her spirits were brighter and the events of the day before — being screwed by Willie and the dog — weren’t nearly as repulsive as they had been the night before.

She slipped from bed and strode naked to the bedroom window. She gripped the cord and whipped the drapes aside, then frowned. It was raining. Her eyes swept across backyards — and saw Connie and Miriam cavorting in the downpour, wearing bikinis. For July, it had to be a warm and unexpected rain. Through the open window, she could smell the warm freshness.

Mavis smiled broadly. Connie and Miriam seemed to be having a crazy time, just running and prancing about in the rain. “Why don’t you take off those silly bikinis?” she said aloud. “They don’t hide much, anyhow!”

She watched for several minutes, then slipped into a short dressing gown, and went downstairs. She made toast and ate it with a glass of orange juice and a cup of strong, black coffee. As she munched the toast, she reviewed what she had to do — get a thousand dollars from the bank and think of some excuse for Phil. Maybe she could tell her husband that her brother called and begged for a loan that he would pay back as soon as he could. Well, he never would. But her story wouldn’t be checked, Phil didn’t like her lazy brother.

Her second cup of coffee Mavis laced with a double-shot of whiskey. She felt a little smug; that story would suffice. Oh, Phil might raise hell for a few minutes, but his anger would subside. Better that than have a scandal over stealing money from the store. And she might go to jail and lose Phil!

Yet the unpleasant thoughts didn’t submerge her into melancholy. However, one thing did perplex her — it seemed that Miriam and Connie got an abnormal pleasure from the sex antics of others. Yet, Connie seemed cut from a little different cloth than Miriam. Hadn’t she lost her composure and eaten Mavis’ pussy with absolute, greedy abandon? And hadn’t Mavis seen her push her snatch onto Terry’s mouth?

Idly, suddenly feverish Mavis wondered what it would be like to tongue out another woman’s swat. How would it be to put her lips on Miriam’s clean-shaven vulva and kiss it deeply? Then dip the tip of her tongue into the hot, wet, slick petals and suck on the little clit-thorn!

“I’ve got to stop thinking like this,” she muttered, shaking her head, clenching her thighs over her cushiony pillow and grinding the pussy mesh. She poured bourbon into her cup and filled it with coffee.

Mavis was baffled by her carnal thoughts. Even when she — those few months — had engaged nightly in her promiscuous pursuit of money, she had retained a distinct dignity and pride. It had been a necessity, selling her body to men, but now her mind engaged in all sorts of sex fancies! Her vagina seemed to be a ravenous glutton for hard penis with an appetite that would never be sated.

“Lord, oh, Lord!” she moaned, grinding her smooth thighs together to apply delicious pressure on her thick prissy lips and the prickling clitoris that had turned hot and hard.

Her musing was shattered rudely by the chimes. Someone was at the back door. Flustered, she jumped to her feet and adjusted the robe and its sash to cover any trace of her nakedness. Then she hurried to answer the beckon.

Her eyes widened as she stared out at Connie Quentin and Miriam Carr. They were dripping wet, still wearing their bikinis. “You two look like a couple of drowned cats!” Mavis laughed, holding the door wide.

“Wet pussies, you mean,” Miriam grinned, slipping inside and back-swatting Mavis’ rear as she passed.

“Sopping wet, hot pussies,” Connie amended, quickly kissing Mavis with rain-wet lips and pinching a tittie through her robe. “Got a couple of towels for these two crazy cants?” Miriam asked, patting at the water that was running down her wet body.

Mavis skipped into the utility room and brought back two beach towels she had stored there. She stopped abruptly. Miriam and Connie had stripped off their skimpy bathing suits and stood there naked, without modesty or concern.

“Sometimes I wish I had the nerve to shave off my pussy bush,” Connie said, taking a towel from Mavis. “I’ll dry you, you hairless bitch and you can do the same for me.”

Watching the two towel each other’s bodies, paying adoring attention to breasts and crotches and buttocks was more than Mavis could stand. “I’ll fix you two a couple of coffee royals,” she said, slipping away toward the kitchen.

Mavis was openly fascinated by the two nude women sitting with her at the breakfast nook. The brisk rubbing with rough towels had popped their nipples out, dark and hard and pointed. “Did Willie give you a little last night?” Miriam teased.

“Heck, no!” Connie frowned. “He said he was all zapped out! I wonder who? I have a suspicion some other woman’s monkey has been gobbling my hubby’s meat-banana!”

Mavis sensed herself blushing, hoped that Connie and Miriam didn’t notice. Willie had fucked her! Yet, she felt certain he hadn’t told his wife about it, Connie was leering at Miriam. “I think I know whose animal got his meat!”

Miriam giggled appreciatively and looked away as she sipped her coffee and whiskey. And Mavis was relieved; Connie was, undoubtedly, referring to the night before when the Quentins and Carrs had swapped!

“Besides, last night was Saturday — the night Willie has to tabulate receipts of all the stores in the Salt Lake City area and get it into the armored van. I’m sure he gets uptight with all that money in his office and virtually no security.”

Mavis watched Miriam nod, “Hank says the store officials are stupid; it would be easy to rob them — Willie.”

“And,” Connie agreed, “Willie handled a little more than $275,000 last night!”

“With that kind of responsibility, no wonder he had a limp, limber dingus!” Miriam chuckled, reaching to tweak Connie’s right nipple.

“Keep your sexy hands to yourself! Don’t start something you can’t finish!” Connie chirped, recoiling with mock indignity.

They were silent as Mavis freshened the drinks. Then Connie pouted, “Willie says the guys are going to play poker Monday night; he hopes Phil gets home and will join in.”

Mavis hoped her dissatisfaction didn’t show. She wanted Phil to herself his first night home.

“Who all is going to play?” Miriam broke up Mavis’ thoughts.

“He said if they can count on Phil, there will be Willie and Hank and Mickey and that old fart, Ben Clover,” Connie counted off on her fingers. “Willie says five players makes a good game.”

“And what do we women do while the men are playing cards?” Mavis continued to pout, feeling a cold gnawing deep in her tummy.

“Why, you’ve been to their card parties, honey!” Miriam chided. “We keep their glasses filled, sandwiches in their greedy hands and slap their hands when they sneak a feel and play grab-ass!”

“I think,” Connie said slyly, “that our dear Mavis is looking forward to a jounce in the hay and having her pussy poked on Phil’s first night home from Cheyenne.”

“Awwww, come on, honey!” Miriam hiccupped. “Don’t tell us you haven’t had enough cums in the past couple of days to take the edge off your pecker yearnings! There were all the things Connie and I did for you — and you did for yourself — and you even — took so much out of old Errol Flynn the boxer that he wasn’t even interested in my slot last night when Hank had to work a double shift on Robbery Detail!”

Mavis reddened, then grinned in good humor. “If Phil wants to play poker with the guys, it’s okay!”

The silence grew heavy for a few minutes and Mavis sensed apprehension building as she peered at Connie’s sly smile and sparkling eyes.

“If you should need a little sexing, Mavis-honey, I bet I know where I can get you some,” Connie smirked.

Not your damned husband! No one! Mavis rebelled mentally.

“I bet I can get Dell Emerson to crawl your gorgeous frame and give you a lusty fuck!” Connie pursued.

“Good, God, NO!” Mavis flushed.

“Come on!” Miriam interjected. “You really got your jollies from Errol Flynn! He fucked you good and you were still begging for more long, hot cock in your swat!”

“Good Lord!” Mavis quailed, absently filling their cups with bourbon and coffee. “I was half-drunk! I didn’t know your dog was going tuxedo it to me!”

“But you didn’t resist,” Connie chided. “You even bucked and fucked right along with his hunching the cock to you! Well, I bet I can get Dell Emerson to plug your pussy with his young stud prick!”

“Nooooo!”

She almost swooned when Miriam said tersely, “And I’ll bet I know something that will convince Mavis to take him oh!”

“Whaaaaant?” Connie giggled.

“My business — if Mavis doesn’t consent to cooperate,” Miriam winked, gloating. “Right, Mavis-honey?” When Mavis kept silent, Miriam said eagerly, “Get Dell here! You can, can’t you? Right now!”

“Oh, God! Please, no!” Mavis pleaded.

“Yes!” Connie bubbled, springing to her feet and running naked into Mavis’ living room to the telephone. When she returned, Miriam said thoughtfully, “After Dell bangs Mavis, I might enjoy some of his twang, myself! He’s a young, handsome stud!”

“Maybe we’ll all get a little sex-servicing!” Connie booted, gulping her coffee royal. “He’ll be here in about twenty minutes. Mavis? You got a couple of spare robes or something? We don’t want to startle all of the starch out of his pecker by letting him walk in on us naked!”

Mavis glared at Miriam, knowing the threat she implied concerned the short time she had hustled her fanny as a prostitute. “Upstairs, to the right, in the big closet.”

She felt helpless. She was going to be fucked by yet another man. And Connie and Mavis were going to watch him pump the prick to her! Her sense of desolation was too great to even consider pending humiliation.

Oh, damn! Her sex orifice was a burning tube! Even her rectal region was searing, tormenting fire. No! No! No! Mavis wallowed in misery. She was going to be fucked again and her body was craving a man — his hard meat!

She was unaware that she was drinking straight bourbon. All her mind could deal with — her conscience — was the reality that soon she would be naked with a man on her, in her, fucking her!

She had never felt more a captive of someone else’s will and demands in her life. She was naggingly aware of her knees creeping apart, of cool air on her feverish pussy, of a spasming in her vagina. Her body wanted a man’s long, thick, hard cock!

“Ooooooooothhhhh!” she sobbed quietly, baffled that no tears flowed from her eyes.

Dully, numbly, Mavis shuffled to her feet to answer the chimes sounded at the back door. She hesitated a moment, checked her robe, careful it was protecting her modesty. Dumbly, she stared at the tall Dell Emerson. His hair was mussed slightly and she thought absently he had probably done it when he removed his stock apron.

“You need me?” Dell asked, eyes intense. “Mrs. Quentin called and Willie sent me over. What’s the matter? What do you want?”

How, Mavis fretted, can I tell you that you are here to fuck me? We are going to fornicate while Connie and Miriam watch because they are going to force us to! Why don’t you take your viriled dick and run away? “Come in,” Mavis said flatly. “I’ll get you a cup of coffee royal — you may as well get a little drunk.” She didn’t wait for his response, but turned and led the way into the dining room where she got a cup and mixed a coffee royal — half and half. Buster, she thought, gulping her own cold booze, you wanted to have me a day or two ago. Now you will! You’re going to fuck me because I don’t want Miriam telling on me — and Connie knows something that will keep you from saying no! Well, buddy-boy Dell, after you diddle my hole, you better not go around telling other people! Just fuck me, drop your rocks, enjoy your screw and keep your damned mouth shut!

“I’d better not drink,” Dell hedged. “After I do whatever it is you need, I have to get back to the store.”

“Yes, Dell, drink up!” Connie crooned as she and Miriam returned from upstairs.

Mavis noticed that the two beautiful women were deliberately careless about flashing their legs for Dell’s eyes and their ripe mounds were daringly obvious.

“Mavis, you’ll do it,” Miriam said tersely, eyes glinting a little cruelly. “Dell’s here — and you’ll let him!”

She didn’t say anything, felt helpless and cornered.

“What?” Dell asked.

Mavis watched Connie push Dell into a chair and lean toward him. Mavis knew that Dell couldn’t help but see down the front of the robe that Connie wore. His eyes seemed to pop a little bit and Mavis knew he was able to ogle her luscious bosom. For a second, she thought he was going to snake a hand inside and grab a plump, firm tittie.

“Whhhhaaaaatttt? Oh, no!” Dell protested, voice swimming with amazement, disbelief.

“Why not?” Connie purred, tousling his short-cropped hair. “You’re a man — and I’ll bet you aren’t getting any from Becky!”

Mavis suspected Connie had whispered the proposition to him.

“And if you don’t agree, how would you like it if I told my husband to fire your ass? Jobs are scarce and I know you’re barely struggling by, trying to save money during the summer for law school in the fall. And how do you think the law firm where Becky works would react toward you if my husband should call — very indignant — and tell the lawyers that you had made sexy passes at me? And I’ll bet you would lose Becky, too! The best thing all around for you to do is give Mavis a good fucking and enjoy it!”

Please! Please! Please! No! Mavis’ mind cried in resistance to the humiliation that was about to be heaped on her. She glanced up, looked away. Dell’s pain-filled eyes were trying to read whether this was what she wanted. She didn’t want him to think she was a wanton slut who had other women find her a stud.

“Mavis,” Miriam nudged her softly, threatening. “I’ll just tell Phil — at first… if you don’t consent, then others!”

You bitchy beast! Mavis recoiled, surprised that her hate for Miriam and her blackmail wasn’t intense — as it should have been. “Where?” she said dully, aware of Connie’s hands slyly unbuttoning Dell Emerson’s shirt. He seemed so shocked he didn’t notice. As for herself, she felt an overall chill flowing over and through her body. Her thighs were clamped together and her vulva seemed dry and icy.

A woman could take in a man’s hard-on whether she wanted it or not! But how could they force a man to screw if he didn’t want to. In the first place he had to have a hard jock or it wouldn’t penetrate. Could Miriam and Connie get Dell hard?

“Upstairs, in your bedroom!” Miriam gloated triumphantly.

“Not in Phil’s and my bed!” Mavis rebelled harshly, not looking at any of them.

“In the living room, on the couch!” Connie hooted softly. “It’s like ours; it folds down and makes into a double bed!”

“Come on!” Miriam commanded as she and Connie rose and started toward the living room.

Mavis knew she was more than a little drunk. “No one is going to fuck me in my bed except my husband!” she whined. But no one heard her. She was surprised that Dell Emerson had followed Miriam and Connie so immediately. After a minute, resigned, she rose shakily and shuffled reluctantly toward the living room. She paused and stared at the couch that had been let down. To her it seemed to represent a sacrificial altar on which she would be subjected to adulterous indignity for the obtuse sexual pleasure of Connie and Miriam. How could she have ever considered them her two closest neighborhood friends? Because they were the only ones she knew in the area. And she wondered how Terry Lewis felt today, after — they had pinioned her and introduced her to bestial intercourse. Yet, if she remembered correctly, from what Terry had said, Terry wanted the experience of being screwed by an animal!

She was unaware that gentle tears had started, blurring her vision. Miriam and Connie seemed like wicked strangers to her. She could see that Connie had stripped Dell to the waist and his muscles were quivering as he stood stolid, deeply, emotionally agitated.

“What do you want me to do?” Mavis’ voice quivered, unable to take her eyes from the flattened couch. If she were going to be fucked, she wanted to get at it, get it over with!

As if hypnotized, Mavis watched Connie work adroitly with Dell’s clothes, drop his pants and shorts down around his ankles. She was surprised; Dell didn’t have a ready hard-on — but he wasn’t shriveled with shame and dismay, either! There was a certain puffiness in his penis and his husky testes were lifted midway in their sac. Somehow — from experience — Mavis knew that he was well-hung, would have a master cock if Miriam and Connie succeeded in getting it fully erect! Mavis shivered involuntarily as little shock waves of erotic expectation sparked through her. It was purely a physical reaction — her mind was filled with revulsion!

Mavis couldn’t quell the ripples of excitement as she watched Connie’s hands on Dell’s lithe body, rubbing his muscled belly, his legs, inner thighs — carefully avoiding touching his balls and penis. And Miriam’s hands were massaging Dell’s lean buttocks pinching and squeezing and kneading. Mavis’ eyes focused on Dell’s privates as his nuts rolled up and down, his pecker twitched. Yes! They were getting him ready — whether he wanted to or not! They would be able to get him in shape to fuck!

Mavis inched forward, fascinated. She had seen felt, guided a lot of cocks into her cunt. But Dell’s penis was a marvel. He had been circumcised; there was absolutely no foreskin at all. His penis, slowly gorging with blood, was like a peeled wiener. The blood veins now, were filling and ridging along the sides and top of his thickening dong. He was going to have a huge prick, long and thick. Even his balls seemed to be enlarging as Connie continued to tease and caress his belly and inner thighs, the tips of her thumbs just barely goading his scrotum.

Dell’s body continued to tremble and his stem was rising, extending, extending. It was going to be a long, tight-skinned pole with a blunt point. The slit in the head was gaping and Mavis could see the slick pinkness from which thick cream soon would be pouring into her.

Dell’s cock was reaching full extension. It was so long and heavy it sagged away from his crotch, lifting his bag of balls. The veins along the side were like blue cords under the dark brown skin. Mavis was vaguely aware of Miriam leaving him and slipping up beside her. She made no effort to resist as Miriam’s hands undid the sash of her gown, parted it and lifted it from her shoulders, slid it down over her arms and tossed it away. Mavis stood perfectly still under Dell’s gaze. His eyes were nearly closed, but she knew he was studying her uplifted breasts, tiny, pointed nipples. His gaze drifted down to her narrow waist, to the flat tummy to the profuse growth like a meadow on her pussy mound.

Mavis quivered as Miriam’s cool hand moved down between her shoulder blades, over the small of her back to play with the solid butt buns. The hand with tickling fingers worked up and down over her ass. Mavis knew her fanny had no sag and she sighed as Miriam continued to rub her butt. Muscles fluttered in her tummy and her rectum as Miriam worked her fingers into the clenched crack and nudged her burning puckered anus.

“Are you ready to fuck, Mavis?” Miriam breathed hotly in Mavis’ left ear. Mavis didn’t respond as she continued to stare at Dell’s prodigious prod. Her cunny and vulva still felt sandpaper dry. She had doubts she could take Dell’s prick easily — it was so huge! She just knew, being dry in her channel, Dell was going to hurt her.

The moment of reckoning, time of coital truth was nearly at hand, Mavis knew. Clear sticky syrup was oozing from the slot in the end of Dell’s prick. He was ready to fuck! His nostrils were flaring, then narrowing and she knew he could smell the warm aroma of her pussy, dry or not!

“Ready for a good clicking, honey?” Miriam whispered again, flicking her tongue into Mavis’ ear. “He has a magnificent peter, doesn’t he, honey? Dell will give you all the cock you can handle!” Mavis felt the tip of Miriam’s finger inserted slightly in her hot asshole. She knew that Dell’s prick, once he got it all the way into her and it was well-lubricated — would make her snatch steam.

“Ready to get on the couch, honey and let Dell fuck you?” Miriam pursued. And her finger wormed deeper into her rectum — and Mavis felt a release of juices in her pussy. The inner petals of her vulva were itching and burning deliciously. She could hardly stand the erotic flushes that were being ignited all through her pelvic region.

“Let’s get on the couch, honey, and let Dell give you a good pussy-plundering!” Miriam urged her forward.

It was time. Mavis eased onto the couch on her knees and crawled toward the center of the couch with Miriam’s finger still sunk deep in her rectal cavity. She hesitated, whined softly as Miriam worked her finger around the burning cavern, then extracted it. Without further urging, Mavis swiveled her body about and turned onto her back. Miriam touched the back of her left knee. Obediently, Mavis drew her feet toward her fanny, pulled her knees up and spread her thighs wide, presenting her hairy target for Dell’s meat spear.

Mavis waited for him, eyes half-closed, lids heavy, staring at the ceiling. She sensed Miriam moving around, above her head. Then Miriam’s hands touched her face, moved down to cup her hot tits. She heard Dell rustling forward, felt his timid weight on the side of the couch.

In just a minute, he would be… whatever else, Mavis thought, I won’t reach down there, take hold of his cock and guide it into me!

Mavis stretched her arms straight out from her body and gripped the edge of the couch with her fingers. Oh, God! she wished Miriam would stop playing with her breasts, fanning her passion! She wouldn’t help Dell slide his prick into her! She gripped harder. She sensed him easing between her drawn-up thighs. She wouldn’t look at him. The muscles in her buttocks tensed as his hairy legs gently brushed her sleek inner thighs. Would he be gentle when he stabbed his cock into her vagina? Or would he be like a maddened bull and slam the hard, bludgeoning meat into her dainty body tissues?

Mavis sensed Dell getting closer and closed her eyes. She thought she could feel the intense heat of his genital organ on her own feverish pussy. In seconds, she thought, body tensing, he will be putting it in me and fucking me! I won’t fuck him back! she vowed, biting her lower lip roughly. I just won’t cooperate and give him the satisfaction of matching his fuck-strokes with my own!

She could hear his rapid breathing somewhere a few inches above her face. She trembled as one of his hands rested on her bare shoulder, fingers gripped her tender flesh. Her knees quivered as he adjusted his torso between her legs and she felt a hand fumbling down there. Mavis felt a thumb parting the labia, spreading them so the head of his cock could plow, unobstructed into her furrow.

“Gently,” Mavis murmured, almost pleading, as Dell wedged the blunt knob of his prick firmly into her sex groove. The heat of him was intense as his prick grew bolder, probing nearer and nearer the entry to her glory tunnel. She winced as he gripped her shoulder more firmly. His hand was still between their bodies and she knew he must be gripping his shaft near: the base, trying to aim it accurately at the fluttering entry to her body. “Please! Be gentle!” Mavis begged, wishing she could shrink her ass away from his cock that was like a red hot poker working around in her vulva.

“OOOOOOOOOHHHH,” Mavis sighed. The thick point of Dell’s prick was nudging at her hole. One thing, she thought, there won’t be that rolled-back fold of foreskin to create added friction if he does bang his cock into me hard.

His hand was gone from between their bellies and was on her other shoulder. She breathed deeply and relaxed slightly as Dell hesitated. Then his knees nudged forward toward the splayed loaves of her ass and the coarse hair on his thighs grated against her own tender legs.

She sighed, almost with relief, as Dell slowly slid his massive penis into her vagina. He was going to be gentle. He wasn’t going to bang it into her.

Mavis was ever so grateful that Dell was gentle. She even spread her knees wider to give him greater access, more freedom as he burrowed and drilled his slick-skinned prick deeper and deeper into her sex tube. She was so relieved that he wasn’t going to attack her like a butcher — that her sphincter muscles contracted and expanded around his shaft.

But I won’t fuck back, she told herself as he delved his cock deeper into her now-lubricated snatch. “Uuununhhhhhhghggghhh,” she moaned as the head of his bone nudged her cervix and slid on past toward her womb. He does have a mammoth instrument, she gulped silently. He will really fuck me deep! Every muscle in her body twinged, every nerve tingled as he drew far out and slowly slid his cock back into her until his big balls slap-slapped against her uptilted fanny. Their combined juices were seeping out of her burning swat.

He gave her four or five long, gentle pumps, stroking his cock into her. Mavis could smell the musky aroma of cock socked into hot cunt strong in her nostrils. She wiggled under him, spread her knees wider as he began to settle into a steady coital rhythm, pumping the prick to her, socking the hard head against the bottom of her canny.

“Aaaaaaahhhhh,” she sighed as his pace quickened. There were soft wet sounds down between their torsos as he rocked the cock to her. Mavis was aware that her feet had lifted from the couch and were waving around high above Dell’s humping rump. She knew that this lifted her flattened crotch to him, let him plunge his prick another inch into her sex cavern. And he was fucking her faster and she was…

“CUUUUMMMMIIIIIINNNNNG!” Mavis shrilled, her ass pumping wildly. He kept plunging it in and out of her as she orgasmed like a primitive savage. “Giiiiiivvvveeeeee it to me!” she panted, growled, screamed, begged. “Fuck it to me!”

She kept climaxing, cunt muscles spasming and wrenching with glorious pleasure. Mavis sensed that Connie had moved toward her bottom and had her feet, pushing them far back toward her head as Dell continued to plunder her cunt with his thudding cock.

She almost fainted with erotic delight as he slammed in deep and began shooting her snatch full of his thick, boiling jizz. And she was fucking back, her pussy glorying in the massive prick that was crammed deep into her body and was gushing love juice into her.

Mavis was pleasurably exhausted. Her mind seemed to swirl in euphoria; she felt dreamy and relaxed. “Oooooo, ohhhhh,” she murmured, not wanting Dell to take his cock out of her cunt where he had let it soak in her sex cauldron for several minutes — even after she had siphoned out all his jizz.

Mavis turned her head and opened her eyes slightly. Miriam and Connie had the naked Dell flat on his back in the living room floor and Connie was squatting down on him as Miriam held his sex post perpendicular to his heaving body so Connie could capture it with her thick-lipped pussy.

Mavis closed her eyes. She would sleep and let Miriam and Connie have their way with the young virile Dell. They could take turns fucking him…

But she would sleep…

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hank and Miriam Carr were in the Moran living room when Phil drove in the driveway and Mavis had no opportunity to talk to her husband, let alone take the time to choose her words and determine just how much she could tell him — about the things that had happened to her.

“We got a poker game tonight at Willie’s,” Hank said, sipping the drink Mavis had mixed. “You’ll make it, won’t you? We won’t play too late.”

“I reckon,” Phil grinned, patting Mavis on the bottom. He flattened his dark brown hair with the palm of his right hand. “When does the game start?”

“In about an hour,” Hank said. “Gives you time to eat and come over.”

But even after Miriam and Hank had gone, with Phil nibbling on cold beef sandwiches, washing it down with bourbon and soda, Mavis couldn’t think of a way to open the conversation that was weighing on her mind.

Absently, it seemed, Phil finally said, “What’s your feeling about what you mentioned to me on the phone?”

“What? I don’t know,” Mavis muttered, nerves jangling. “I don’t think so…”

“Why?” Phil grinned. “Don’t tell me you can’t bear the thought of a little strange puntang? Just talking, though, I think Connie and Miriam might have a pretty hot tail between those fancy legs. And they’re kinda obvious, pushing it at a guy sometimes. And Hank and Willie — I know they’re aware of it — don’t seem to be perturbed by the idea their wives might put out between strange sheets.”

Arching an eyebrow, Mavis challenged, “If you think you want to dip your wick in their lamps — go ahead!”

Phil laughed easily, “I was thinking of a different analogy — darting my stinger into their blossoms!”

“Then dip your stinger in their blossoms,” Mavis joined her husband’s soft laughter. She loved his infectious grin and sparkling brown eyes. Truly, she didn’t care if he fucked Connie and Miriam! Bitterness gnawed at her elation for a second. How could she resent her husband’s having an affair with other women — after what she had done? And she had enjoyed it — once the penile penetration had been accomplished and hard, experienced cock was inserted deep into her hungry vagina.

Quietly, Mavis said, replenishing her husband’s drink, “If they give you an opportunity to fuck them — don’t turn it down.” She hoped bitterness and deceit weren’t apparent in her voice.

Phil laughed and clutched a firm butt cheek in one hand as he took the drink from her hand that trembled slightly. “I doubt that they can give a guy the quality of nookey you can.”

“Thanks for the dubious compliment,” Mavis smiled gratefully.

“You’re a good piece of ass,” Phil nodded, reaching under the hem of her miniskirt and stroking her inner thighs, caressing the pulpy fruit of her woman — hood and tracing the crack of her ass with his closed fingers.

“Want a sample now?” Mavis teased, grinding her pelvis coitally against his hand.

“Let’s go play a few hands of poker — and I’ll fill your tight little sex maw later with lots and lots of eager cock!”

Mavis smiled good-naturedly, “You’d rather go play ‘poke her’ with cards than stay home and poke me with prick! I don’t understand how you can prefer chips around a table with men when you have a red-hot chippie at home just dying to flop into bed naked and fuck you to sleep?”

She was surprised she didn’t cringe as she labeled herself a chippie for her husband. After all, that’s what she was! First with Willie, then the boxer, then with Dell Emerson!

Who would be next, she fretted as she accompanied her husband out of the house and across the back yard toward the Quentin residence.

“Do you want to swap — really — Phil?” she frowned, taking his arm with both hands and crushing her right breast against his hard biceps.

“It’s a thought,” Phil replied, slowly, thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it a lot since we talked on the phone. I don’t think I’d have any trouble banging Connie and Miriam — mental hang-ups, that is. But I have jealous palpitations when I consider you naked in someone else’s arms and him pistoning his prick into your snug pussy.”

Mavis cringed. If you only knew, she wailed mentally, that in the past couple of days Willie had had me, a dog flicked me: Dell laid me. Oh, I just couldn’t bear to have you find that out!

Softly she said, “If you want to shag Connie and Miriam — I won’t think any the less of you, darling. I’ve heard that a man sometimes needs some strange poontang.”

“But, if I did,” Phil said thoughtfully, pausing in the Quentin backyard to light a cigarette, “Willie and Hank will want to bang your ass!”

Mavis was startled by the stern, almost vicious tone of her husband’s voice. I’m glad you don’t know, she thought, looking away, eyes peering at the abundance of stars in the clear sky. And you’ll never arrow, no matter what I have to do! She knew this admission to herself had put her life in bondage as long as she and Phil remained in Salt Lake City where Connie and Miriam and Willie and Henry — and who knew how many others — could get to her! She was a captive just as sure as if she were locked in a jail cell!

Connie opened the door and stood peering at them, without a word, for several seconds. She had changed into a one-piece sunsuit and looked very leggy and appetizing. The tight bodice accented her full breasts.

“Come in, characters,” Connie smiled slowly, and Mavis was aware that Connie’s eyes were on Phil. As they passed by the den, Connie took Phil’s arm, stopped them. “Phil and Mavis are here,” Connie called. A table was in the center of the room. Poker chips had been cut into stacks in front of each chair.

Mavis saw Willie and Hank immediately, leaning against the fireplace. Then she saw Ben Glover, Mickey Lewis — and Dell Emerson — lounging in easy chairs positioned about the room. “Come and join the gals, Mavis; let Phil have a drink before they start their pasteboard carnage.”

Mavis nodded to others sitting at the dining room table. There was Miriam and Terry and young Becky. If it worked out that way, everyone could be mated with the exception of Ben Glover. God! she thought, he has lecherous eyes!

Mavis nodded to the other girls as Connie brought a large pitcher from the refrigerator. “Screwdrivers,” Connie smiled, filling glasses on a tray in the center of the table.

Mavis glanced about. Terry’s eyes seemed to glitter and Mavis speculated that the little doll had had quite a bit to drink before she and Mickey arrived. And Becky, the trim strawberry blonde, seemed wound up tight. Her eyes seemed furtive and fearful. Mavis wondered if Connie and Miriam had something planned for her and whether Becky was aware of it.

Vaguely, Mavis could hear the deep murmur of the men’s voices and the clatter of chips as they were tossed into the pot. There were six of them playing. Willie had always contended five made a good game. If they had known that there would be six, she and Phil could have stayed at home. She shrugged away her discontent and tried to concentrate on the girls’ harmless conversation about clothes and the drudgery of housekeeping and meals and the lack of variety and excitement in married life.

Maybe Becky and Terry missed the subtle inference but it was clear to Mavis that Connie and Miriam were alluding to husband-swapping. She frowned. It seemed, lately, that Miriam and Connie were obsessed with the topic of hopping into bed with some other woman’s husband.

She made up her mind that she wasn’t going to drink much, was going to stay sober so she would be keenly aware of whatever happened — to others as well as to herself. Little Becky was beginning to feel the effects of the vodka. And Terry was drinking faster and the alcohol was beginning to belt her hard; it was evident in her slightly slurred speech and brassy tone.

Mavis eased away from the table and strolled about the room, carrying her drink, but not touching it. No one paid attention to her and she drifted toward the den to lounge in the archway. Ben Glover’s eyes picked her immediately and fastened on her legs below the miniskirt. Mavis stifled a shudder and wished she had worn slacks! His eyes seemed to strip her naked!

“Has your company beefed up its security — especially on Saturday nights, Willie?” Glover asked tossing his hand into the discards.

Mavis watched Willie nod negatively. “The brass is satisfied that the armored van guards are sufficient. The van rolls up at ten-fifteen every Saturday night with three armed guards. I help one of them load the money and it’s their responsibility.”

Her eyes swung to Phil who blew her a silent kiss and winked as he said, “Ben and I both know that your insurance premium and bond rates would be sharply reduced if you had guards on hand through the evening as receipts arrive from the other stores.”

“So?” Willie shrugged, “tell it to the brass.”

The men chuckled, paused in their play to sip their drinks and light cigarettes.

“It would be a cinch,” Henry Carr said, “to knock you over, Willie. Even amateurs could hold you up and probably get away clean. For one thing, the police department — we have discussed it and fretted about it — would have damned little to go on. Hell, there isn’t even a record of serial numbers of bills. All that cash and checks are dumped in bags by other stores after a fast tabulation and brought to you.”

“You’re right,” Willie nodded. “And it makes me a little nervous. I guess store officials think the practice is unknown and they rely on this against the probability of robbery.”

“Bullshit!” Glover shuffled the cards, offered the deck for cut, buried a card and dealt. “That kind of secret can’t be kept!”

“Tell it to the brass!” Willie said, opening with a blue chip.

The casual discussion of armed robbery had a chilling effect on Mavis and she gulped her drink nervously.

“Another round, Connie!” Willie called, interrupting the conversation. In an instant Miriam slipped past Mavis and into the room. “I’ll accommodate you,” she said. “Connie went upstairs to wee-wee.”

Mavis watched Miriam, wearing snug shorts and a loose middle blouse, strut to the bar with the men’s glasses and mix drinks. The men paused in their play until Miriam returned to hand them fresh high-balls. She didn’t bother circling the table to serve, but leaned out over the table — and the blouse sagged and Miriam wasn’t wearing a damned thing under it. Her opulent breasts were clearly visible to any man who wanted to look. “Get your hand off my bottom — whoever you are!” she challenged. And Mavis — she couldn’t tell who — knew that either Ben Glover or Mickey Lewis was sneaking a feel of Miriam’s legs and ass!

But Miriam didn’t bolt away, seemed to enjoy the men’s leering at her breasts under the gaping blouse. Then the hand must have been withdrawn from her fanny and she backed away and set the tray on a table next to an easy chair.

Mavis watched Miriam circle the table slowly as the men resumed their game. She didn’t care that Miriam stopped behind Phil, leaned forward until a full breast rested on his shoulder. Mavis winked quickly when Phil glanced at her, questioningly. Let Miriam throw her sex at Phil, she mused. I don’t care. She actually anticipated seeing her husband reach up and tweak Miriam’s nipple. But he just folded his cards on the hand of stud and sat unmoving.

She wished she could have heard what Miriam whispered to Phil; he scowled slightly. Mavis finished her drink as Miriam wiggled against Phil, actually forced his arm around her narrow waist. Then she edged herself onto his lap, ground her fanny — around and around — against Phil’s groin.

How obvious and blatant and wanton can a woman act? Mavis wondered, frowning slightly. Miriam was doing her best to give Phil a dry fuck! Mavis had the eerie sensation things were going to happen before the night was much older.

Maybe Phil would get a piece of ass — strange stuff. Mavis pouted. Maybe he has screwed other women since they had been married, but tonight would be the first that she would know about. Herself? Mavis’ fingers of her left hand toyed absently with the end of a long blonde tress that trailed over her left shoulder. Would she be subjected to some man’s animal, sexual lust? She shivered as if the room had grown suddenly cold. The muscles in her tummy, deep in her loins, seemed to coil with hungry expectation — all against Mavis’ troubled will.

My God! Mavis fretted mentally, her eyes drifting to her husband who was still getting the coital rubdown from Miriam’s teasing, goading swiveling butt in his lap. The others around the table had paused in their play to leer at Miriam trying to arouse Phil to sexual frenzy — and a possible orgy right there in the Quentin den.

My husband will flick Miriam tonight! the thought seemed to explode in her mind. And I wanted his cock in me so much! Then an objective thought was sharp and scintillating in her mind. She would like to see Phil’s face when he saw Miriam’s hairless pussy and shoved his prick into that meaty maw. She wondered if her husband had ever shoved his big click into a woman’s chamber that had no carpet of pubic growth adorning it.

Everyone was watching Miriam grind her pussy against Phil’s genitals — except Ben Glover. His eyes seemed afire, burning in his haggard, lustful face. Mavis’ body jerked and there was a sharp stabbing sensation deep in her womb. Her mind was crying NO! NO! NO! But her vaginal appetite for a man’s prong-prawn was increasing. Oh, God, no, she quailed. She didn’t want to surrender her body to any more men! All the fucking she wanted was from her husband! She didn’t want any further humiliating sexual abuse of her body. But she had a strong premonition that she, again, would yield her body to the panting greed of a man. She would spread her legs and let him in, not even resist his pumping his carnal prick into her!

She felt tears about to form and turned away, left the room. She paused briefly in the dining room, glad it was empty. She composed herself quickly, brushed away the start of tears. Slowly, Mavis followed sounds in the living room. She paused between the two rooms and watched Connie and Becky easing Terry onto the davenport.

“Passed out, poor dear,” Connie grinned, shaking her head, tossing her black hair.

Don’t leave her exposed like that, Mavis thought. Put her legs up on the davenport, together. And pull down her escort. But Mavis continued to stare at the inert girl, at the bare, sleek thighs and the rounded crotch sheathed in blue nylon.

Mavis turned away. She had a hunch that Terry, too, would have her pussy plundered by some man’s horny instrument. A hot flush washed through Mavis’ body. She would like to watch her fucked!

In the dining room, Connie and Becky were sitting at the table. Mavis set down her glass and deliberately filled it with screwdriver from the pitcher. She didn’t bother to flinch or recoil as she felt Connie snake a hand up under her dress to feel her legs and rub her butt. Let her play, Mavis pouted, standing perfectly still — kind of enjoying the sexy finger play inside her panties, in her crack.

She looked up as Miriam rejoined them.

“That Phil is a difficult man to make hard!” Miriam said.

“I’ve noticed that at times,” Mavis murmured, feeling a little bitter, remembering that Phil hadn’t touched her in more than a week. She tried to be flippant, “If you can get his horse up, go ahead and saddle it and ride it in your barn.”

But she really didn’t mean it. She didn’t want Phil fucking other women — and she didn’t want to be mauled and screwed by other men. She didn’t want to swap!

But it seemed they were all hurdling toward mixing mates! Who was going to get her? Some guy was going to be without a cunt — unless two of them doubled up on one woman.

Oh, God! Not me! she fretted, almost in a panic. Especially not that lecherous Ben Glover!

Maybe she would get laid by Connie! That black-haired beauty now had her fingers playing with her anus and dabbling into her cunny pouch, caressing and gently pinching the puffy labia. Mavis suppressed the heady sensation to giggle. Getting laid and screwed — eaten out — by another woman!

Her thoughts were interrupted when Dell strolled in, serious and pale. “Let’s go, Becky. It’s late.”

“And?” Becky frowned, eyes loving, yet serious and concerned.

“And,” Dell sighed, “I lost thirty-five dollars.”

Becky didn’t have to say it, Mavis thought, reading the small girl’s expression. OUCH! That hurt. Those kids needed the money. It never crossed Mavis’ mind to remember that Dell had fucked her and had been forced to let Connie and Miriam used his fine, young cock.

Then the handsome young couple was gone, declining a nightcap. That left five men and four women — if the passed-out Terry counted!

It was only eleven-thirty. And the five men continued their poker play after Dell had withdrawn. She heard her husband gloat, a little loudly, a little drunkenly, “My pot! Damn! This is a goodern! Must be forty bucks in it!”

Mavis smiled as Connie stiffened slightly. She was pleased her husband was triumphant and happy. “Mavis!” Phil called and she was on her feet instantly, hurrying to please him. “Honey, dash over home and get me a couple of cigars? I would go — but I feel a hot streak upon me!”

Wordlessly, she nodded under his excited gaze. Then she wilted slightly as Henry Carr pushed back his chair. “I need a breath of fresh air. I’ll walk over with you, Mavis. We’ve had some prowler reports in the neighborhood — I wouldn’t want you to encounter some mean character.”

Mavis breathed deeply, raggedly. You are the mean character, she thought with a twinge of mental misery. But what can I do?

CHAPTER EIGHT

The moon had hidden its face behind opaque clouds beyond the Wasatch Mountains to the east. But Mavis needed no light in the inky black night to know here Hank Carr was! She could hear his deep — somewhat fast — breathing right behind her. She could almost feel it on her neck. His musky male aroma drifted on the still night air.

He was the one who was going to get her!

Mavis’ knees weakened and trembled — but her cunny muscles clutched deliciously tormenting and she sensed a hot flush of sex juices released in her trembling sex channel. Her mind cried NO! But her physical being was crying out to be fucked!

His footsteps were stealthy and right on her heels. No one had to tell her he had a hard-on. And that hard cock was destined to be socked into her cunt!

Mavis couldn’t resist a feeling of resignation. He would fuck her — and she would let him!

He was off to her side now and a hand was gently touching the small of her back — the tip of a finger was nudged against the dimple-start of her crack. He wasn’t even waiting until they got in the house to start putting the make on her! She just hoped he didn’t think it was necessary to remind her that he knew she had been a whore in order to lay her! She would let him — she knew she would — she was resigned to taking him on, letting him hose his jizz into her twat!

Mavis cursed herself! Her sex channel was roiling, a boiling cauldron! Just from having Hank Carr’s knowledgeable hand on her body. Her coital muscles were knotted and bunched. Her rectal passage was itching and burning — and she wished that Hank would get his hand inside her panties and rub her asshole to relieve the exotic torment.

SLUT! her mind shouted at her.

And she answered silently… I have no choice. I can’t have any of these people know and talk about my past!

Henry Carr’s hand dropped away from her quivering body as they entered the house. Mavis didn’t bother turning on another light as the lamp in the distant living room cut the gloom in the kitchen. Mavis knew exactly where Phil kept his cigars… in one of the vegetable drawers in the refrigerator.

This is where he’ll take me, Mavis thought, hesitating on opening the refrigerator. Somehow, she knew.

“I didn’t see a sign of a prowler,” Hank said in the dim kitchen.

“I didn’t either, I didn’t know we had prowlers in the neighborhood.” Mavis breathed shakily — wishing he would make his move… piss or get off the pot!

There was a rustling behind her, but Mavis wouldn’t turn to determine what it was. She folded her arms under her full breasts, just waiting. She sensed it was only a matter of time before Hank made his move. She shivered, hating the suspense of when he would take her. If it were going to happen, she wished he would do it and have it over with — spare her the agony of uncertainty. It would also extinguish the raging fire that was roaring in her cunt.

There seemed to be something primitive in the air. It was all animal; the pursuer and the pursued; the hunter and the hunted. She was the prey. Mavis was glad it was very dim in the epic and span kitchen. She didn’t want to see it happen to her. Hank wouldn’t seem quite so carnal and forbidding here in the gloom. She wouldn’t have to look at him as he gave it to her. All she would have to cope with were the feeling and smell and hearing his lustful breathing. This way, in the dark, it wouldn’t be so bad even if he made her take his cock and guide it into her.

If she couldn’t see him — his face — as he fucked her, maybe it would just be like an unpleasant dream. A short dream; depending on how long it took him to pump his prick into her until he came.

“You’re a sexy, curvy bundle, Mavis,” he whispered hoarsely and Mavis jumped, startled, not realizing how near he was. His breath even wafted fine wisps of her blonde hair. She hadn’t expected him to speak. She had thought he would just start stripping her — and take her!

“What are you going to do, Hank?” Mavis mumbled.

His soft laughter sent cold chills up and down her spine.

“Why, you came after some cigars, sweet thing. That’s what you’re going to get — a cigar!”

“Please?” she sighed, knees weak and trembling.

“You don’t have to ask for it, Mavis,” Henry Carr said. And he placed his hands on her upper arms.

Soon, soon, soon, she fretted, he would be getting to her. She wondered if he were hung as well as Willie. Willie had a huge cock and he knew how to use it! Well, Hank could fuck her, but she wouldn’t cooperate. She wouldn’t even permit herself to get steamed up and orgasm! She wished her channel would stay dry and the walls of her vagina would rub him raw!

She let him turn her torso and pull her into the circle of his arms. God! He was stark naked. That had been the rustling she had heard behind her; Hank taking off his clothes! He had been damned cock-sure he was going to use his cock in her!

She didn’t resist as he crushed her to his bare, hairy chest. He held her so firmly, her breasts were mushroomed almost out of the bra against him. And his hands were rubbing up and down her back, his fingers pinching her firm buttocks at the terminus of their downward stroke. And his touch was stoking her sex furnace and she was about to erupt.

“Ooooooohhhhh!” she whimpered as his mouth and spearing tongue found hers. His kiss was masterful and demanding. She let her lips part, chin lift slightly so he could jut his tongue into her mouth. His tongue was wild. Mavis felt she had never been French-kissed like this before in her life. And he was dry-fucking like crazy, grinding his groin against her tummy. And he was hot and bone-hard! She didn’t have to see it or feel it with her hands; she knew Hank Carr had an immense pussy plunger!

His hands, now cupping her ass and lifting her up on tiptoes, were pushing her toward the precipice of climax and she was about to beg him to rip off her clothes and fuck her! She needed it! Wanted it as badly as any bitch dog in heat!

But she didn’t have to beg. His hands were busy up under her skirt and her panties were slithering down over her buttocks and he was baring his target for attack. In seconds, the fragile, protective sheath of silk would be gone and there would be nothing between her puffed pussy and his long, hard prick! He was going to fuck her on her own kitchen floor!

Hank’s hands left the bare, feverish flesh under her skirt and drifted to her shoulders. For a second panic and disappointment seized her. She thought he was going to push her to her knees and force her to give him a blow-job, suck him off and she would be cheated out of having a big cock pummeling her cunt! Whatever had been her earlier resolve had dissipated. Right now, she wanted a fuck!

But she would do just as Hank wanted, praying silently that she received sexual relief while he was spending his cock in her and deriving his own pleasure. She couldn’t see his face in the dark as he left off kissing her and pushed her away. Mavis let him lead her to the serving bar that separated the kitchen dinette from the dining room.

He turned her about and pushed her over the bar. “What?” she puzzled in a slightly whining voice as he shoved her aching tits down on the Formica counter. She braced her arms across the surface, clenched the far edge with her hands. Mavis rested her face on her left forearm, trying to peer behind her, but couldn’t see the naked Henry Carr. But he was back there. And she knew he was going to feed his cock into her cunt from behind.

Somehow, dog-fashion had always seemed degrading to her. But she wouldn’t resist or complain. She was going to get his hard meat in her pussy. She had resolved that she wouldn’t cooperate, wouldn’t permit herself to climax, but, now, she was starving for long plunges of hard, pulsating cock in her quivering cunny.

She trembled with anticipation as he hiked her skirt up over her ass, exposing her fanny. Obediently, she spread her feet and knees apart as Hank’s hands pressed against her inner thighs. She hoisted her rear as much as she could to give his prick full and easy access to the passion-slicked pouch formed by the swollen labia of her vulva.

Hurry, hurry! Fuck me! her mind implored. But she said, “Get it over with, Hank.”

She held steady as he pushed his thumbs into the already-parted crease of her ass and lodged them against her anal pucker. She was fearful he was going to ram them inside her rectum — then wished he would.

Hank was panting in soft whistles, his breath keening through his nostrils and Mavis could smell the muskiness of his genitals. She stiffened, braced her legs as she felt the thick point of his bull prick explore her crack. It was hot and gooey with his secretion of lubrication. For a second she thought he was going to cornhole her, but he wanted it in her snatch and he dabbed the head of his cock into her sex pouch and swabbed it around.

“Aaaaaaaaceeeeeeiiii,” Mavis whimpered with pleasure — she was unable to restrain as Hank raked the clit that had hardened and extended from its little silo. She hoped he hadn’t been circumcised; she wanted him to have a full foreskin that was rolled back behind the glans and would brush roughly against the crinkled walls of her feverish vagina. “Fuuuuuuccckkk me!” she heard herself begging.

He bounced the blunt tip against the fleshy curtain of her vaginal opening — then plunged about five inches of thick cock into her. “Aaaaaaaahhhhggghh!” she breathed raggedly, bracing against his forward pressure. His cock continued to bore into her twat and Mavis gulped appreciatively. Vaguely, she knew she would hate her slutty avarice later. But right now she wanted all of his cock, deep in her snatch and fucking like crazy.

His cock was snug in her cunt, but there was no grinding friction. His coital syrup had coated his shaft and her vagina was honey-glazed with a sort of sensual craze. The big head, with its roll of foreskin nudged her cervix and glided on past, well on its way toward her womb.

He was going to fuck her deep and thoroughly. As if in a daze, Mavis wished Hank had a big knob, like his dog’s, that would swell and lodge inside her cove.

“Is it all in?” Mavis queried, panting with desire for him to start his rocking, hunching coital plundering. She could feel the hairy rasp of the fronts of his thighs against the backs of hers. A thunder was starting inside her and she knew she was going to be shaken with a premature orgasm and wished he would give her four or five good, fast cock-pumps before she went off.

“Not quite,” Hank grunted. “You have a good, tight pussy.”

Mavis almost cried out as Hank rammed the last couple of inches of his post into her hole. “I’m going to make your cunt smoke!” he promised, almost brutally jamming the head against the deepest reaches of her swat.

“Give-me-a-couple-of-thrusts!” Mavis begged, shaking her ass back at him and rotating it. “I’m going to have a cum!”

He swizzled it around in her clutching cunt and gave her a series of rabbit-like pumps — just a couple of inches in and out — and Mavis exploded deep in her vaginal tube. Her sphincters gripped the long, thick shaft and she was grateful that Hank buried his prick deep in her snatch and let her cum and cum and cum, her pleasure cascading all through her pelvic region.

Then his hands clenched on her narrow flanks, thumbs dug into the softness of the area between her heaving rib cage and her squirming ass. When he began drawing out of her, Mavis pleaded, “Don’t pull your cock out! I need more fucking! Fuck me good; shoot your load deep in my pussy!”

She had hardly gasped out her pleading and Hank fucked his bone deep into her quivering maw. His pelvic bone banged against her ass and his balls slapped up under her, against her plump pussy mound.

“Ooooo-hhhhh-iiiii-aaaaaaaa-iiiii-aaaa!” Mavis breathed with erotic gratitude as Hank began fucking her in long strokes. She breathed deeply and almost swooned as she smelled the sweet perfume of male and female blended together. “How you can fuck,” she marveled as Hank poured the prick to her in faster strokes that brought his cock out of her snatch until just the head remained inside her swat. Then, “Slock!” plunged it back into her. The big balls bounced against her stretched pussy folds.

Slock-slurp; slock-slock.

“It’s heaven to fuck!” Mavis squalled with delight, rotating her ass faster and faster and hunching her tensed buttocks back at him as he slammed his meat tusk to the limit in her greedy cunt.

“You’re a good, red-hot piece!” Hank panted, huffing and puffing as he hunched.

“This is a good position,” Mavis murmured. “My ass is just the right height for you to pump your prick into me!”

She felt he really was making her snatch smoke as he fucked her with long, fast pumps. “I’m gonna cum again!” she wailed, voice shrill. And she felt her entire vaginal cavity was being shattered by the violence of her orgasm. “Hold it in deep and let meeee cum!” she begged, trying to capture his thick, rapacious cock with her coital muscles. But Hank fucked her faster, really banging his prick into her cunt.

He was cumming, too. “Aaaaaagggghhhhh!” Mavis gurgled with appreciation as his sex hydrant began flooding her innards. It was like a liquid fire that was consuming her pussy and her ecstasy knew no bounds. She thought — hoped — he would never stop hosing his jizz into her. It was sooooo heavenly, having his cock fairly blowing her snatch full of thick, creamy cum.

She hardly knew when Hank slowly extracted his spent member. The erotic pleasure continued with her and she remained bent over the bar in the ready position, knowing Hank or anyone else who might enter the house could see her bare ass and gaping, gored puss. Even an inexperienced kid could tell she had been thoroughly fucked.

“Where does Phil keep his cigars?” she heard Hank ask and she knew he had backed his prick out of her.

“In the refrigerator, in one of the vegetable drawers,” she finally managed to mumble, still reveling in the glory of his peckering.

“There’s only three,” she heard Hank say.

She heard his barefooted approach. “One for you and two for Phil,” she heard him chortle. He pushed her up on tiptoe as he suddenly inserted a ten-inch-long panatella all the way into her throbbing pussy still in its cellophane wrapper.

For a moment, Mavis was dismayed. Then she started giggling. A cigar in her snatch. She thought her pussy-fire was still hot enough to burn it to a cinder.

“We better get back,” Hank said realistically.

“Yes,” Mavis agreed, straightening. She kicked her panties into the utility room and followed him out into the night. If she got fucked again that night, whoever pumped the prick to her would have to extricate the cigar first!

CHAPTER NINE

As Mavis followed Hank across the dark back yards, she was assailed by a variety of emotions. She seemed to be tagging after her illicit lover like a docile servant girl; she couldn’t understand how she could submit to other men without even a show of resistance, then be flooded with remorse after they had had their way with her body; and as they approached the Quentin home, a sense of reluctance almost caused her to turn and bolt for her own house — she didn’t want to see her husband wrapped in another woman’s arms in the throes of passion.

But she padded on after Henry Carr and followed him into the house and the Quentin den where the men had played poker. She wondered if Willie could read in her face that Hank had humped her in her own kitchen, bent over the serving bar. He gave no sign as he wordlessly mixed three drinks and handed her and Hank a glass.

Mavis glanced about the room and squirmed with dismay when she found the others weren’t there. Had Miriam succeeded in luring Phil away? Already, their naked bodies might be entwined, Phil struggling between her sleek thighs, shoving his horn into her body, giving Miriam the pleasure that should be hers?

She didn’t give a damn if Mickey Lewis were fucking Connie — but the thought of her husband pumping his wonderful prick into Miriam’s hairless pussy almost made her cry.

Mavis attempted to concentrate on Willie and Hank, take her mind from disturbing thoughts. How could they be so unconcerned, sitting here and sopping up whiskey while their wives were being fucked elsewhere in the house? Maybe they were. But, to Mavis, it appeared all they were interested in was getting drunk. They seemed oblivious to her presence — at least she didn’t have to worry about being taken again by Willie or having them taking turns ravaging her body.

“I’ll get to that Terry.” Willie mumbled, replenishing his and Hank’s drinks from a bottle of bourbon. “And I’ll shag that Becky Samon, too,” he vowed, nodding his head as if to add emphasis.

“I’ll bet she’s a virgin, Will,” Hank shook his head, disputing Willie, “and I’ll bet you don’t even get a whiff of her pure pussy.”

“Yer on and how much?” Willie challenged, grinning drunkenly with good nature.

“Name it!” Hank responded. “A case of scotch?”

“A bet!” Willie grinned, gulping straight whiskey and wiping the dribblings from his chin with the back of his free hand.

Mavis slipped away from them, suddenly wondering where Ben Glover, the grayish, haggard man with the lecherous eves, was. A chill shivered through her. He must still be about. He was the one she would have to avoid encountering: he wanted her! His eyes, earlier had, unmistakably, told her that!

Lights in the dining room had been doused but there was a table lamp on somewhere in the living room where they had put Terry Lewis when she passed out. Silently, Mavis made her way toward the large, luxuriously furnished living room. Maybe Mickey had taken his little wife and gone home and Phil had Connie and Miriam in bed with him somewhere. Oh God! she fretted miserably.

Suddenly, Mavis stopped cold, all of the hot liquor she had drunk turning to ice water in her veins. She cowered into heavy shadows along one wall and hunkered behind a large easy chair.

Not ten feet away was Ben Glover, hovering over the sleeping Terry. His teeth seemed long and wolfish in his leering mouth and Mavis thought saliva was drooling from his foul lips.

He was going to take and defile the dainty Terry! How could a man get any satisfaction fucking an unresponsive, passed-out woman?

What was he going to do next? Mavis wondered as Glover turned and peered about. The dim light struck him just right and Mavis could see the massive ridge in his clothes, extending upward nearly to his belt buckle. Ben Glover had a hard-on of sufficient girth and length to service a young cow! He would rip and tear and ruin the small Terry! Mavis felt, no way, could the young woman take what he had into her body without being horribly damaged.

Mavis frowned, alarmed at the warm quiverings in her vagina, unable to control the clutching cunny muscles around the cellophane-wrapped cigar Hank had inserted into her.

Although she was nearly overwhelmed by revulsion, she knew she was going to remain where she was and watch Ben Glover impale the helpless Terry on his giant lance. Then Mavis was appalled at the thought that burned in her brain… she wished Glover would disrobe so she could see his big sausage. She wanted to look at his hard cock, see his lusting flesh without the obstruction of his clothes.

She held her breath while Glover removed his shoes and socks, then stripped to the waist, taking off his shirt and undershirt. But she wouldn’t see his mammoth phallus for a while. He wasn’t going to disrobe completely for the time being.

Terry hadn’t moved since she had been placed on the couch. Her right foot, drawn up still rested on the seat. Her left was on the floor knee sprawled wide. Ben Glover had a clear view of her panty-sheathed crotch. Mavis watched the vile man bend over the girl and she could see him clearly as he sniffed at her relaxed pussy.

He was in no hurry to get on with his depraved venture. He seemed to be savoring time, gloating over the defenseless little beauty. There was an air of knowledgeable confidence in the way he went about defiling his prey.

Mavis watched Glover step back, study the curvy woman. She was nothing more than well-molded clay to be mauled by his long-fingered hands and poked and prodded by his great tool.

Then he leaned over Terry and wormed a hand inside her blouse, inside the full bra cup and Mavis could see him squeezing almost brutally. Terry groaned and twisted slightly, but didn’t emerge from her alcoholic stupor. She, indeed, was helpless to avoid the cruel, sexual assault that she was destined to receive. And Mavis, suddenly, nearly called out to Glover to FUCK HER!

Glover fumbled in his right front pants pocket and Mavis felt a rising torrent of terror as he withdrew a knife and opened it. The blade wasn’t long, but it glittered evilly in the pale light. He’s going to mutilate her! Mavis almost screamed. Maybe he win cut off her nipples!

She watched the tall, gaunt man test the edge of the blade with the flat of a thumb. She could hear him humming softly. Quickly, he cut off all the buttons on Terry’s blouse. Then he sliced along the shoulder seams, then the side seams and tossed away the two front halves of the thin garment. With a deft flick of the blade, he cut the shoulder straps of her brassiere. Deftly, he cut the bra, starting under each arm-pit and threw the cups aside. He paused a moment to tweak each nipple until they expanded into ripe, pointy spires.

Glover worked the blade under the waistband of Terry’s skirt, near the navel, and gently sawed it downward, severing the bottom hem. With his left hand, he folded the skirt flaps aside. The frail slip was cut slickly by the sharp knife and only Terry’s panties remained to cover her unconscious nudity. Glover cut down each side, from the waistband to the leg hems, and removed the triangle of silk to reveal Terry’s hair-adorned pussy. She was naked, lying there in the ruins of her clothes.

Now he will plunder her, Mavis thought, fuck out his pleasure in her with his oversize prick.

Mavis was aware of an overpowering need of a drink. Slowly, so that she didn’t get Glover’s attention, she crawled toward the den. As she stood up at the archway, she heard the front door open and close. Maybe Glover was going to abandon Terry — and Mavis was aware of keen disappointment. She had wanted to watch him sexually abuse the little cunt!

She glared at Hank and Willie — both had gotten their guts full of booze and were sleeping, heads and arms sprawled on the poker table. Willie was snoring like an animal. Hank had spilled his whiskey and his face was resting in the soggy puddle in the tightly stretched blanket on the table.

At the bar, Mavis removed the lid from the ice bucket and filled a fresh glass with ice cubes and bourbon. Quickly, she darted back to the living room and again squatted in the shadows behind the chair.

Just in timer Glover reentered the house, carrying a piece of wood resembling a large broomstick about four feet long. There were two leather loops attached to it near the ends. What on earth, Mavis puzzled.

But Mavis didn’t have to wait long for an explanation. Almost roughly, Glover seized Terry’s limp left wrist and dragged her onto the floor. He grabbed an ankle and pulled her to the center of the room. With a foot, he pushed her legs out straight, kicked her feet far apart. Then he dropped to his knees and lifted her left leg, pushed the wooden pole under it, lifted the right leg and worked it under, just behind the knees.

Glover knelt between Terry’s legs and grasped the pole in the middle with his left hand. He levered upward, drawing Terry’s legs parted thighs toward her face. With his right hand, he took Terry’s left wrist and worked her hand through a leather loop which wrapped across her thigh from the inside. Then he slipped the loop over the end of the pole. Quickly, he repeated the maneuver with her right wrist.

Terry was wadded up, arms lashed to her knees. The cheeks of her rear glistened dully in the pale light. With thighs splayed far apart, her pussy was fully exposed, a ready, unprotected target for a man’s sex spear.

Mavis shuddered silently as Glover stood and chuckled obscenely. His simple little sex-torture rack. Terry was mumbling, “No, no, no. Please? Nooooo.”

“Yeeeeeessssss, cunt!” Glover hissed, removing his pants and shorts.

His back was to Mavis and she couldn’t resist the tremblings of anticipation, wanting to look at his front nakedness. She yearned to see his bunch of tools.

Mavis stared at Glover’s back, felt a little ill. The pulpy halves of his rump seemed to sag with the flaccidness of middle age. Even the flesh of his back seemed to hang in wrinkles and his legs were spider-webbed with varicose veins.

But, then, Glover tensed. The veins remained in his legs, but the sagging flesh firmed and his lean ass was rounded and taut. He turned — and a hand went involuntarily to Mavis’ wide open mouth. He was, truly, immense. His blunt-headed penis sagged at a ninety-five-degree angle from the base at his hairy crotch. His scrotum, full of big balls, resembled a huge conifer cone.

Mavis had thought the blood veins in the tall, scrawny man’s calves were pronounced — but his pulsating prod was heavily ridged with purplish blood vessels. And the stubbed-off battering ram was syrupy to the point of being disgustingly snotty.

Oh, God! She would never want that obscene tool drilling and ramming into her pussy!

And he was going to bludgeon that log into Terry’s dainty, tight little hole! Oooooohhhh, Mavis sighed silently, staring at that huge, long hunk of hard flesh.

Terry was mumbling and groaning, her head twisting from side to side. Perhaps, Mavis thought, being bound up like that — knees up high and flung wide, wrists lashed to them by Glover’s sex bar, she was being roused because of the awkward position and discomfort.

Mavis sipped at her whiskey as she watched Glover run the big toe of his right foot up and down the flattened crack of Terry’s ass, digging it at the stretched butt hole. Then — Mavis felt a little like wretching — Glover used his toe to spread Terry’s outer pussy lips and ran it up and down the reddish, slicky inner petal folds. Don’t fuck her with your foot, Mavis frowned. Use your big dick.

But Glover was jacking off slowly with both hands as he knelt between Terry’s pinioned legs. He shuffled forward, still beating his meat, working his fingers around to grease his shaft with his own clear sex juice.

He continued masturbating with one hand as he grasped the bar in the center with his left hand. Mavis was aware of a fire kindling in her own vaginal channel, fascinated by Terry’s slicked gash and Glover’s massive spear.

Glover rocked Terry back and forth on her shoulders by pushing the bar toward her face and pulling it back toward him. She was just a fucking machine, harnessed up like that, Mavis thought.

Terry’s entire body quivered and convulsed as Glover bent the blunt head of his cock into her soupy vulva and swabbed it up and down, around and around. He shuffled forward on his bony knees and ass-hunched the big knob into her tiny vagina.

“Aaaaagggghhhhh!” Terry whimpered, just barely beyond the edge of complete drunkenness. Glover would sober her up, Mavis thought. He pushed his knees within a couple of inches of her upturned fanny. He pulled the bar toward him, rolling her ass toward him — and gorging her snatch with about four inches of hard male meat.

“Eeeeeeeiiiiiiii,” Terry whimpered softly as Glover’s prick stretched the inner walls of her vagina.

Wheeeee! Mavis clenched her thighs against her own snatch and wiggled the nearly forgotten cigar around in her swat.

Now, Glover had both hands on the bar and was slowly pushing Terry’s body away from him until only the big knob was in her, then pulling her toward him. Each time he worked another inch of his monstrous dong into her. When his balls rolled high in their sac, Mavis could see Terry’s stretched pussy ring and her quivering anus.

“Aaaaagggghhhh!” Terry complained, not yet realizing how helpless she was.

Glover now had both hands on the center of the bar that kept Terry’s hands secure, her thighs and knees fanned wide. His huge plunger was making a big, round fleshy doughnut of her cunt lips. It was, it seemed to Mavis, stretched all out of shape. But, what surprised Mavis, she was taking his cock — all of it. Mavis had a clear view. In a minute — another couple of Glover’s rocking her body back and forth — she would have consumed all eleven or twelve inches of his sex snorkel. She really had a snatch! Mavis marveled, vaguely aware that her own sex juices were boiling freely.

Mavis drained her glass and watched Glover push far forward on the bar, shoving it up near Terry’s chin that was twisting from side to side. Terry’s bottom was up on top and Glover began pumping the prick to her in long, fast, brutal thrusts.

“Aaaaahhhh!” Terry groaned, her voice drifting into a plaintive scream as Glover drilled his cock past her cervix and into the uterus.

Mavis thought she was going to faint as she watched Glover fucking the shit out of the tiny girl. She did collapse behind the chair as Glover pounded Terry into a violent drunken climax and yelled triumphantly as he found the trigger of his cannon and began spouting her upturned sex cavity full of jizz…

Mavis waited, watched as Glover hauled his long shaft out of Terry’s body, shook the sex juice off on her cramped tits and into her face, dressed and departed.

Then Mavis slipped from her hiding place, squatted and removed the cigar from her pussy, threw it away and ran out of the Quentin home to her own and to bed.

To hell with Phil. Let him fuck Miriam or Connie or both… she slept and didn’t awaken until long after Phil had left for Provo.

CHAPTER TEN

When Mavis awoke, she was surprised she felt no remorse about the night before. As she ran a tub full of pleasurable hot water, she was slightly excited, wondering who had found Terry bound up in such a lewd position, ready for fucking and unable to resist even if she had wanted.

Strangely, she wasn’t disturbed that she and Hank Carr had fucked down in the kitchen — yet, she was reluctant to go down to make coffee. She just knew that the room and the memory would haunt her at first. Her cunny muscles squirmed. Hank knew how to diddle!

She didn’t know whether it was the delightful bath or the memory of having her pussy plugged so thoroughly and exotically. She shook her blonde hair and examined her body in the clear, steaming water. There was no sign to indicate she had fornicated with relish! “Aaaaah,” she sighed. She wouldn’t go out — except to the bank to get that thousand dollars to give to Willie to cover someone else’s theft! “Damn bastard — whoever you are!” she swore.

Well, she would take care of that first thing, Mavis resolved. She quit the bath, dried hastily and dressed in a tight white sweater and white slacks. Phil had left the percolator plugged in and she drank a cup of coffee quickly. Just as she was about to leave the house, the telephone rang.

“Hello?”

“Phil here in Provo, honey. How are you?”

“Fine,” Mavis gulped. “Did you get laid last night?”

She grinned, feeling a little devilish as she waited for her husband to answer.

“We’ll talk about it later. I just wanted you to know I will be down here two or three days — wanted to be sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Mavis said. “I have to go to the bank. Call me again tonight. I have to do some things and I want to get them done. By the way, Phil, I was disturbed by you guys’ talk last night — about some-one robbing Willie and the store. Is that really possible?”

“It would be easy as pie,” Phil said tersely. “If certain people knew what the hell they were doing.”

That bothered her all the way downtown to the bank, while she was filling out the withdrawal slip and getting the cash in twenty-dollar bills.

It really never left her mind until she parked behind the supermarket near the loading dock and started in the backway to Willie’s office. Then she was occupied with another thought… would Willie put the make on her again — despite his promise?

Mavis hesitated near the dark stairway to Willie Quentin’s office. Why was there such a trembling in her legs? And there was such an itching and burning all through her loins. It seemed centered in her rectum and flashed through her vulva and into the very depths of her womb.

There seemed to be a grinding and churning in her pussy channel. Quick tears leaped into Mavis’ eyes. Did she want Willie to take her and force her and fuck her again? Oh, no! It was cool here in the dark store-room. It was pleasant; Mavis could smell the mingling of odors, detergents, fresh produce, the butcher shop across the huge building.

Mavis wanted to regain her composure, shuffle off the squirrely yearning to be sexed. Through a small glass window in one of the swinging doors between the storeroom and the market, Mavis could see shoppers wandering up and down the wide aisles. The window was so high she couldn’t see their metal carts — but she had no trouble identifying Becky Samon who pressed a button and stepped into Willie Quentin’s private elevator.

What was Becky doing here? Vexed, smooth brow now wrinkled, Mavis stole up the stairs. Vaguely, she remembered hearing Willie tell Hank he would make Becky. And a case of scotch whiskey rode on the bet!

Full realization hit Mavis at the top of the stairs. Becky would get Willie’s masterful penis, so hard and thick and long — and she would be left wanting!

“Goddamn that Willie Quentin!” Mavis swore softly as she tiptoed up the stairs. “He’s going to get — somehow — a piece of virgin tail and my thousand dollars! Well — screw him — he isn’t getting any more of my ass!”

Mavis wished she could get into Willie’s office — to listen to the red-haired man operate, watch him plug the virgin’s prime pussy. Oh, Lordy! Mavis sighed raggedly. Becky was such a tiny, fragile little thing. If Willie succeeded in seducing her, could she possibly take his huge pole into her unpracticed cunny?

Mavis shivered, perplexed that she was imbued with a hot sense of anticipation. She wanted to see the veteran cocksman stab the little blonde and give her the first fucking of her life! Carefully, Mavis pressed an ear against the door to Willie’s office, straining to hear what was happening inside. She almost stumbled forward. The door had been left unlocked! Had Willie done it deliberately? Probably not.

The door gave inward ever so slightly and Mavis held her breath. She could hear the uneven murmur of voices. For the first time, she acknowledged that, in her subconscious, she would have let Willie have his way with her again. Hadn’t her own husband shacked up the night before, had given his hard pecker to Miriam? And she hadn’t had any of his cock for going on two weeks! Sure, she would have let Willie screw her again, if he pressed her for it. Jealousy began to blossom vilely in her mind. Willie was going to give it to Becky. What the hell did Becky know about how to use and enjoy a prick? Hell! She would probably scream and the pain would keep her from having even a second of pleasure as Willie fucked her. “But I know what to do with a pecker when I get it dicked into my swat,” Mavis whispered to herself.

She no longer could hear the voices and pushed the door inward a couple of inches. If she could just get in the coat closet just inside the door. What the hell if Willie did detect her opening the door? After all, she was supposed to be there.

Resolutely, Mavis pushed the door open about a foot and peeked inside. There was a sound of running water. And Mavis reckoned that Willie was using the bathroom. She opened the door wider. There sat Becky in a chair before Willie’s desk with her back to Mavis.

Quickly, Mavis stepped inside and slipped into the closet — just a few seconds before Willie returned from the bathroom. The closet door gaped open a couple of inches — just as it had been when she scurried inside. She could see a fragment of Becky’s profile; when Willie leaned forward she could see his bushy red hair and his solemn, slightly florid face. Well, she didn’t have to see much, she could hear everything perfectly.

“Becky,” Willie began in a monotone, “you want to marry Dell, don’t you? And I think you are a grand young couple. I think as much of Dell as if he were my son. Yet, Becky…”

Mavis could see the stud horse man lean forward. “I am afraid I may have to do something that may send Dell — damn him! — to the penitentiary.”

“Ooooooh, no!” Becky cried, leaning forward. Mavis got a brief glimpse of her pallid face before she wilted back into the chair.

So, that’s the bastard’s game! Mavis frowned, hating Willie and admiring his technique at the same time.

“Do you have a couple of thousand dollars, Becky — to make up a shortage in store funds that I am positive Dell has taken?”

“My God, no!” Becky cried. And Mavis could hear jerky sobs wracking her petite body. “Dell wouldn’t steal!”

“I thought so; I thought so, too,” Willie murmured. “But facts are facts, Becky.”

Mavis thought Willie was thoroughly enjoying the innocent young woman’s misery and shaken faith in the young man she loved. His eyes glittered and his tongue flicked at his slightly puffy, full lips. Christ! From his expression, he was already savoring her tender, juicy body, Mavis thought. He doesn’t deserve a cherry! Yet, Mavis knew Willie Quentin was going to coerce the sweet virgin into surrendering her body and her naked thighs and her glory place to his sex mace. And Willie — he had proved it to her — would ravage and plunder that sweet, tender pussy with his ruthless, lewd tusk.

And she was going to watch him do it!

And I am a victim of his game, Mavis’ anger boiled. He frightened me into letting him fuck me and I was going to give him a thousand backs for it! Like hell!

“You do want to marry Dell, don’t you, Becky?” Willie said, feigning weariness.

“Ooooohhh, yes!” Becky wept and Mavis could see her shaking with emotion. “We’ve been planning and saving for more than a year! But all of our money is going for furniture and things for our apartment!”

Tell her how you can help her out, Willie, Mavis thought with a mixture of admiration and bitterness.

“I think I have a solution,” Willie cut into Mavis’ thoughts.

“A solution?” Becky sobbed softly.

He has a hard, driving bargain, Becky, Mavis bit her lower lip. When he gets you on the sheets without any clothes on, you’ll find out about his bargain. It’s about nine inches long and thick enough to make a heifer twitch her tail and it shoots thick, pearly cream all over the inside of a woman’s snatch!

It’s called a cock — a hard-on — a prick! And he knows how to exact his pound of female flesh while he pours the meat into you!

Go ahead, Willie, Mavis conjectured, tell Becky that if she lets you seduce her, you mill dig into your own pocket and bail out Dell. Yet, he won’t be giving up a penny! He’ll just be screwing you so Dell won’t go to jail. Well have fun, getting fucked, Becky! Dell has had his nookey! Me! And Connie and Miriam! So, fuck for fun, sweet, innocent young thing!

Mavis crowded close to the slot of the open closet door and watched Willie stand behind his desk. Automatically, Mavis’ gaze dropped down his thick body to the pleated trousers. Yep! He was already sporting a monstrous hard-on!

“Becky,” Willie began slowly, “it will create a problem for me at work and at home. But I am willing to use my monthly bonus and make up the rest to put back a hundred bucks a week for you and Dell. If you agree, I’ll have a talk with Dell — he can keep his job. One thing you mustn’t do and that is mention the whole messy business to him. Promise?”

Mavis swiveled her gaze to squint at the innocent Becky. Her lips curled — a little cruelly — as she watched Becky nod in agreement. She was going to acquiesce to whatever Willie suggested; she was going to consent to lie on her back and let the big, red-haired man fuck her! And for no reason! Dell had done no wrong. But Willie was going to pop the little virgin’s cherry through frightening her.

“Okay, Becky-baby,” Willie said softly, circling slowly around the desk, “to make it worthwhile, for compensation for doing you and Dell a favor, you will come here once a week for twenty weeks. Let’s make it every Wednesday after you finish work at your office. Okay?”

Mavis held her breath, waiting for Becky to reply, wondering if the young woman realized, yet, what Willie was demanding. “All right,” Becky finally answered, sobs ebbing slightly.

Mavis realized that — even though Willie was standing within two feet of her — Becky hadn’t yet seen that Willie had a hard hunk of male twang bulging the front of his pants.

Mavis clenched her thighs together over her own hot, wet crotch, vulva pulpy with erotic desires, as Willie methodically removed his shirt and slipped his belt free. “Get naked, Becky-baby,” Willie wheezed, kicking off his shoes and slipping his trousers over his feet.

“Whaaaat?” Becky murmured as if hypnotized.

“Suuuurrrree,” Willie grinned, tongue licking his thick lips. “For twenty weeks, to pay for Dell’s crime, I’m going to fuck you!”

It was obvious that Becky was so stunned that all she could do was stare and gasp as Willie shuffled out of his shorts and let his massive set of genitals move into her view. The gaping slot in the blunt tip dripped a long string of clear syrup. “I’m going to fuck you, Becky — twenty times to pay for Dell’s till-dipping! Get undressed — or I’ll tear those fancy rags off that virgin back of yours and tear that juicy rear of yours from asshole to belly button! Getcher fuckin’ clothes off!”

“Pleeeaaaasssseee, NO!” Becky wept as she stood uncertainly. Her arms remained rigid at her sides, not protesting as the naked Willie stalked around her, lascivious eyes on her, fat lips kissing her hair, nuzzling her dainty ears. Becky still didn’t protest as Willie removed her bolero jacket and unbuttoned her blouse down the back.

Mavis found herself trembling with passion as she watched Willie swab the head of his massive cock against Becky’s quivering left hip. Becky’s blouse came away and Willie quickly, adroitly undid the three hooks of her lacy bra. It fluttered to the floor and Willie smothered her firm, proud titties with the delicate dark tips with his meaty hands.

Baby, Mavis thought, in a couple of minutes you’re really going to get the meat! Big hard, thick man-meat! Right up your snatch funnel!

Becky was paralyzed, hypnotized — probably as much from seeing Willie’s huge, ready sex banana as from the nightmarish prospect of what was going to happen to her. Doesn’t she realize that Willie is going to deflower her? Mavis wondered, a hand rubbing at her own itching crotch, through her clothes. Doesn’t she know that Willie is about to rupture her cherry with that massive sex-prod of his and fuck her?

Becky was totally naked now and Mavis stared at the sleek thighs, at the full, firm, ripe cheeks of her butt clenched tightly. Her clothes lay in an obscene heap around her dainty ankles. Mavis thought she heard a gurgle of lewd anticipation as Willie traced the tensed crack of Becky’s ass with an index finger.

Get with it! Mavis thought. Flop her down; bust her cunny skin and fuck her!

Mavis was grateful for Becky’s quiet sobbing; it disguised her own passionate gasps. She just prayed that her knees didn’t weaken any more, letting her crumble to the floor. She pressed her face into the open door slot to watch Willie kiss and nuzzle Becky’s tanned shoulders and caress her sleek, slender body. He urged her body forward, bending her so that her well-turned fanny jutted backward. Would he take her there, from the behind? Mavis wondered, fingers digging at her own steaming vulva.

Willie urged Becky’s slender thighs and knees apart with an urgent, hairy leg. Mavis had a minute’s look at the virgin’s small pussy pouch between her legs. The labia that had never been stretched by a man’s cock were clinging together. But, Mavis knew, in a short time, Willie’s massive dong would pry them into an “O” and stretch them around his pulsing shaft as he ripped her hymen and fucked her.

Dell should have this privilege and pleasure, Mavis frowned. I should interfere, she thought. But she remained in her closet, secluded from the crude, lascivious act that was taking place. She wanted Willie’s plundering prong — but she also wanted to see Becky get a brutal, ruthless screwing.

With the fingers of his right hand pursing the firm loaves of Becky’s rear apart, Willie used a bare foot to urge her feet far apart. Her gentle weeping was suddenly jerky and Mavis suspected that Willie was nudging the tip of a finger against her delicate anus.

“Oooooohhhh, noooo!” Becky whimpered as Willie forced her torso lower, placed her hands on her trim ankles. He is going to take her from the rear, Mavis nodded, unable to control her own erotic trembling. Will he bust her in the asshole or will he just fuck her in the pussy?

Mavis wilted silently to her knees. Becky’s slender body was pulsating rhythmically and Mavis sensed her loins must be fluttering with fright or instinctive knowledge of penile penetration. Mavis was only vaguely aware that her hand had crept into her own clothes and she was swabbing fingers up and down her hot, slick vulva, masturbating slowly.

She wanted to close her eyes, but the sight of Willie pushing strong thumbs into Becky’s anal crease and pinching her firm flesh with his fingers was too good to miss. He peeled her cheeks far apart, stretching the rectal entry until Mavis could see the pink inner slickness. Maybe he will cornhole her, she breathed raggedly. But, Becky can’t possible take his cock in her rectum!

Willie lowered the blunt, searching tips of his thumbs and Becky cried out, “Aaaaaahhhhh!” as they pressed the thick lips of her pussy apart. Mavis could see the glazed inner surfaces — and could hardly wait for Willie to jab his hard penis into the tiny petal folds. Mavis pressed her free hand over her mouth as Becky’s flanks heaved and her fingers gripped her ankles more firmly. Her hair fanned down from her head, swept the floor. Her eyes were closed; her mouth was slightly distorted. Mavis suspected shock was wearing off and she now realized she was on the verge of coital violation.

Mavis stared as Becky suddenly opened her eyes wide, staring, unseeing, as Willie bored an index finger into her vagina. “Oh, baby! You’re still virgin! You got a tiny little basket of fruit for picking in there! Man! You’re goin’ to have the best fruit-plucker fucking you in this world!”

Becky cried something unintelligible and Mavis stared at her body, at the convulsion of smooth muscles in her flanks as Willie wormed his finger around in her tight snatch. Fuck her, Willie! And get it over with! Stop torturing her! Jam your cock into her and end her misery!

“I’m goin’ to give you a thousand bucks, besides!” Willie muttered. And Mavis stiffened, her hand freezing as she rubbed her stiff clit-thorn, on the rim of a violent orgasm. NOT MY THOUSAND BUCKS, WILLIE!

Mavis resumed playing with her passion-greased groove again — wanting Willie’s prick in her — as he moved in behind Becky’s uptilted rump and rubbed the head of his cock up and down her wide-parted crack.

“Aaaaaaaiiiiii — Eeeeeeeiiiii!” Becky muttered, gurgling as Willie’s hot, wet knob stroked her crack and nudged into the vulva.

Mavis stared at Becky’s proud titties that sagged slightly toward the floor. The tips were extended and hard. She may be terrified of the rape she was undergoing, Mavis thought, but her woman’s intuition is primed for it. The fleshy curtain to her vagina fluttered and Mavis knew Becky was instinctively ready for penile insertion. She may not even feel the tearing and destruction of her hymen — if she can accommodate Willie’s mammoth prick!

Well, now you are going to get it, Becky, darling! Mavis thought, as Willie waddled in behind her like a bull in heat in a pasture alone with a young heifer. He placed a hand on her quivering hip and used the other to bend his cockhead into her parted vulva. He pressed forward and shook his hips from side to side — right on target.

Mavis suppressed a gasp as she watched the purplish head of his cock sink into Becky’s body, disappear slowly into her coital receptacle.

“Aaaaeggggthhh!” Becky screamed softly, yet bracing herself and holding her ass steady to take the big man behind her. “Noooo!” she screamed a little more shrilly. And Mavis knew that Willie had lodged his penetrator against the hymen. She could see his dark stick pulsing and vibrating. She wished he would turn his head so she could see whether Becky’s tight cunny gave him any pain.

He grunted and groaned, grasping the tiny young woman’s heaving flanks. Relentlessly, he pulled her body back onto him.

“Gggggggaaaaaaagggggghhhhhh!” Becky screamed shrilly and Mavis knew Willie had ripped away her cherry as his cock plunged into her stretched twat a couple of inches — fast. He swiveled his hips, swabbing his knob around just inside her pussy. Becky’s mouth was wide open and she was gasping as Willie fucked her in little, short strokes.

At last he concentrated on drilling his prick into her. Inch by inch. Becky didn’t scream anymore, just braced herself and absorbed that massive, ravaging prick in her body. Mavis thought Willie would never make it all. But he succeeded in burying his rapacious prong in the virginal pussy and his balls slapped against the backs and insides of Becky’s trembling thighs.

Willie kept his cock deep in her, soaking, as he leaned back and looked down at Becky impaled from the rear. And Mavis could see Becky’s fluttering anus. Muscles were rippling sleekly in her thighs — and Mavis sensed the small woman was adjusting to the ruthless violation of her pussy. Maybe she will like being fucked! Even the first time!

From the way her body shook and the alto-tone whimperings sifting from her wide open mouth. Mavis knew the virgin was getting something out of her first fuck. Willie was rubbing his big hands all over her, pushing his hairy chest down on her bowed back and playing with her titties, pinching the tiny nipples. He leaned back, hands still locked on her flanks just above the flare of her hips and hauled about eight inches of his cock out of her tight vagina.

Then he thrust it back into her, steadily — a masterful fuck-stroke, sinking his he-sausage deep. Becky squalled as he plunged it all the way past her cervix, possibly into the resisting womb. No… maybe he just expanded her sex well to take care of his huge hose. Her cries and sobs and wailings were indecipherable. Was she liking her first fucking? Willie began fucking her in long, penetrating strokes. He bent his knees, held his body rigid, hauling Becky’s rear end back on his pussy-skewer — pushed her off of it, towed her body back. He was using her frail body so that she fucked herself!

His soft, gloating chuckle was almost obscene in the private office as he pumped her body back and forth on his thick shaft. And something was happening to Becky. Mavis couldn’t describe the mutterings that were cascading from her twisted lips. Then! Mavis knew! Becky was in the throes of the first climax of her life — at least while her snatch was pinioned by a male poker. She was orgasming all over the place.

The scream was indescribable! Yes! She was begging! Her words became discernable! “Ffffuuuccckkkmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeee!”

God! Is she cumming, Mavis marveled as Willie began thudding his ass forward, driving his cock into the fragile body as he yanked her quivering ass back on his sex-spindle. His balls were slapping up between her legs, against Becky’s tight, cock-filled belly.

You wonderful, sexy little birch! Mavis marveled as she soared into her own climax, three fingers buried in her pussy, a thumb compressing her throbbing clit. Christ! How you love cock!

Becky’s hands were off her ankles and braced flat on the floor as Willie thudded his long meat post into her swat. She was squalling softly, begging for prick, reveling in having her snatch banged by a master’s prick.

“You really love to fuck, don’t you, Becky?” Mavis murmured ever-so-softly to herself, her own body shuddering with erotic sex-thrills.

All of Becky’s smooth muscles seemed to be rippling like a sleek cat loping freely. And she was begging plaintively for Willie not to stop fucking her. For her first time, Mavis thought, she was voracious and demanding to have prick plugging her pussy.

Suddenly, Willie rammed his cock far into her and Mavis knew he was shooting his thick, creamy stuff into the never-to-be-again-virgin.

“Aaaaahhhh — oooohhhh — Goooood!” Becky squealed with pleasure as Willie’s prick hosed her twat full of male juice.

Mavis watched until Willie slowly extracted his cock from Becky’s vibrating vagina and dropped onto his haunches so he could tongue out her pussy and worm his folded tongue into her asshole.

Mavis enjoyed her own, self-induced climax and listened to Becky have an anal cum as Willie squirreled his tongue around inside the small woman’s hot butt hole.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

At last, Willie stumbled to his feet and into his bathroom helping the trembling Becky into a chair as he went. Mavis regained her composure and stepped into Willie’s office. With a hand on the back of Becky’s chair she peered down at the naked girl, at the heaving tits that were still pointed with unaccustomed passion.

Becky’s thighs were pressed together, but Mavis could see the remnants of jizz oozing from her snatch and glazing her inner thighs. One of Becky’s hands was on her mound, fingers twirling tendrils of strawberry blonde pubic hair. The girl’s eyes were closed and she was still experiencing the after explosions of orgasm, enjoying the thunderous sensation of having a man’s cock pumping into her pussy for the first time.

Mavis frowned. “Get dressed, Becky,” she said softly, then whirled to stalk into Willie’s private bathroom. She grinned. He had really had a blast and was straining to force pee through his swollen tube. Clear syrup dripped from the gaping slit as he grunted with Herculean effort. Then his water started.

It was then Mavis knotted her fingers into a fist and struck him with all her strength — right where his bent-out cock was rooted to his crotch. She swung again and belted him in the yo-yoing balls.

The shock even shut off Willie’s scream. She hit him again in the gonads; again — right on his cunt-slimed tusk. He wilted to the floor on his back in misery.

“I know your game, Willie! And you won’t get my dough! You can have whatever you want — from others — but not from me!” Mavis turned and called to Becky, “In here, honey!”

When Becky weaved into the small bathroom, Mavis said to Willie, “Tell her what she has to do!”

Willie seemed to put his pain out of his mind as he stared at his recent conquest who had gotten dressed. “You will come back every week,” he said.

“And you will fuck me twenty times — and give me a thousand dollars, Mr. Quentin,” Becky nodded, a feverish light in her eyes.

“Yeeesss,” Willie mumbled.

“When do I come back for our next fuck?” Becky smiled wanly.

“We — shall — fuck — again — Wednesday,” Willie muttered, flopping slowly back on the floor, one hand holding his big balls, the other nursing his aching penis.

“Yes, Mr. Quentin — you will fuck me again Wednesday…”


Mavis led Becky to her old car, eased the slip of a woman into the passenger’s seat. Then she drove back to the bank and redeposited the thousand dollars. She smiled at Becky when she returned to the car. Becky wore a wistful expression, “I had IT! I seemed to go all to pieces! You know what Mr. Quentin did to me, don’t you, Mrs. Moran? He put his man-thing in me — fuuuncccckkked me! And…” her voice turned dreamy, thoughtful… “I liked it! It hurt a little bit at first, especially when he seemed to tear me!”

That’s when she lost her cherry, Mavis mused, driving off. Oh, what a lovely baby — and BODY! — Mavis pouted, deftly adjusting the mirror so she could glance up and see Becky’s reflection as she drove. She wished Becky would relax, spread her knees — but she knew that Willie’s jizz coated her inner legs. Damn! She would take Becky home and spruce her up!

Mavis almost swept through a traffic signal. What was she thinking? How come her heart pounded so frantically and irregularly? She had heard — had read… did she have hot nuts to love this dainty, vibrant young woman? Was she contemplating girl-girl love? Oh, my God! Mavis wailed mentally. Yes, she wanted to undress the little Becky, see her nudity, put her hands on that smooth, satiny skin!

Then what would she do? Mavis’ mouth turned dry… then it was secreting juices, fast as she could swallow. Were these love juices? Her vision was filled with the traffic and green trees and children gamboling on smooth sidewalks — and ripe young tittie points!

Mavis almost swooned as she drove into her own driveway. She had an insatiable craving to put her mouth where Willie’s penis had explored. She was suddenly obsessed with the frantic desire to eat Becky’s tender young pussy!

Becky was docile as a pet as Mavis led her into the house, into the kitchen where she mixed two screw-drivers. Mavis turned to see Becky sip her drink, melt to the floor, sit Indian-fashion. And she noticed that the little strawberry blonde hadn’t bothered — or thought about skinning into her panties.

The pooch of her pussy allowed no hint that a huge prick had bored into those sweet lips, stretched them into a big doughnut! Mavis braced herself against the dinette table as she stared at that gorgeous young snatch, the puffy mound and pouting, full lips that now clung together — oh, so inviting to be pressed and kissed.

Mavis clutched the edge of the table until the tips of her fingers ached. She longed to touch-tease a little — purse — part — caress — tug that reddish, curly hair that adorned the mound like a valuable crown of spun gold — put a finger in that orifice that, oh, so short a time ago had been plugged with a massive pecker that had gunned it full of vile male jizz!

Mavis wanted to finish what Willie had left undone. She yearned to lick those puffy, pinkish lips and siphon out all of that secretion of lust. She wanted to suck Becky’s cunny, clean, purify and launch that gorgeous ass into sexy orbit and hear those nasty, pleadings… “Ffffuuucccckkmmmeee!”

There was a wistful, pouty smile on Becky’s lips, a dreamy look of MMMMOOOOORRRRREEEEE in her greenish eyes. Although passion was mounting in Mavis’ loins, she sensed a hot, burning dryness. She didn’t know how, but she just knew she could do so much for the tender Becky. Conversely, she knew that Becky could do something for her.

“Did it hurt — Becky — when he broke your — cherry? Did his big cock hurt you when he shoved it into your — pussy? How did it — feel — getting your first — fuck — from such a huge — cock?”

She watched Becky and frowned as the small young woman shook her head, tossed her beautiful hair. “Was his thing — big? He did fuck me — didn’t he? That is the word — FUCK?”

Mavis peered at her intently as Becky stared into her eyes. She seemed dazed, disbelieving. “I was saving myself for — Dell! And Mr. Quentin stripped me naked — and played his hands on my body — squeezed my boobies — pushed his thing at me… INTO ME… and FUCKKKKKEDDDD MMMEE…! He took my maidenhead… F-U-C-K-E-D meeeeeee! I hurt — for a little mite of time! Then it was goooooood! I liked his fucking me!”

Mavis inhaled deeply. She was puzzled. She wanted to scratch her own snatch.

“He’s a liar! Dell wouldn’t steal from anyone! He lied! He conned me! At first, before I realized what was going on, I was terrified. I didn’t understand until after he shoved his cock into me, broke my cherry and fucked me! But I loved it! I wish he was here now! That b-a-s-t-a-r-d! I would make him fuck me right now! I like fucking and to be fucked!”

Mavis couldn’t understand why she felt so weak as she mixed a pitcher of screwdrivers and urged Becky to her feet. The young woman said nothing as Mavis steered her upstairs to the master bedroom. How can I fuck her? Mavis worried, refilling their glasses and watching Becky drift onto the huge double bed. I can kiss her pussy and suck it and tongue it and dip my tongue into her vagina! I can — I can try to work my tongue into her asshole and make her cum like Willie did!

Becky slugged at her drink as Mavis ran a full tub of extra-warm water. She cooed and purred as Mavis undressed her, assisting the removal of her clothing by turning, lifting… lifting… lifting. Mavis almost fainted with sensual hunger as Becky raised her fanny high, saluting the attention with a bump and grind of her enticing, hairy crotch and puffed vulva.

How can I fuck her? Mavis pondered, stripping out of her own clothes. How does one woman fuck another? I can suck her — eat her juicy, delectable hair-dish — but I can’t fuck her! Only a man has a big prick and can fuck deep into a woman’s pussy.

She bent and kissed Becky’s docile, pliant lips, let her greedy mouth nuzzle, trail to capture one of Becky’s succulent tittie points. Mavis sucked hard, felt Becky’s timid hand pressing into her own left breast. She was reassured by Becky’s quickening breath…

Mavis would feel her way along. She would bathe the young thing good and bed her… instinct would lead her… maybe, Becky would eat her pussy, too! A hot shimmer shivered all through Mavis’ body as the thought steamed in her mind. It would be wonderful to have a virgin love her cunt! She gently tugged Becky from the bed and urged her into the hot bath. As she was about to step in, too, the telephone rang.

“Damnit!” Mavis swore softly, lunging back into the bedroom. “Hello!”

“This is Phil, Mavis; ‘fraid I’ll be tied up until at least next Saturday. The ginks who pulled this job think they are pretty smart. It’s about the same type of setup as the guys were talking about at the poker party. The same chain store, as a matter of fact. No security. One manager collects all of the money. Easy robbery. But I think, in this case, it is one of the armored van crews behind it. Should have it solved by Friday night. These bastards don’t know how to cover tracks… anyone with brains could rob these people and never be touched! See ya sometime Saturday.”

Mavis’ tension and preoccupation with the naked young woman in the bath tub had no chance to change before Phil broke the connection. He was gone. All Mavis was left with was a vague, nagging worry and the sexual opportunity for girl-girl adventure.

Trembling with anticipation, Mavis returned to the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to study the petite Becky who was lying in the full tub of warm water, knees drawn up and flung apart, saucy breast mounds bobbing firmly. Her pretty lips arched slightly in a smile of beautific contentment. Her half-closed eyes almost formed a question of what happens next, but not quite.

When Mavis stepped into the tub, between Becky’s feet, the strawberry blonde woman drew herself up slightly in the tub to make room for her. Mavis shivered with pleasure as she squatted and the hottish water lapped against her taut buttocks and splashed into the gentle gape of her swollen, excited vulva. She felt her clitoris stiffening and extending out of its little fleshy sheath and she was growing passionately hot.

To restrain herself from all but attacking the enticing young beauty, she picked up the large bar of perfumed soap in both hands and began to rub it up and down the inner planes of Becky’s silky thighs.

“Aaaaahhhh-ooooh!” Becky sighed, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as Mavis worked the smooth soap up and down her legs, each stroke reaching nearer and nearer the glorious vee of those perfect legs. She has a healthy fur patch, Mavis squinted at Becky’s gently rounded pussy that had accommodated such an enormous cock for the first time just a short time before. She had to admit there was no evidence that Willie’s penis had stretched it out of shape. She was young, her labia very elastic and resilient, Mavis marveled, at last grazing the puffy flesh with its lavish growth of curly pubic hair.

“Aaaaahhhh!” Becky murmured and Mavis could see the muscles crawl in Becky’s pussy, then up over her curvy body to rub the proud titties with erect nipples.

“Ooooooohhhhhh-la-laaaaa!” Becky cooed as Mavis built a rich lather on the firm melons with the bar in one hand and using the other to caress and squeeze and tease the dark brownish-pink point. You’re a sensuous young lady, Mavis thought, letting the soap slip away and using both hands on Becky’s breasts. Why haven’t you let Dell get into you before this? There are a few of us who know that he is a virile young stud with a very adequate and eloquent tuba. Didn’t he gun me and Connie and Miriam full of thick he-cream? How did you manage to keep him out of your sexy saddle? Mavis wanted to ask as she trailed her hands down over Becky’s narrow waist and let her fingers dally with Becky’s pert mound and the tight crease formed by the lips of her almost virginal snatch.

“Did it hurt when Willie broke your cherry?” Mavis asked, forgetting she had asked the question before.

“A little,” Becky murmured. “But it was more surprise and not really knowing what to expect from his big dick than anything else. He was really quite gentle, in a way. I have heard and read that often a girl’s first experience with coitus is the next thing to being butchered. But Mr. Quentin really fucked me quite gently. God! Is his thing huge! But,” and Mavis frowned at the faint smirk on Becky’s lips, “I’m already looking forward to the next time he fucks me. I wish there was some way I could watch Dell at work while Mr. Quentin fucks me, not knowing his fiancee was being screwed!”

Mavis was stunned slightly by the sex ingenue’s frank admission. In spite of her fairly broad sexual experiences, Mavis was in doubt that she could function to any degree of satisfaction if Phil were watching some other man fuck her!

Becky’s satisfied purring ended Mavis’ distraction and she glanced down at Becky’s squirming body to see that her fingers had parted the full, ripe petals and had dipped into the full blossom of Becky’s aroused swat. “Let’s get out and dry,” Mavis said, almost curtly.

Mavis’ passion had cooled somewhat and she stepped away from Becky and the two of them dried themselves. Becky seemed to be pouting. Had she expected Mavis to dry and excite her with the towel? A quick glance told Mavis that Becky wanted more by-play, wanted hands on her naked body. As passionate as she was, Mavis mused, how had she managed to keep some man from getting to her, romping between those golden thighs in bed or the back seat of a car?

And how innocent was she? The crude, vulgar words sprang easily from her lips… the coarse words had never come freely and with ease with her. She had had a variety of men chunk the meat into her before she would even permit her mind to shape the word, fuck! Yet, Becky spoke it like a hard-bitten whore! Well, what the hell? She raked the rough towel through her crotch and tingled the clit and she almost gasped aloud with sensual pleasure.

She tossed the towel into a hamper and reached into a closet for a bottle with an atomizer. Squatting halfway to the floor, Mavis sprayed her genital area with the sting-less cologne, then under her arms. Without a word, she handed the bottle with the rubber bulb to Becky who followed suit.

“At least we have nice-smelling cunnies,” Mavis smiled, patting Becky on the pert behind and fingering the enticing crease of her butt.

“I like Mr. Quentin’s spray hose and perfume,” Becky giggled. “Maybe we oughta get him over here and milk him dry — take turns. I’ve heard of gals gang-banging a guy as well as the other way around!”

“How about Dell?” Mavis asked, deliberately attempting to cut the young woman.

“Weeeellll, why not?” Becky smirked, striding naked ahead of Mavis into the bedroom and pouring a fresh drink.

Maybe what little they had drunk had induced Becky to speak so easily and profusely about — screwing! Mavis mused. What baffled her was how to proceed with her seduction of this juicy young thing. Mavis was itchy with anticipation and heat was generating all through her tummy as she watched the healthy young animal set aside her empty glass and crawl into the center of the bed. “Mavis,” Becky said hesitantly, invitingly, “please play with me and — see if you can give me those tingly thrills Mr. Quentin did. Please?”

Straightforward, Mavis suppressed a frown. But what, really, do I do? She had been tight and only vaguely remembered the sex-working-over she, herself, had received from Miriam and Connie. Maybe she should call them!

Hell, no! She wanted this pliant young sex-gadget for herself. Mavis was giddy and a little awkward as she climbed onto the bed with her tits swaying gently.

“Oooooohhhhh, Mavis!” Becky breathed, “you have beautiful boobies. Let’s have some real fun! I’ve heard that girls can make each other feel sooooo gooooood! Kiss my titties and I’ll kiss yours. I think we’re going to have a yummy afternoon! Oh, golly! My hole — both holes — itch and twitch and burn!”

Mavis maneuvered across Becky so that she could suck onto one of Becky’s hard little nipples and her own left breast was pressed firmly against Becky’s face. Instantly, Becky’s hot little tongue curled around a tittie point and it was nursed into Becky’s wet, avid mouth. Christ! she thought, she had never sucked another girl’s tit before. She liked it! And she knew, instinctively, she would have no hang-ups about tonguing and sucking Becky’s aromatic pussy! She cupped a hand firmly over Becky’s hairy snatch and the young woman began squirming and writhing on the sheet. “Put your finger in my cunny, Mavis!” Becky begged as Mavis cleaved the hot lips and fingered the dainty sex-nub.

As she nibbled a nipple, then licked Becky’s arm-pit, Mavis hoped, fervently, that the hot young thing would mouth — love her pussy — the way Mavis was going to eat hers.

Slowly, carefully, Mavis shifted position, swung her left leg over Becky and lowered her bottom toward the small woman’s upturned face. The girl’s lips and mouth continued to work in a suckling manner after Mavis had withdrawn her breast berry. She stopped when she could feel Becky’s breath gently fanning against her anus and parted crease.

As Mavis nestled her own face into Becky’s perfumed crotch, Becky’s legs rose straight into the air, thighs flung wide, and Mavis was able to plow her tongue into the juicy groove and dip it deep into the vibrating vagina. At the same time, she pressed her own hairy snatch against Becky’s face and her love-partner latched her mouth onto the full folds of tender flesh and dived her tongue into Mavis’ hungry pussy.

Becky began shuddering first, then Mavis couldn’t control her own thunderous pleasure that rippled through her loins. In unison, they started gurgling, “Ooooohhh — Aaaaaghhh!”

Their climaxes were shattering. Becky was bucking and up-fucking with her bottom as her legs latched behind Mavis’ neck. And Mavis sucked deeply and snaked her tongue far into the girl’s steaming pussy and reveled in the grip of inner muscles and she lapped greedily. And Becky was sucking noisily and chewing gently on the thick, swollen passion-petals of Mavis’ fuck-receptacle.

Later, they lay entwined in each other’s arms, hot fifties crushed together, sleek thighs working together as they rubbed their Venus mounds together, girl-fucking…

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mavis awoke slowly, grateful that she could abandon the subconscious and the nightmare of reality she had lived the past few weeks. She felt funny, tingly all over. She worked a hand under the sheet and touched her highly sensitive breasts. Then her hand slid lower and she found her crowning glory was, indeed, gone. Her mound was smooth-skinned and she couldn’t find a single tendril of curly hair on her puffed, sensitive outer labia. The nurses HAD shorn her completely. Phil had told her so, but she wasn’t sure he had talked to her or whether it was all part of a dream.

But her crotch was smooth and slick and a trifle raw from the effects of the tape and the razor. She pulled her foot up under the sheet and spread her knees wide. Well, she thought, eyes darting about the hospital room, that bastard hadn’t damaged anything but her pride, really. She pressed a finger into her vulva. “All the working parts are intact,” she giggled softly.

She wondered what all those cops had thought, finding her and Willie tied up in his office, without a stitch on and their genital areas swathed in adhesive tape. She knew she should feel a sense of embarrassment at having strange men see her naked but there was only relief that they had been rescued. Poor Willie! Mavis would bet the hospital had had a hell of a time getting the tape off his hard-on — and he probably didn’t have a hair left on his balls!

Mavis wolfed a breakfast of fruit juice, hot cereal toast, coffee and two poached eggs. She was enjoying her third cup of coffee when her husband swept into the room, kissed her quickly and reached under the bedclothes to cup her hairless pussy. “This will be like screwing a ten-year-old virgin,” he teased.

“I was raped, Phil,” Mavis frowned, worried eyes studying his.

“It could be worse, baby,” Phil said, kissing her forehead and clasping one of her hands. “No real damage done.”

“Did you screw Miriam that night?” she blurted suddenly.

“Let’s put it this way,” Phil replied softly, strolling away, his back to her as he stared out the only window in the room. “I was a little drunk — and she screwed me.”

“Hank got to me, too,” she confessed, holding her breath, fearful of male denunciation growing from injured ego. She almost screamed at him to say something, he was so silent for so long.

Finally, Phil turned and winked solemnly, reassuringly. “I guess we’re even on that score.”

Conversation was stalled for a minute as a nurse entered with a fresh pot of coffee and an extra cup, for Phil. “How about more coffee?” she smiled superfluously and was gone.

“The robbers got about $238,000 in cash and another $22,000 in checks,” Phil said slowly, filling their cups. “The bonding company has banned me from the case.”

“Why?” Mavis said with a start, and an old fear assailed her again. Was Phil involved in the robbery? Was he under suspicion? She had heard the men all talking about how easy it would be to rob Willie!

“I’m an acquaintance — a friend — of Willie’s. Even Hank has been taken off the case by the Salt Lake Police Department — for the same reason.”

“Who’s investigating?” Mavis asked weakly.

“The SLCPD — and Ben Glover for the bonding company.”

“Why Glover?” Mavis fretted. “He’s an acquaintance of Willie and Hank and you!”

“Not a close friend,” Phil said bluntly, “certainly not a neighbor like Hank and me.”

Mavis didn’t like the tight, cold knot in her stomach. Was Phil involved? She wanted to, but knew she didn’t dare ask.

“Well, I don’t care,” Phil laughed, seemingly relaxed and sincere. “It’s going to be a tough one to crack. A real professional job. The two armored van guards — they were chloroformed or something and didn’t, really, see a thing. Hell! They lost another couple of hundred grand or so from their rig!”

They finished their coffee and Mavis watched Phil pick up the small suitcase he had set just inside the door. “I brought you some clothes. Why don’t you get dressed and let’s go home?”

Mavis smiled happily, threw back the sheet and scrambled off the bed. For a minute, she surveyed her reddened, irritated fifties and hairless pubic mound. “I don’t think I like being hairless,” she complained wistfully.

“I like it,” Phil grinned, a finger nudging the unwhiskered smile of her pussy and a hand caressing the smooth cheeks of her butt.

“Don’t mess,” Mavis said sulkily, remembering that Miriam shaved her crotch. Had her husband enjoyed fucking Miriam? she fretted on the way home. A sense of frustration almost overwhelmed her. Phil liked Miriam’s slick cunt — and he hadn’t diddled her in a long time! Well, she had to admit that Hank had given her a real humping in the kitchen! And Willie certainly knew how to get a girl to spin like a sex top! And Dell had made her cum, like wowee! And Errol Flynn — the Carrs’ boxer! And les-love had its kicks! The robber-rapist she hadn’t enjoyed at all!

As she and Phil approached the back door, Mavis remembered something that caused her to stop. She remembered, as the robber dropped his coveralls and shorts and she stared at his dong, she had seen a wart on the left side, about an inch back of the dark, swollen glans. And it had raked the wall of her vagina with a certain tantalizing effect.

If she saw that penis again, she would know who had fucked her! Maybe she should tell Henry Carr what she remembered! She shook her head and frowned at her own stupidity. She could just hear Hank say, “How do I put out an all-points bulletin for a guy with a wart on his pecker?”

In the house, as Phil mixed a couple of scotch and waters, Mavis was still preoccupied and troubled. Phil hadn’t been perturbed that she had been raped — hadn’t seem particularly affected by her announcement that Hank had pumped the prick to her. Well, he had admitted he had prickered Miriam’s pussy!

Should she tell him about the robber-rapist? Maybe he would be peeved to find his wife paid close attention to a man’s dingus before he socked it to her cunt!

What the hell! She was getting tired of being a sex captive, of sorts. “The guy who banged me during the robbery had a wart on his shaft!” she blurted. “About an inch behind the head!”

Instead of being irritated by the admission his wife inspected pricks before they were stabbed into her snatch, Phil seemed to beam. “Goddamn! I feel this has to be a close-to-home heist! And that may be just the clue we need!” Then he wilted slightly. “How the hell do you find a guy with a wart on his business?”

Mavis shrugged. That was similar to the comment she would expect from Police Lieutenant Henry Carr.

The gnawing worry that her husband had something to do with the supermarket robbery lingered with Mavis. “Whom do you suspect, Phil?” she asked cautiously.

“Absolutely nobody at this time,” he frowned. “It was a real, professional job!” That didn’t make Mavis feel any better; her husband, because of his background in insurance investigation, could qualify as an expert in such a venture.

“I wouldn’t want any of the money,” she said timidly.

“You wouldn’t want part of about four-hundred grand?” Phil chuckled dryly. “All in unmarked, untraceable bills!” Mavis felt like crying.

About three o’clock, the Carrs came over and Mavis was grateful for the break in the awkwardness between Phil and her.

“Willie has a slight concussion and the blackest eye I ever saw,” Hank chuckled as Phil served drinks.

“And eight inches of the rawest meat this side of the butcher shop!” Miriam laughed. “That oughta keep his sausage out of a girl’s grinder for a while!”

“When they took all of that tape off Mavis,” Phil said with his slow, shy, engaging grin, “they…” he paused to sip his scotch… “I guess I’ll have to get her a hairpiece.”

“They shaved her?” Miriam chortled with glee.

Mavis reddened.

“Smooth as Miriam?” Hank grinned.

“Absolutely!” Phil replied.

“I’ll be damned!” Hank almost choked on his drink and a sliver of ice.

“You’d be shaved — not damned!” Miriam corrected. “I’ve never seen a man without bushes and bushes of cockle hair!”

And Mavis knew that Phil, truly, had screwed Miriam — and Hank knew it. And Phil and Miriam knew that she had been plundered by Hank’s cock; his stallion had stampeded all through her sex corral!

Mavis glanced at Phil and recognized he wasn’t about to mention her knowledge that one of the robbers had a wart on his dong! And she wouldn’t say anything, either.

“How much does the police know about the job,” Phil asked, rising to mix another round and sauntering out to the kitchen for a couple of cigars from the refrigerator.

“I found out that there was no death in the family of one of Willie’s employees — the cashier, I think. That’s about all I found out before I was taken off the case early this morning. The notice really came from Ogden, not Los Angeles.”

“What do you really think, Hank? An ‘inside’ job?” Phil pursued.

“Who can tell, at this time? I know that I took two weeks of my vacation, starting today when I was relieved of the investigation.”

Were their friends and neighbors involved? Mavis fretted, wishing she wasn’t getting drunk so she could think clearly. She tried to recall, in detail, the animal-like thrusts of the robber’s cock into her cunt. She remembered, not quite clearly, the rasp of the wart in her vagina as he fucked her. It had sent sharp electrical sparks all through her pelvic region as it rasped the wall of her channel. Then he had sunk his cock deep and shot her full of his jizz.

She couldn’t remember — but she didn’t recall that Willie had a wart on his dong. And she had watched it all taped up. Hell! She had even jacked him off to make him hard! But she couldn’t remember. Oh, that didn’t figure. He had been bound into his chair and the guy who had screwed her while she was all tied up was the guy with the node on his pussy-knocker! I guess I am getting drunk! She hadn’t seen Hank’s packer. He had fucked her from behind, in the dark kitchen. She didn’t know whether she had felt a wart or not. She had been tense and apprehensive. Who else had fucked her? She wasn’t sure about Dell Emerson; that had been almost like rape — under threat. Who? She had seen Glover’s cock, vaguely, as he plunged it into Terry Lewis. But it had been dark. Oh, damn! She was starting to suspect everyone she knew. It probably was none of them — she hoped.

But, if she could find the guy with the wart on his penis, she would have one of the gangsters. And that might lead to the others. There was one thing she had to do — that was clear in her alcohol-fuzzed brain — to find the guy with the raspy little lump on the side of his peter!

How? Maybe she would start up or down through the ranks and screw the most likely suspects. Why not Hank first? He was here!

The prospect of a hunt for a certain pecker started a warm tingling in her loins and Mavis sensed hot juices perking all through her itching vagina. She nodded as Miriam excused herself to go to the bathroom. Then Henry remembered a telephone call he wanted to make and said, “I’ll use the extension in the kitchen.”

As soon as Mavis and Phil were alone, her husband asked, “Do you suppose Hank might be THE guy? You really don’t remember from the night he pumped his prick to you?”

Mavis frowned. “No, I don’t.”

She remembered the exquisite sensation of having her twat filled with mammoth prick and his harsh hairiness rasping against her fanny cheeks and the backs of her thighs. But a wart on his sex-pole? No.

“Maybe you should take steps to find out,” Phil said, frankly inviting her to take on Hank as if he had no more concern about his wife screwing another man than if he had suggested that she start dinner.

“Oh, Phil!” Mavis demurred. And she was troubled again by the possibility of identifying the robber who had fucked her. What if he did turn out to be one of their close acquaintances — and Phil were involved? Yet, maybe he wasn’t a party to the crime. She just couldn’t visualize her husband standing by and letting some guy screw her during the robbery when it wasn’t necessary. However, it occurred to her, he could have been part of the gang and had remained outside the store.

Oh, Christ! She didn’t know whom to suspect! “Phil, you don’t really think our friends could be involved, do you?”

“If I were investigating this thing — which I’m not — I would look at it as an inside job,” Phil said, “and that includes Willie.”

“Not Willie, honey,” Mavis protested. “You didn’t see the way that guy slugged him.”

“Maybe you’re right about Willie,” Phil shrugged as Henry and Miriam rejoined them. “There’s one way we — you — can start eliminating possibilities.”

And this meaning was obvious — seduce the suspects!

After Phil had distributed fresh drinks, Mavis frowned at him. “Okay! But no one is going to watch!”

Phil only answered with a grin, nodding as Mavis shifted position casually on the sofa and let her skirt brush high up on her thighs. Her sex scenery wasn’t missed by Hank’s eyes and Mavis thought she detected a telltale swelling as he steamed up slightly.

It would be no trouble to seduce Hank — but she was damned if she were going to let Miriam and Phil watch her examine Hank’s dong for a wart, then flop onto her back and let him fuck her!

Well, get Miriam out of here! Mavis fretted mentally. If I’m going to lay Hank, I want both of you out of here! Hank’s eyes were drawn to her parted knees, trying to stare up her skirt to her panty-clad pussy. And Mavis felt his gaze was almost a physical touch on her bare skin and she was beginning to get a little hot. She leaned toward her husband and said softly, a little bitchily, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen yours — maybe you’ve developed a wart in that time.”

“Bullshit!” Phil snapped and Mavis watched him shuffle on the sofa, noticeably uncomfortable and perhaps a little guilty.

“We’re about out of booze,” Phil said offhandedly. “I think I better take a trip to the liquor store. Who wants to go along? Hank? Miriam? Just to make sure I can find my way back.”

“Let me go, Phil,” Miriam said quickly. “I want to get some things at the supermarket and the pharmacy next door.”

Mavis turned her head to hide a scowl. You slut! You want to get in my husband’s pants again!

“Okay, let’s go,” Phil said amiably, clearly pleased that Miriam was going with him. And Mavis pouted. And you want another crack at her cookie jar!

In seconds, Mavis was left alone with Hank whose eyes were becoming glazed with passion as he continued trying to penetrate her panties with his eyes to explored her freshly shaved crotch. She spread her legs a little wider, giving him a totally unobstructed view of the silk-covered joy place. “You old dog,” she said lightly, “you want to bury your bone in it, don’t you?”

She winked at him as he gulped his drink. You bastard, stare! I know you didn’t see it that night, it was too dark in the kitchen. All you got was a lustful feel and you shoved it to me from behind and unloaded your fizz. Well, I’ll get a good look at it today!

Mavis didn’t have to force a dazzling smile of invitation. She was beginning to appreciate Hank’s lecherous stare up her dress. She squirmed slightly and her dress was rolled up in her lap and her long, tapering legs were in full view. Hank feasted his eyes on the inner softness of her creamy thighs and the rich curve of her pussy.

“I don’t expect them back for a while,” Mavis murmured. “Wanta finish what you started the other night?”

“What?” Hank muttered, a little dumbly, his mouth working as if he were already gobbling her pussy. Mavis made the muscles slither in her thighs and Hank’s eyes bulged.

“You didn’t give me a complete fucking,” she smiled, slowly unbuttoning her blouse and slipping it off. She arched her back, lifting her bra-encased titties high. “Like?” she teased as she removed the bra and moved her body from side to side, causing her ripe boobies to jounce before Hank’s feverish gaze. “You just had your own jollies,” she pouted, “a girl likes to be fucked with a good prick until she has her fun, too. And you have such a magnificent cock, Hank,” she added, praising and flattering him, but meaning it, too.

His big meat was wonderful; it had filled her cunny to the brim. And she was getting more anxious to crack his big nuts and have his thick cream whipped in her churning box.

And it was obvious, from the husky bulge in Hank’s trousers that he was well-armed, even though he had left his police revolver at home, that he was getting huge, and had a high-caliber gun barrel. Just the banana for her hot split!

Mavis’ vagina was crawling with the sensation of an active sponge, twitching in its eagerness to soak up Hank’s ready phallus. She stood and leaned forward slightly, tempting Hank with her full titties, tips swollen and hard. She hoisted her skirt from the back, not letting him see her, and grasped the waistband of her panties. She worked them off over her rump and down her long legs. She let them skid to the floor and kicked them off, giving Hank only a flirty glimpse above her knees. She was all but ready, yet Hank was still fully clothed. Get naked, she was tempted to shout at him. Let me examine that big thing of pours, then let’s fuck!

“Is this a one-sided exhibition?” Mavis challenged, turning her back to Hank and shaking out of her skirt. She stood motionless for nearly a minute, letting him ogle her naked back and full buttocks. She worked the muscles, pinching the half moons of her ass firmly against the long, curving crease.

She didn’t want him from the rear this time; she wanted him between her spraddled thighs with her feet kicking high in the air so she could gobble all of his massive cock in her cunt mouth.

Mavis was aware of a warm stickiness between her legs as she crawled onto the sofa and lay down, careful to draw up her right leg to shield her shaved pussy from Hank’s lustful eyes. Jeez! How they burned with passion, the heat in them a match for the fire raging deep in her womb. “Get your clothes off, Hank!” She had almost forgotten, in her rising frenzy to be serviced and sated by his long stud-tool, that she was only doing this in order to try to trap the robber who had plugged her twat while she was helpless. God! She wanted cock in her snatch! She needed a vigorous sex-romp with male meat pounding long and smooth into her vag! Well, it wouldn’t take much time to inspect Hank’s hot, hard shaft for a wart then they would fuck!

“Hurry!” she panted, wiggling her fingers in his direction. She couldn’t keep her fanny from lurching in coital grinds on the sofa. It kept bouncing erratically as erotic flames leaped and seared her viscous swat. Her flanks heaved and her loins ached and her vagina clutched hungrily for a meal of fat cock. She smiled encouragingly as he stood and began undressing. In seconds, after she checked his tusk she would have him inside her pumping the prick to her, relieving the sensual tensions. God! She needed a cum!

“Hurry, fuck-partner,” she begged, “I want that huge prick in me! I want it fucked in deep!”

Mavis didn’t have to look down at herself to know that the puffy pussy lips were gaping in a slight smile and her vulva was like a greedy mouth waiting to devour Hank’s cock-sirloin. And — there it was! — he had plenty of it. Long! Thick! Hard as an oak branch! A wonderful fuck-tool!

She watched Hank approach, stiff-legged, his big bone wobbling from side to side as he walked. Then she reached with a trembling hand to tease his big nuts with the tips of her fingers. Tenderly, she seized his shaft near the hair-matted base and bent it toward her. She was tempted to suck him off, it looked so delicious! She slid the thick, tight skin back. She had milked down a lot of cocks and she knew she could make him cum by jacking him off — with only a few strokes. God! His shaft was rock-hard and hot as a poker! She didn’t want him to shoot his goodies under the goadings of her hand. She wanted him to hose his jizz into her sex-starved pussy!

She gripped it tight and studied the thick-skinned dong. There wasn’t a sign of a wart. He wasn’t the man who had screwed her during the robbery of Willie’s store. Well, she wasn’t going to be left empty-handed — empty-handed? She had a handful of magnificent pussy-pleaser and she was going to have this massive male member crammed into her snatch, hauled out and rammed back in and she was going to cum and cum and CUM!

“Okay,” she said huskily, shuffling on the sofa to make room for his spread knees between her parted thighs. “Let’s have fun! Come on, Hank, let’s fuck!”

As he positioned himself between her veed legs, knees against her tense ass, she seized his prick in both hands. “I’ll guide it in,” she panted, pressing the pear-shaped knob into her vulva, massaging the red inner lips, then aiming it against the fluttering opening to her ravenous snatch.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhh,” she whimpered with passionate anticipation as Hank slowly nudged his cockhead into her throbbing vagina. “Ooooooohhhhhhhhh, sooooooo goooooodddddd! Fucking is such ffffuuuunnnnn!” she dug her nails into his shoulders, leaving red tracings of her wantonness.

She jerked her fanny up and down and around to assist Hank as he slowly drove his shaft all of the way into her until his hairy balls bounced against her up-tilted butt. The pucker string of her anus felt like a burning ring of fire. “God! Fuck me, Hank. Fuck me hard and make me cum!” she begged.

Wham! Bang! After several slurpy, industrious pumps, Mavis felt she was about to shatter. His cock’s head slammed past the cervix, into the womb. There was the pungent aroma of male and female sex-heat thick in her narrowed nares as Hank fucked her faster and faster.

Sloosh! Sloosh! Sloosh!

His prick plunged in and out of her cunt.

“I’m cuunummmmiiiinnnng!”

A scream of rapture bounced off the walls and the ceiling as Hank pounded the cod into her and she humped her ass to meet his pistoning cock-thrusts. Spasms of erotic pleasure gripped her and her whole body felt like flowing lava.

She didn’t have the robber between her legs, but she had a master-fucker riding and bouncing and bucking in her fuck-saddle. And he really knew how to thud the meat to a girl.

“Fffffuuuucccckkkk mmeeee faster and deeeeppppeeeerrrr!”

She was like a shooting star and sparks of passion seemed to be exploding everywhere. She wouldn’t have cared less as she careened through her violent pleasure had she known that her husband and Miriam were parked in the Carr garage with the double door closed.

Phil was sipping raw scotch from a bottle as Miriam sucked him off, savoring his cock and giving him a sapping blow-job.

She was in the thrall of her fifth climax and Hank was gunning his jizz into her snatch as Miriam and Phil shifted into the back seat to fuck until their sex-heat steamed up the car windows.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mavis awoke with the sweet realization that she was naked atop the covers in hers and Phil’s bedroom. My husband, she thought, must haste carried me upstairs to bed. She stretched slowly, deliciously. Criminy! Hank Carr gave me a good fuck!

Her cunny still crawled and convulsed with the pleasure of having his huge cock socked into it.

With eyes still closed, Mavis caressed her firm titties and pinched the nipples. One thing, though, she frowned: Hank wasn’t the robber who had raped her. She reviewed the situation quickly. And it hadn’t been Willie Quentin. And she was positive it wasn’t Dell Emerson. Who? Her quest for the man with the tantalizing growth — or wart — on the side of his penis might never be fulfilled. She could fuck all the Mormons and Catholics in Utah and still not find him! What a helluva way to try to help her husband crack a robbery — bed all the men around!

Mavis stifled a giggle. What a delightful way to conduct an investigation… give all the suspects the third degree between her thighs, grilling them — and their peters — in her pussy!

She turned onto her side and opened her eyes slowly. She squinted and smiled broadly. Phil was lying on his hack beside her. He was blessed with a massive hard-on and his husky gonads were rolled high in their crinkled sac.

Delicately, Mavis raked a fingernail across the purplish head and restrained the desire to laugh as her hubby’s stomach muscles crawled and his erect penis trembled. Gentry, she jacked him off, just running the tip of an index finger over his thick shaft, working the tight, thick skin up and down.

Phil groaned; his ass bucked upward to meet her touch. “She sucked the whole thing,” Phil mumbled and a smile brightened his expression. “She ate and sucked and swallowed the whole thing.”

Mavis pouted, then frowned. He was talking about Miriam Carr. It was clear to her. Miriam had given Phil a blow-job — and it was still in his mind. She has to be a master at cock-sucking, Mavis thought, if the pleasure she gives a man will dominate his subconscious. Mavis raised on an elbow to study her husband. Phil had been sucked off and he, obviously, had liked the lips of a woman — Miriam — lapped around his dong slavering and licking and sucking!

“Christ!” Mavis whispered softly, “he still has lipstick all over his packer — and it’s matted in his cock hair and smeared all over his belly and balls.”

You bastard! she swore softly, taking hold of his long, hot shaft. She began to masturbate him in a determined manner and his body jerked rhythmically.

“Oooooohhhhh,” Phil mumbled. “She sucked and ate the whole thing.”

Mavis jacked him off with greater diligence, rising to use both hands on his prick. Faster and faster. If it hadn’t been for Miriam’s mouth paint all over her husband’s genitals, she would have been tempted to blow him herself! But she drew the line. She decided she would see if he had any jizz left in his reservoir…

“And he does…” she smirked as she felt the tensing in his pipe. She worked harder on his joint. “Shoot, you bastard! Shoot your cum all over yourself!”

She whipped her hands up and down on his cock and kept it up all the time Phil ejaculated thick spurts of sperm all over his belly, even up into his chest hair.

He awakened with a start and frowned as he realized that Mavis had jacked him off all over himself. Then he grinned as she scampered off the bed. “At least Miriam didn’t create a mess.” He swatted futilely at her naked butt.

“She may have sucked you off and you didn’t get cum all over everything,” Mavis corrected, “but she left you a mess — your club all painted up for war. I’ll make some coffee.”

“It wasn’t Hank, was it?” Phil called after her.

“He doesn’t have a wart on his dingus,” Mavis replied.

As Mavis was fixing breakfast, Phil received a telephone call. Over their third cups of coffee, he said, “I have to chase my ass over to Reno. That was my boss on the phone. And, according to him, I am more and more under suspicion in connection with the robbery here.”

His tone was mild, but his bitterness wasn’t concealed from Mavis. She saw his eyes briefly and the pain in them almost made her cry.

“Oh, how can they think you were mixed up in it? You weren’t even in the area.”

“But I was in the area,” Phil shook his head. “I can’t account for some five hours of my time even though I was here, at home, at the time the robbery occurred.”

Mavis turned away. More than ever, she wished she could strip away the mystery — that is, strip the robber, screw him, if necessary, and find the man with the wart on his peter.

She wished Phil didn’t have to leave, but realized that being busy, on an investigation, would be better for him than being idle, waiting for something to happen.

How, she wondered, could Willie and Hank be so blithe and carefree about the robbery? They just seemed to be so nonchalant about the whole thing. And her husband was the one who was catching all of the hell!

She was just kissing Phil good-bye when Terry Lewis drove up, obviously a little tight. The trim little pixie sauntered up, wearing hot pants and weaving her vixen body enticingly. “Mavis, do you know where Connie and Miriam are?”

Mavis suppressed a frown as she caught a brief glimpse of the way her husband peered at the diminutive, but very seductive little orangish blonde.

“No,” Mavis said, “I haven’t seen them.” She was tempted to tell her husband, Get the hell out of here, or fuck her right now, on the lawn!

It was indelibly in her mind, the wanton scenes of Terry Lewis. She was a fuck-kitten and, probably wouldn’t object to Phil’s stripping her down to the buff, slamming her down on her back or taking her on all fours. Terry fairly oozed sex; an aroma of fuck-fuck seemed to emanate from her every pore — not to mention her crotch orifice!

“I’ll call you when I arrive in Reno,” Phil grinned and Mavis frowned as he started the engine and backed slowly from the drive. Oh, you’ll fuck her later, huh? She waved goodbye until Phil turned the corner and was out of sight. Without even turning, Mavis was aware of Terry close behind her, could smell the sweet perfume of hot pussy. The very proximity of a vibrant, warm female primed for a sex domain whatever form — started Mavis’ sexual organs churning… the puffy lips of her pussy grew hot and her coital channel seethed with lustful anticipation. “Let’s go in the house,” Mavis said.

“And have a drink and take off our clothes and play fun games,” Terry tittered, falling in beside Mavis. As they entered the back door, Terry taunted, “I’ll bet you haven’t had a chance to get a sweet screw from your husband since he got home from Wyoming, have you? But, you’ve been getting some stiff dick, haven’t you?” Terry teased.

Mavis ignored the all-too-true analysis. As she mixed drinks in the kitchen, tried to keep her eyes from the great expanse of bare skin revealed by Terry’s scanty attire, she asked, “Whose car are you driving? That isn’t yours and Mickey’s.”

“Maybe not, maybe so,” Terry pouted. “It’s a T-Bird. I like it and I’ll have it.”

Mavis had never made many Singapore Slings, and the third pair of them didn’t go any faster. She merely frowned as Terry said, “I got something in the car,” and she ran through the house, her woman aroma wafting on the air. When her measurements proved faulty, Mavis tilted the bottles of straight booze into the glasses.

She wasn’t happy, but was, strangely, exultant about the delicious sensation of her pussy fairly steaming with anticipation of having sex-fun with Terry Lewis!

“Did you like the randying you got from Dell Emerson, Mavis?” Terry winked when she returned. “And how about Mr. Carr? And Mr. Quentin? And, how many others, Mavis?”

Mavis didn’t like the subtle, prying inquiry about — what Mavis interpreted — her life as a whore. “Did you like your trick with the boxer?” Mavis countered. “How about your being jumped and sex-banged by that dirty old Ben Glover?”

“Massive cock!” Terry grinned, drinking deeply. “Mean as hell — the way he fucks a girl!”

Mavis’ pulse quickened, but she recoiled mentally. She didn’t want Ben Glover’s insidious prick in her body. Yet, provocatively in her mind was the thought… does that lecherous old man have a wart on the side of his long pussy — pole? God! Would she have to fuck him to find out? To determine whether he might have or might not have been the robber who had fucked her during the night of the supermarket heist?

She shuddered with grim dread. Would she have to? Have to fuck him — take his sex joint into her canny? She wouldn’t ask Terry if she remembered whether or not the lustful man had a growth on his thing. Terry, being as drunk as she had been, probably couldn’t remember anything except Ben Glover’s rocking the cock to her.

Mavis felt her skin growing hot. Sleek muscles tensed under the silk dressing gown she wore as Terry’s lascivious eyes prowled over her. “Mick took some boys from the summer recreation program camping in the Wasatches and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon,” Terry said. And Mavis was aware of the lithe young girl’s shallow, almost passionate breathing.

And you want us to have a lesbian fling until then, Mavis thought. She wouldn’t meet the flashing, sensual invitation in Terry’s eyes. Maybe I should get Becky over and we can have a threesome — but she’s probably priming herself for another blast from Willie’s sex thunderstick.

Why not Dell Emerson? Mavis frowned; maybe it would be best to go along with Terry’s game and get their sex thrills from each other. Eventually, Mavis’ eyes were drawn to Terry’s nervous fingers that kept toying with the package wrapped in brown paper. The sexy gal seemed obsessed with opening it.

“What’s in the package?” Mavis queried softly.

“A toy that will beat the hell out of that gadget Miriam has!”

The sensual warmth that flooded through Mavis’ body made her even more keenly aware that she was absolutely naked under the dressing gown. Where there had been a faint dread and a wish that Terry would leave, there was now a hot, almost lewd anticipation taking its place. And Terry’s eyes were fastened to the loosening vee of the gown that revealed the deep valley between her feverish, pointing titties.

Terry’s faint, smirking smile told Mavis that her companion was cognizant of the passion that was clutching her loins, that passion juices were starting to steam in her undulating vagina. The craving for sex was almost painful. Mavis was tempted to demand to see what was in the package. She was already convinced, after Terry’s flat hint, that it was some kind of sex tool. Well, the way her pussy was crawling with need, she hoped it was a big one. Her deep well was like a starving mouth, eager to be crammed full of sex fare. She needed it! She just hoped that Terry was adept enough to girl-fuck her until she was satisfied.

Trying to control the tremulous tone of her voice Mavis asked slowly, “What’s in the package, Terry?”

Mavis wasn’t sure whether the hot film of moisture on her inner thighs, near her crotch, was from perspiration or was the sweet passion-hone from her vulva. God! How her labia and asshole itched!

“A double-dildo!” Terry exclaimed triumphantly.

Mavis frowned. Why doesn’t she unwrap it? She watched Terry stand, slowly remove her halter with the built-in bra cups. Mavis stared at the perfect cones of firm flesh. The nipples, surrounded by tight aureoles, were taut brown spikes tilting slightly toward the ceiling.

Her fingers itched to touch the smooth woman fruit untouched by the sun. They seemed frothy and confection-rich with little smooth berries on top of all that sweet whipped cream. Her mouth watered to savor Terry’s luscious breasts and to nibble those dainty nubs.

“Where do we romp, Mavis?” Terry asked, excitement building in her voice. “Take off your robe and let’s find a place to make girl-love!”

Mavis watched Terry float to her feet, breasts hardly quivering from the motion. The puffy eagerness of Terry’s pussy lips was a pronounced prominence in her hot pants. A proper name, Mavis thought, for those rape-inviting shorts… HOT pants! And Terry certainly has hot pants!

Well, her own box wasn’t exactly an igloo! Mavis whirled, letting the hem of her gown swirl to give Terry a quick look at flashing, creamy thighs, and led the way through the house and upstairs to her’s and Phil’s bedroom. Mavis shrugged out of her gown and tossed it atop a bureau of drawers. When she turned, Terry was skinning out of her hot pants. Eyes missed eyes — they were too busy exploring each other’s bodies. Desire fanned through Mavis as she marveled at Terry’s delectable nakedness. And Terry’s sex-glazed stare told Mavis hers was just as inviting.

Mavis stood perfectly still as Terry tossed her package on the bed and approached slowly, clutching her breast mounds near the base, pointing the swollen nipples at Mavis. Mavis’ breathing was shallow and hurried as she watched Terry rub first one nipple, then the other against her own. The gentle friction of Terry’s tittie-rubbing, plus the promise of tempestuous, illicit girl-sex seemed to kindle an intense fire all through Mavis. She hoped Terry would suck her pussy — and she would eat her in return. Slowly, Mavis reciprocated and grasped her own hot breasts, pointing them “in” so that her nipples mated with Terry’s hard, burning points in electrifying thrills.

They shuffled toward each other, crushing their tits together. As they twined their arms about each other’s naked bodies, Mavis felt the titillating tickle of Terry’s profuse pubic mat tickle her hairless Venus mound. Mavis caressed Terry’s lean, sleek back and shuddered with pleasure as her love-companion kneaded the firm, smooth buns of her fanny.

Mavis loved the contact of flesh against flesh, the gentle rasping of Terry’s pussy hair. Mavis hunched her rear end forward to increase the pressure of the fleshy sex mounds that formed a parapet to their cunnies. Her hands found and cupped Terry’s firm seat-buns as she shivered, loving the way Terry worked her fingers into the crack of her butt and probed for the tight, burning crinkle of her asshole! She almost wished that Terry would worm a finger into her anus and finger-fuck her bowels…

AND THERE IT COMES! Involuntarily, Mavis slid her feet apart, pushed her rump back slightly, relaxed her buttocks to take the demanding finger deep into her rectum.

“Aaaaagggghhhh!” she sighed raggedly, capturing Terry’s partly open mouth with her own. Terry responded by fucking her pelvis against Mavis and stabbing a hot, moist tongue into Mavis’ mouth and tickled her palate. “Aaaaaahhhhh,” Mavis sighed, wiggling her ass as Terry swizzled her finger around in her ass channel. Mavis wriggled harder, feeling pressure against her stinging clit by Terry’s sex mound.

Trembling, they wrestled frantically in each other’s arms for several minutes, on the threshold of orgasm, but not quite able to make it. Their boobies were welded together; their pubic regions were grinding; passion thrills danced in Mavis’ loins; Terry’s finger stirred a deeper carnal, animal pleasure deep in Mavis’ butt hole.

“Let’s get on the bed,” Terry moaned, “and we’ll sit in each other’s saddles and girl-fuck!”

Mavis didn’t want to break off the tantalizing contact, Terry had drawn her away out and orgasm was just a question of time, but she let Terry back away. “Get on the bed; on your back; put your hands under your hips; brace them up high.” Mavis was aware of a hot, gooey sweetness in her crotch. Lithe and athletic, Mavis had no trouble following directions. She felt a little silly with her legs straight up in the air, feet far apart, her hairless pussy exposed to her partner’s lascivious gaze. She wished Terry would hurry. She needed fucking! Through half-closed eyes, she watched Terry step up on the bed.

“Brace yourself firmly,” Terry panted with passion, positioning her right foot against Mavis’ upturned fanny and stepping through with her left foot, placing it near the base of Mavis’ left breast, between arm and ribs.

Mavis spread her legs wider, expanding the vee of her taut thighs. She tilted her head so she could watch Terry part the full, thick petals of her pussy. “That feeeels gooooood!” Mavis moaned as Terry massaged the clit with the tip of a finger and dived a finger deep into her hot, throbbing swat. “Ooooohhh!” she whimpered, her ass bumping and grinding to accentuate the pressure, wanting more and more in her cunt. “Heeeeaaaavvveeennnnly!” Mavis groaned. She rotated her rump, up-fucking her snatch against Terry’s educated hand.

She watched Terry’s other hand at work in her own crotch as the girl pressed her labia far apart so that the slick inner surface was fully exposed. And Terry was turning her own pussy blossom inside out.

Terry squatted slowly, her smooth, firm, rounded buttocks caressed Mavis’ inner right thigh; her pussy mesh, curly and rich, raked her left. Mavis thought she could feel the intense heat of Terry’s voracious young snatch as it sank closer and closer.

Then there was faint contact… then full pressure… and Mavis felt their searing pussies were welded together in ecstatic, erotic bond.

“Two women can screw pretty good,” Terry panted.

“What a delicious sensation,” Mavis murmured as Terry swabbed her bottom around, rubbing the hot slickness of their cunnies together. Mavis thought she could feel Terry’s hard clit needling against her own and up-bucked her ass and came quickly, sharply, almost painfully.

“Ooooohh, fuck me!” Mavis whined, reveling in having her snatch glued to another woman’s in wanton female intercourse. She looked up at Terry’s triumphant face, eyes half-closed, relishing her own orgasm. “I never realized two women could latch their pussies together and fuck sooooo goooooood!” Mavis choked with pleasure. Terry had both of her arms around Mavis’ stiff left leg for support and was girl-fucking like mad. The breath of passion whinnied through her narrowed nostrils as she fucked around and around rubbing her steaming, burning snatch against Mavis’.

“Oooooohh, ffffuuuuccckkk — fuck, FUCK!” Terry grunted, shaking her ass around and around, faster and faster. “I’m ready again!” Terry screamed, fucking faster. “Let’s cum together!” and she churned her crotch faster and harder against Mavis’ scorching sex orifice.

“I’m ccccuuuummmmiiinnnggg!” Mavis squalled, up-fucking her ass, suddenly shattered by sensual relief losing muscle control. She went limp, burning with pleasure as orgasm danced along every nerve. She was vaguely aware that Terry had collapsed toward the foot of the bed, their pussies still melted together.

Shortly, she was aware of the rustle of paper and knew that Terry must be unwrapping her double-dildo. It was such a heavenly pleasure, having her parted pussy lips kissed by another woman’s cunt mouth. Mavis didn’t protest as Terry crawled from contact. Her strength was returning after being buffeted by the erotic session of female coitus with the tempestuous Terry. She righted herself and crawled to see what Terry was doing.

She stifled a gasp as Terry withdrew the instrument from its wrappings. The color was that of a male, Caucasian. “Merciful gawd!” Mavis breathed, staring, wide-eyed. It was as if two well-hung men, with hard-ons, had run into a guillotine. And the full genitals of both had been united at the base. Two sets of hairy balls growing out of each other. And long phalluses pointing in opposite directions. Mavis noted, admiringly, that each shaft was at least nine inches long: the heads were gorgeous, enormous bulbs — and the thickness of the spears would make a heifer cough!

“Can we fuck each other with that?” Mavis inhaled slowly, gulping.

Terry giggled. “I think — hope — so. If we can, won’t it be a marvelous fuck?”

“How do we do it?” Mavis sighed, her pussy again spasming with eagerness. After all, she had just had a clitoral cum and needed a deep vaginal penetration to really set her off and satisfy her craving for prick.

They flopped over, lying side by side, face down with their knees drawn up under their heaving, naked tummies. Mavis watched Terry play with the artificial dong, take one knob into her mouth as if giving a man a blow-job. Mavis touched one set of the hairy balls and was amazed at how realistic they felt.

For a minute, they peered into each other’s eyes. Terry stopped sucking the cock and they kissed quickly, held the contact, tongues swizzling in each other’s mouths.

“I think I know,” Terry said, slipping away. “You stay where you are.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mavis giggled. “Not when there is the prospect of having my pussy fucked. And I want to try to take all of that wonderful prong in my snatch!”

“Be patient, passionate love,” Terry chortled, voice musical and happy behind her. “What a beautiful thing you are from behind. I just feel like licking your butt hole and tonguing your gorgeous pussy!”

“Don’t be bashful,” Mavis laughed, tossing her butt in little tantalizing circles, really wanting Terry to eat her pussy and asshole.

“Maybe later,” Terry chirped. “I’ll give you your half first, then take mine. We’ll go at it rear-to-rear.” Mavis quivered delicious pleasure as she felt one of Terry’s hands on her upraised buttocks. “Here it comes, love,” Terry murmured. Mavis braced herself as she felt the object swabbed in her wide rut. “That’s the hole,” Mavis sighed as Terry pressed the big knob against the vaginal entry.

“Betcha!” Terry agreed, cramming about two inches of it into Mavis’ sultry snatch.

“Aaaaahhhh!” Mavis purred, wincing slightly as the massive pole slid deeper and deeper into her feverish body.

“Here it comes, baby,” Terry said, “this should fill your snatch absolutely to the brim with make-believe cock!”

“Ggggooooodddd!” Mavis groaned.

“You have a cuntful!” Terry gloated and Mavis rotated her ass with pleasure as Terry fucked in and out of her a few times. “Hold your scrumptious snatch and butt still while I fill my greedy cunt with my half. This should be tops if there ain’t no man around!”

Bracing herself on the side of her head, Mavis watched Terry shuffle around. She worked a hand under her belly and grasped a set of balls, holding the tool steady until Terry was ready. She felt the sweet brush of buttocks against her own. She felt the tool jockeyed about slightly and Terry groaned, “Damn! It’s a big son of a bitch! I’m gonna take it all if it stretches my snatch all out of shape! Ah! In it goes! What a nice cock-feeling in my canny!”

As Terry continued working the huge shaft into her own body, Mavis could feel the fat pole jostling in her own swat, sending ripples of pleasure jerking through her body. Once Terry jumped and Mavis almost growled at her not to pull the tool out of her.

“When I finally get it all the way in me,” Terry panted, still laboring to sock the massive dong into her snatch, “we’ll hunch back and forth toward each other — we’ll back-fuck and really ball the jack.”

“I don’t know whom you’re talking about,” Mavis panted, “but I wish this jack were here and we’d really fuck his balls off!”

Instinctively, each clutched a set of artificial genitals and began manipulating their cunts around the dual post. It let them control the pace and depth of penetration; they liked it in deep, their ass cheeks rubbing. Terry’s pace was frantic; Mavis’ was more measured as she fucked her cunt on the thing in long, slow strokes. When they climaxed, they released the balls, tangled their fingers in their hair or beat the mattress with their fists and fucked their asses against each other as they exploded with sex pleasure deep in their loins.

“Wwwwwhhhhaaaatttt fffuuuucccckkkkin’!” Terry breathed raggedly as she and Mavis slowly emerged for their fifth cums.

Mavis wanted to get one more jolting climax. The big dong was sliding smoothly and easily into her greased, boiling snatch up to the simulated balls. “One more!” she howled, “and you can eat met! We’ll eat each other!”

But the telephone rang and they were interrupted for a few hours. Their frantic, passionate girl-fucking was over for a while.

Willie Quentin demanded that Mavis come down to the store. He emphasized that it was urgent!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Mavis freshened her body and dressed while Terry lay sprawled in the middle of the bed, the huge dong protruding from her snatch, one end still buried in her body.

“Mick isn’t going to like me having that T-Bird,” Terry frowned, “but I’m going to keep it, anyway!”

Mavis watched the little sex-pot slowly fucking the dildo in and out of her snatch.

“I should go down to the store with you and get a fast fuck from Willie,” Terry panted.

“I don’t think he’ll fuck anyone for a few days,” Mavis replied, remembering how Willie’s dong had been taped up just a few days before. And Becky would get his prick, if anyone did.

“What’s it all about?” Terry asked shakily, in the throes of a half-orgasm, slamming the big, artificial male-bone deeply into her swat.

Mavis frowned as she stared at Terry, feet kicking in the air, thighs flung wide as she masturbated herself with the dildo. For a second, Mavis wished she had the other half of the dong scrunched into her own pussy again.

“Probably something about the robbery,” Mavis muttered. “There’s booze in the kitchen and the den; help yourself. I’ll be back as soon as I can get back.”


At the store, Willie stopped her from taking the elevator to his office. “The investigator — Ben Glover — wants to interview you about the robbery. He’s somewhere in the storeroom.”

Mavis’ skin felt cold and scaly as that of a fish or a snake. She didn’t want anything to do with Ben Glover — especially not in the darkened stockroom! But she watched Willie take the elevator to his office and she entered through the swinging doors.

A match flared in the gloom, about ten feet away, and Mavis saw Ben Glover’s hawkish face reflected in the flickering flame. He exhaled smoke and shook out the match. “Come over here, Mrs. Moran — Mavis — baby — and tell me what you know about the robbery.”

Her guts twinged and she sensed her vaginal passage turning cold and dry. He was a fucking beast! Hesitantly, almost mesmerized, she approached, stopping within a couple of feet of where he lounged on a crate of fresh lettuce.

Somehow she knew — he — Ben Glover — was going to give it to her. He was going to fuck her. And her guts boiled and her whole sex tract felt as if it were being seared by fire. HE WAS GOING TO FUCK HER!

“Baby,” Glover said, easing forward on the crate and taking a pocket flashlight from his coat, “I think you know more about this robbery than you have told the cops.”

“No no, no, no!” she muttered, recoiling mentally, but not retreating from the tiny penlight that he kept on her face, moving it from one eye to the other.

The small light almost blinded her: she couldn’t see his face. But she felt his hand, rather, his finger and thumb as he tweaked one of her nipples. She wished she had worn a coarse, tight bra — instead of the filmy, lacy harness and matching bikini panties. It, probably, wouldn’t have made any difference. Ben Glover was going to screw her with his long, lascivious prick!

Glover kept her right nipple in pinched captivity. The light left her face and she was in total darkness. The penlight was stabbed into her left breast and Glover twisted it against the tumescent point that seemed to burn under the pressure.

She shivered as he traced the light down over her ribs, across her stomach to poke at her navel. “Aaaaaaahhhh,” she moaned, tormented and frightened.

The pressure of the small flashlight was increased on her belly button, starting nerves tingling deep in her rectum. Mavis stifled a gasp. God! It sparked wanton twitches all through her loins, into her inner thighs — all the way down into her toes.

He was going to fuck her!

And she sensed she wanted him to fuck her!

If he fucked her, she would know together he had a wart on his prick — if he were one of the robbers! The one who had raped her!

She couldn’t see. The light was dug into her belly. Yet her senses were alive. Glover’s breath was on her face. She could smell him. His odor wasn’t rancid, but was musky and virile. Her tummy crawled; she could almost feel his hard cock against her soft flesh!

She would not flick him back!

“Phil have a hand in it — baby?”

“Noooooo!”

“Come on, sweet cunt! Tell me what you know!”

His hand left her breast and mauled her right buttock, tugging her body toward him. A finger dug at her crotch — and she heard the hint of a skid of a zipper.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” she gasped.

The light left her navel — and a hand grabbed her by the butt, her skin crawling under his hand. “He was involved! Tell me what you know!”

“Noooottttthhhhiinnggggggg!” Mavis thought her voice fairly rang with denial in the dark storeroom.

“Show me and tell me what you did at THE time!” Glover demanded.

Mavis was glad to get out of his grasp — yet she knew she was going to get his sex trunk in her! She almost giggled with relief that he was no longer touching her. Her relief was short — a hand shucked up under her short dress and long fingers were cuddling the full, long, curvy loaves of her ass as she preceded him. And fingernails were finding the upper waist hem of her skivvies. He was going to strip off her panties and fuck her!

He hooked a nail and her panties were slipping off the saucy flirt of her upper buttocks. “Nnnnnoooo!” she protested as Glover pushed her into the deeper shadows of the stockroom.

“And you let the bandits in, huh?” Glover snorted.

THERE WAS THE SOUND OF A ZIPPER SKIIIIDDDDNNNNIING!

And Mavis could smell — more strongly than ever — the odor of prick! It was so strong it almost panted back at her! It was only a question of — not if — but when he would diddle her!

She was about to get a whole belly full of prick!

Her panties slid down around her ankles and her legs quaked. Glover heisted her skirt up over her back and dug a finger, doodled it around in the crack, and nudged the tense anal pucker.

Mavis wished her cunny would stop hungering for hard, long male meat!

“Phil had nothing to do with it!” she yelled as Glover pushed her over stacked cartons of vegetable juice, big cans.

One of his thumbs hooked her in the asshole and stabbed into her throbbing rectum. His left hand gripped her left thigh and her legs skidded apart; she hunched her rump back at him as she felt the cozy knob of his cock rake the smooth crown of her butt.

She was about to get him in her!

He was about to fuck her!

Mavis shook her head, desperate, helpless. She was about to get this terrible man’s dirty old cock! She wanted to run. But she was going to take him on. Her entire rear was exposed to his attack — and his hands had captured her heaving flanks — and the thick, dripping knob of his jobber was jabbed flush against the entry to her bowels!

Not in the asshole!

She sobered slightly as Glover sagged his knees for a more direct aim and planted the knob of his cock in her bloated vulva. Damn you! Mavis swore silently at her pussy, don’t look forward to getting his prick inside ME!

Mavis sensed his tensing, aiming his dong.

Here IT comes, she thought — braced herself for his forward onslaught. She moved her weight to the left when he missed and she knuckled his cockhead into her vulva.

“Dddddaaaammmmnnnn!” she complained as Glover buried his bone deep in her viscous swat, slamming the hard head against the curvature of the cervix and ramming to the very depths, stretching her coital cave.

“Daaammmnn you!” she shrieked, rearing her ass backward, trying to out-fuck his massive prick.

But he was pumping the meat into her snatch, rasping the lips of her outer pussy — and there was no wart!

There was no wart on his dong! He was not the robber-rapist!

Tears flooded into Mavis’ eyes. He was no help. She thrust her ass back to meet his forward hunch, fucking her like a mongrel dog.

“It’s all a waste!” she wept as she maneuvered to get all of her assailant’s prick. The knob banged against the bottom of her sex canal and she almost swooned from an overwhelming orgasm.

Mavis swung her ass wildly, slamming her taut rums loaves against his pelvic region as he poured the cock to her. She tightened her sphincters in revenge that she didn’t have the right one; she wouldn’t have minded taking the prick of the robber-rapist!

She rotated her fanny, shoved her exposed rear back again — unmindful of his long finger in her ass-hole. She lifted on tiptoes, trying to break off his prick in her pussy.

“Aaaaagggghhhh!” she wailed, trying to fuck him into nothing. But he was too much man. He started squirting his jizz into her; grabbed her by the ass cheeks, prying them apart; hauled his prick out of her pussy and shoved it roughly into her roiling bowels where he finished unloading his semen.

She was fearful he was going to make her suck him clean, but he left her there, skirt up over her butt, legs spread far apart for fucking, weeping in frustration, cunt and rectum well-hosed with cock juice…

After several minutes, after letting his male sap drizzle to the floor, Mavis adjusted her clothes and fled. All she could say, starting the old car, was that he wasn’t the one; he didn’t have a wart on the side of his prick. The fucking had been for nothing.

Mavis was glad, for the first time, she had no cunny carpet. His jizz didn’t cling and clot in pussy hair. “Ha-ha-ha-ha!” she laughed, almost hysterically.

She wept all the way home. She was glad that Terry was in the kitchen, drinking vodka over ice. “Ben Glover thinks Phil is involved in the robbery!” Mavis sobbed, taking the glass of ice and vodka that Terry pushed toward her as she slumped into the breakfast nook.

“He screwed you!” Terry shouted — and Mavis detected a tone of frenetic anger. “That bastard! Fucking you! Trying to push that robbery onto you and Phil!”

“Come home, Phil!”

A little later, she let Terry undress her, lead her upstairs and bathe her in soothing hot water. Then they returned to the kitchen and drank in half-brooding silence. The booze relaxed Mavis and she grew drowsy. Vaguely, sometime during the evening, Mavis was aware of Terry coasting her back upstairs and putting her to bed. Before drifting into deep sleep, she snuggled against the kittenish softness and warmth of Terry, thinking how nice it was to have someone in bed with her.

Sleep endured until nearly two o’clock the next afternoon, until it was dispelled by the insistent front door chimes. Clumsily, Mavis crawled from bed and struggled into a dressing gown. She left Terry asleep in the bed as she hurried downstairs to answer the front-door.

She stared stupidly at Mickey Lewis whose mouth was pursed in a grim line. “Is Terry here?” he asked curtly. “I see the car she was driving is out front.”

Mavis nodded, glancing at the sleek, powerful Thunderbird. It was a pretty thing she admired. Even the colors of the Utah license plates harmonized with the color of the car; so often they clash.

“She stayed all night with me,” Mavis yawned. “Come in, Mickey; I’ll make some coffee and call her. God! We must have slept fourteen hours!”

Mavis left Mickey sitting impatiently in the living room as she went to start coffee percolating. She was aware of his eyes on her body as she strode back through the living room, flimsy gown fluttering about her thighs as she went to waken Terry.

She found Mick’s wife half-awake, stretching and yawning. “Mickey is here,” Mavis told the naked doll.

“Oh? Is he back already? How did he know where I am?”

“He said he saw the car you’re driving,” Mavis replied, heading back downstairs.

“She’s dressing,” Mavis told Mick whose piercing gaze stabbed at the loose vee of the gown and traveled downward, lingering for a moment on the pubic region, then dropping to her knees and generous length of tapering thighs. “The coffee should be done,” she murmured, going to the kitchen and returning with pot, cups and saucers, cream and sugar.

As she and Mick sipped coffee, waiting for Terry to join them, Mavis wished he wouldn’t stare at her that way! His intense gaze almost made her flesh crawl. And he made no effort to conceal his interest in peeling off her gown, putting his hands on her and having his way with her.

She would have liked to recross her legs, but she didn’t want to give Mick that momentary view up her inner thighs toward the sensuous place he coveted. Damn! His eyes gave her chills and hot flushes that tingled deep in her womb and danced outward through her loins.

When Terry joined them, Mickey demanded, “What are you doing with that car?” His tone was flat, cold with anger.

“I want it and I’m going to have it,” his wife said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

A brittle silence lasted several minutes and Mavis thought she could almost see Mickey’s thought processes in action. Terry was defiant, yet there was an air of flightiness in her demeanor. Mavis had no doubt that Mickey would have his way. He was studying his next move; in a moment, she thought, he will lay down the law to his young wife.

“Tomorrow, you’ll take that car back to Ely, Nevada; arrange to store it for your brother; take the bus back here,” Mickey said flatly.

Mavis frowned slightly: why had Mickey over-stressed certain words? Back to Nevada… your brother… It was almost like some kind of code that husbands and wives often use; it tells the outsider nothing, but has very clear meaning for the married couple.

“Let’s have some brandy in our coffee,” Terry said, glancing at Mavis questioningly. “I want the car, Mick,” Terry almost begged as Mavis went to get a bottle of brandy.

“You — will — take — it — back — to — Nevada tomorrow,” he snapped.

Something clicked in Mavis’ mind as she returned. Back to Nevada? Why… it has Utah plates! Whatever was Mickey talking about?

“I’ll take it back,” Terry acquiesced numbly. And Mavis noted she had put the same stress on the word. “Tomorrow, as you say.”

“Good!” Mickey grinned. Now that the issue about the car was settled, the grimness left his face, replaced with a bright, easy smile and laughing eyes.

Mavis was uncomfortably aware that Mick’s eyes again were undressing her. And his stare wasn’t lost on Terry. What he had in mind, if given the opportunity, was clearly spelled out by the huge lump in the crotch of his trousers. He was a dirty dog with a big bone and he wanted to bury it deep in Mavis’ flower bed!

He asked to use the telephone and made no effort to shield the massive tenting of his swollen pecker from hers and Terry’s eyes. Returning, he flopped onto the sofa, stretching his long legs out before him and said, “My party was out for a little while; I gave your number, Mavis. Is that all right, if he calls back here?”

She nodded numbly.

Mickey grinned and waved his cup toward his wife. “I think you better take that car home and put it in the garage — where it will be safe — until you leave for Ely tomorrow. It worries me, being responsible for other people’s property.”

Nooooo! Mavis recoiled mentally. She could sense an insidious plot developing. And the narrowing of Terry’s eyes told her it wasn’t just imagination, either. It was quite plain that Mick had devised a way to be left alone with her! He wanted to fuck her — and he would have his wife out of the way. Terry would be at home and Mickey would be here, waiting for a phone call that would never come! He could take all of the time he needed to seduce her. This tall young man was going to fuck her and Mavis felt helpless to prevent it!

Mavis wished she hadn’t drunk the brandy, felt she needed a clear head to cope with whatever lay ahead of her. Hell! she knew what lay ahead of her! Mickey Lewis was going to lay her!

She wanted to plead with Terry to stay, but she was gone before the words would form. And Mickey was sitting across the room from her — and the male bulge in his pants was getting huskier all the time. He seemed to taunt her, gently scratching the curved material over his balls with a fingernail.

“You want it, don’t you, Mavis?” Mickey asked suddenly, his fingers idly stroking his penis and gonads through his clothes.

“Whhhaaaatttt?” Mavis stammered. The blunt, verbal approach had always dismayed her. She thought she much preferred straight physical jousting — the way Hank and Ben had gotten to her.

“You want some of this, don’t you, Mavis?” Mick persisted, goading his sex business to even greater dimensions with his left hand.

Mavis felt even more vulnerable than ever, wearing nothing but the thin wrapper. She was dully aware that she was so disturbed she had been unmindful of her lone garment; it sagged open dangerously, revealing the deep cleavage between her breasts. And his gaze made her tits tingle! The folds had fallen away below the waist, exposing lengths of creamy thighs. She glanced down quickly and held her breath. Mickey could see almost all the way to her shaven crotch. She was ripe for the taking!

“Well, you want it and you’re going to get it, baby!” Mickey chuckled hoarsely. “I’m going to fuck you good, Mavis! We are going to have a real hot, lively sex party. I’m going to fuck your sweet twat full of big meat and dump a whole load of sex rocks in your quarry!”

Mavis gasped silently. “No, no, no, NO!” she blurted.

“Yep!” Mickey laughed, rising and stripping to the waist and taking off his shoes and socks. “You want it from behind; me on top; or you top-riding? Me, I like to fuck in all positions! Which way do you like to fuck best?”

Mavis’ vagina contracted and she fretted that she wouldn’t be able to take the monstrous cock that was so clearly outlined in Mickey Lewis’ pants. It was huge! Maybe she could absorb him all right if she were receptive to having him plow his big dong into her cunt. But she felt all shrunken tight inside.

“Let’s fuck, baby!” Mickey declared, striding up to her, taking her left arm and tugging her out of the chair.

“Pppplllleeeeaaaasssseee!” Mavis begged. But she didn’t resist him as he pulled away the only flimsy garment that covered her nakedness. There was no doubt about it; he was going to screw her!

“Nice body; fancy tits!” Mickey breathed, pinching one taut nipple and raking his tongue across the other. He sucked the hard spire into his mouth and chewed roughly. The sharp tingles seemed to explode like needle jabs in her anus, her pussy and her navel.

His right hand went around her, caressed the smooth small of her back and fondled the tense buns of her fanny. She wondered how long he would toy with her, maul her, before he got down to the business of flopping her down and fucking her. It was almost degrading and humiliating, standing there tolerating his lecherous hands on her skin, his mouth sucking her nipple, fingers kneading her flesh.

Resigned to his sexual manipulation, she wished that he would hurry, give it to her, fuck her until he was finished and get out! A big hand was on her right flank, the fingers dived between her crimped thighs, forcing them apart and caressing her hairless mound.

Mavis shuddered involuntarily as Mickey worked a finger into her groove and rubbed the tender clitoris. “Aaaaaashhhh!” she sighed, unable to keep her feet from drifting apart to give him free play in her crotch. Nerves jumped and tingled in her inner thighs. “Eeeeeeeiiiii!” she screeched as Mickey stabbed a finger into the snug orifice. He laughed with satisfaction around the nipple as he sucked with his wet mouth. He was going to arouse her in spite of her disgust toward him. She knew he would have no trouble laying her out and fucking her. Her misery was multiplied as she began to realize that he was going to make her want his cock in her cunt! Like a brazen animal in heat! Hungry for his prick!

She told herself she, really, didn’t want to be fucked by Mickey Lewis! But he was stirring up her passions and her body was being tuned up for a tumultuous sessions of sexual carnage!

“Let’s get with it, Mavis-baby,” Mickey breathed, his hands all over her nude body. “Let’s fuck!”

She seemed aflame with wanton desire. She trembled weakly as he stepped back from her. “Where do you want me?” she asked huskily, eyes half-closed. “Do you want to fuck me on the floor? On the sofa? Or would you rather we screw upstairs on the bed?”

He had sparked a fire in her and her vagina was seething like a boiling cauldron.

“Let’s fuck on the floor,” Mickey wheezed, undressing. “Lie down on the floor — let’s screw there.”

Obediently, Mavis glided to the floor, knowing that his eyes were on her bare rear end. She stretched out prone on her back, eyes half-closed. “Do you want to fuck me topside or dog-fashion?” she asked, holding her legs tightly together against her pussy.

She wanted it!

“You can fuck me any way you want to,” she whined softly. She felt she could hardly wait for Mickey to push her thighs apart and crawl on her. She was aching — craving — for his meat spear deep in her snatch. “Give it to me,” she whimpered. “Fuck me deep!”

She got a brief glimpse of his mammoth instrument as he parted her knees and settled between her thighs. Instantly, her legs fanned wide and her feet kicked high into the air. Mickey pushed her feet far back toward her head and she grabbed her toes. Her sex saddle was flattened out for his body, rich hairless pussy tilted upward to take his thick, hard meat.

“Plunge the prick to me!” Mavis begged, her body twisting with sexual gluttony, wanting him to hurry, poke his cock into her throbbing swat.

She quivered with anticipation as Mickey dipped the hot, fat glans into her passion-slicked furrow. She sighed with ecstasy as the smooth head slid over her swollen clit. “In me!” she pleaded. “Fuck it into me!”

Mavis wiggled her ass around, trying to get him to locate the blunt tip against her ravenous opening. “Aaaahhh, there!” she wailed softly as Mickey planted the head of his prick against the entry to her vagina. “Oooooohhhh!” she sighed as he thrust forward, popping the thick head of his pecker inside her body.

“Fuck it in deep!” she pleaded, waggling her fanny up at him, attempting to lever her body to capture his sex plunger. “Leeeetttt’s fuck,” she wheedled.

“Yeeeeeaaaahhhhh, baby!” Mickey murmured and his cock began sliding slowly into her cunt, deeper and deeper, stretching her channel. “You got a hot pussy!”

Mavis knew she had all of his cock in her because she could feel the heavy weight of his balls against her flattened, upturned rump and his hairy groin was ground against her smooth, hairless pussy-pillow. “Let it soak in my cooze a minute; then fuck me!”

She loved the deep penetration, the way he kind of rotated his ass, grinding his groin against her, prying his massive prick around and around in her snatch as if he were trying to ream out her sex cove. She felt that the hot, juiced lips of her pussy were vulcanized around the base of his pulsating shaft that he was feeding into her in little short jabs.

“Oooooohhhh… God!” she gasped with erotic pleasure so intense she thought she was about to explode. “Come on, honey, fuck it to me! Give me all of your marvelous cock in big plunges! I need fuckin’, lots of fuckin’ with your wonderful prick. Shove the meat to my cunt, Mickey-baby!”

She held her breath as he slowly snaked his pecker out of her. “Here it comes, Mavis,” Mickey grunted in her ear, a hand mauling one of her ripe, tender tits.

“Yes! Yes!” she moaned. “Ram the prick to me! Make my pussy smoke!”

Then he gave it to her, in a long steady stroke, penetrating her pussy to the full length of his sex bone. His big coconuts full of sex goodies plopped warmly against her gyrating bottom. Mavis loved his cock buried deep in her body; loved the warm musky odor of hard pecker blended with hot pussy.

“Fuck me fast,” she begged, squirreling her ass around, making her twat gobble his thick cock-sausage. He backed his prick out of her cunt and slammed it deep. Mavis reeled into a delicious cum, loving the aroma, the faint, squish-squish of thick cock plowing into her seething sex well.

Her pussy was a boiling liquid fire as Mickey plundered her body, driving his wonderful tusk deep into her sensitive, ravenous orifice. She knew he was about to cum; his plunges were faster and erratic. She could feel the pulsations in his shaft as her sphincter muscles seemed to twine around his massive meat. “Aaaaaaggggghhh!” he cried, slamming the prick to her and grinding his belly against hers. She was thrust into another violent orgasm as Mickey began jizzing the daylights out of her. “Ooooohhhhh, sooooo good!” she purred as he continued to flood her snatch with hit thick love honey. She loved the way he gave the farthest wall of her cunt little pokes with the squirting head of his prick.

Suddenly, as her intense, erotic pleasure began to subside, she felt something else. It was a tingly scratching sensation. Mavis sobered slightly — and she knew. She relaxed, let her heels rest on the small of his back. She worked a hand between their sweaty bodies so she could use it and her sphincters to milk all of his sex juice into her cunt. She squeezed his cock at the hairy base. She wanted to feel it as he withdrew. She was certain, but she wanted to verify it with her fingers.

“That was a real good, hot fuck,” Mavis kissed him on the parted lips, felt his tongue in her mouth, his panting breath of passion ebbing. “A really dandy fuck.”

She would have liked for him to leave his cock buried in her cunt, it felt so good. But she wanted to have his big, slick meat in her hand. She would suck it, if she had to. She held her breath as he eased his tusk out of her body.

Yes! YES! There it was!

She spread her legs wide as he crawled backward so that his face was between her thighs. She smiled smugly as she lay there, letting him tongue the cum out of her pussy. She had found the man.

Mickey Lewis had a wart on the side of his pecker…

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

After Mickey departed, pleased with his sexual conquest, Mavis prowled impatiently through the house. That smug, self-satisfied expression would be erased from his face in a hurry, she thought, after she told Phil that she had found the robber-rapist.

Finally, about dark, she settled down in the living room, sipping a tall scotch and water and watching television. She hadn’t liked the brutal screwing he had given her during the robbery, but she acknowledged that when there was no one else around, there was no possible peril, Mickey Lewis could really fuck a girl and give her a whole bagful of jollies.

Well, Mickey had betrayed himself, having to have another piece of tail. The wart on his dingus had given him away. She had had her cock and cunny fun — and Mick was going to get what was coming to him. Mavis wished she could talk to Phil, but she didn’t know how she could reach him. But, hadn’t he said he would call? She frowned; he had said after he got squared away. When would that be? Tomorrow? She would just have to wait. Who, she mused, was involved in the robbery with Mickey? She just couldn’t believe Hank or Willie — certainly not her husband, Phil — were in cahoots with Mick.

She had a hunch that Terry could shed a lot of light on the crime that had Phil under such deep suspicion. She was almost tempted to call the little sexpot and have her come over, but she doubted that Mickey would allow it.

She would just have to wait.

Mavis was so anxious to have the whole affair settled, she felt that every nerve in her body was sparking. Intuitively, she sensed that when it was all over, she no longer would be a sex captive of hers and Phil’s acquaintances. That would be a good feeling! Maybe she would confess to her husband that she had been a prostitute for a while; she didn’t know how he would react, but if that terrible secret were wiped out from her mind, she would feel relief and a peaceful sensation of liberation. Somehow, she felt her husband would forgive her that sordid chapter in her life.

The telephone rang sharply and Mavis almost screamed. It took nearly a minute for her to compose herself and lift the receiver. “Heeeelllloooo?” she said, voice just above a whisper.

“This is Phil, baby. I’m at a place called Battle Mountain, Nevada. I’ll stay the night and head home in the morning. I got to Winnemucca and the Nevada state police stopped me; my boss asked their help in stopping me and telling me to telephone him. The Nevada case has been solved and I’m turning around, coming home. I’ll be there before dark tomorrow.”

Mavis was so intensely happy she couldn’t reply for several seconds. Then she blurted, “Honey, I know who the robber-rapist is!”

“Gggrrrreeeeeaaaatttt!” Phil exclaimed. “Tell me.”

Quickly, Mavis told him about her seduction by Mickey Lewis, finding the wart on his dong. “And I have a feeling that Terry bought this fancy T-Bird with some of the robbery money.”

She told Phil about Mickey’s ordering Terry to take the car to Ely, Nevada, store it for her brother. “It isn’t a Nevada car, honey,” she said, “it has Utah license plates.”

“If I had the plate numbers,” Phil said, “I would have the ownership traced through the Utah vehicle bureau.”

“I don’t have or know them, honey,” Mavis frowned. Then a bold thought crackled into her mind. “Phil, what if I could persuade Terry to let me go with her to Ely? You could meet us there — give us a ride home so we wouldn’t have to take the bus? While we are in Nevada, maybe you could get all of the truth out of her?”

After a short pause, Phil replied, “Okay. Sounds good. How will I find you in Ely?”

“If I can get Terry to take me along — I don’t think she’ll be against the idea — I’ll be sure we register at a good motel. You just start calling motels until you find your oversexed wife!”

“Great, honey! I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

After Phil hung up, Mavis looked up the Lewis’ number and dialed. She didn’t have to sell Terry on the plan; she jumped at it.

“I was just dreading that drive,” Terry said happily.

“And I feel the need to get away from Salt Lake and the house for a while,” Mavis bubbled. “And it is so convenient for us — with Phil coming home. He said he won’t mind a bit, the extra miles he will have to drive to pick us up.”


They were on their way by six the next morning and arrived at their Nevada destination in plenty of time to find a motel and look around town, if they wished. Mavis’ smug satisfaction received a big boost on the road. While taking a turn at the wheel, letting Terry nap, she found the registration on the sun visor. It was Terry’s car!

As they cruised through town, Mavis spotted Phil’s Buick parked on a side street, around the corner from a hotel. Apparently, he arrived before they had. “Let’s find a motel and get settled,” Terry said. “You can grab a little rest while I find a place to store my — the car. What time do you expect Phil?”

Mavis shrugged. “He’ll call motels until he locates us.”

As soon as they were in a motel, Mavis stripped down to bra and panties and collapsed on one of the two double beds. Terry’s eyes turned sex-greedy as she stared at Mavis and winked.

“If we thought your hubby would be getting in late,” Terry said, “we could prowl the town and pick us up a couple of well-hung studs for some hot yum-yum fun!”

Mavis smiled back. “I don’t think I want Phil to catch me — or us — with a couple of stallions wearing our saddles.”

“Probably right,” Terry nodded, taking three bottles of liquor from one of her suitcases and setting them on a dresser.

Mavis watched her find a couple of glasses, strip off the cellophane and mix a couple of drinks of whiskey and water. “Anyway,” Terry said, “I brought my double-dong along and we can have a romp with it.”

Mavis cramped her naked thighs together against the pleasurable clutching the thought of the dildo aroused in her loins. “If you need a little sexing,” Mavis said softly, “maybe I’ll let Phil give you a little fucking when he arrives. He has a very masterful prong and really knows how to make a girl’s twatty smoke.”

“Wheeeeee!” Terry breathed, whirling about the room. “I don’t know how I’d react, getting diddled while the man’s wife watched.”

“Nothing like finding out,” Mavis laughed as Terry pranced out the door. “Don’t pick up a stud; come straight back!”

“Right on!” Terry called as she slammed the door.

Phil called about ten minutes after Terry left the motel. “I saw Terry drive by the hotel where I’m camped out,” Phil said.

“I saw your car when we drove through town,” Mavis said. “She wants a little fucking!” she laughed.

“And I’m a stud-service candidate?” he said.

“I figure you might be able to put the screws on her — I mean screw the truth out of her,” Mavis bantered.

“Where will you be while I’m giving her the third degree and jacking my handle into her canny?”

“Right here, honey, witnessing every word, guiding your prick and holding your wonderful balls up out of the hot sand.”

“Hot sand? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t want your balls getting scorched in hot desert sand, do you? I’ll hold them for you while you fuck the robbery truth out of little Terry.”

“If you insist on being present while I fuck the little wench, just let my balls dangle,” Phil said with mock solemnity. “Get her a little tight, if you can.”

“I have a feeling that won’t be any trouble,” Mavis replied. “I just hope she doesn’t pick up some clown to give her a breeding before you have a chance to get at her greedy snatch.”

“Well, I’m going to park on a side street and stake out your motel from across and down the block. I’ll wander in about an hour after she gets back.”

When Terry returned, it was obvious she had sampled the liquid wares of at least one of Ely’s clubs. She was half-loaded, happy — and her sex appetite was at an end-of-Lent intensity. Mavis fairly grinned appreciatively as she watched the sexy doll strip out of her clothes and parade about the room, showing off her saucy breasts, curvy fanny, flat tummy and scratching the coarse floss that adorned the inviting mound that crowned her pussy.

As they sipped whiskey and water, Terry wheedled, “Let’s get out the double-dong and fuck each other, Mavis?”

“Not right now,” Mavis demurred. “Phil called from up the road and will be here pretty soon.”

“How soon?” Terry pressed. And Mavis studied the narrowing of her nostrils, the fire in her eyes and the way she fanned her silky thighs in and out, pressing them against her sex trove.

“Oh pretty soon,” Mavis evaded. “Maybe you should put on something.”

“Why?” Terry pouted. “If you aren’t going to back out and let him screw me, why shouldn’t I be all ready for a jump in the sack?”

“You don’t want to seem too eager,” Mavis countered. “You don’t want to startle him.”

“Do you think — if he comes in and sees me all naked and ready to fuck — I might scare him?” Terry giggled a little tightly.

Mavis shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think it might be better if you weren’t naked, were wearing something — kind of teasing him into the idea of punching your pussy…”

She nodded with approval as Terry gulped the remainder of her drink and found a loose-fitting sunsuit in a suitcase. “I think it’s a big waste of time, putting on clothes, when you know all along you’re going to get a fucking!”

Mavis was surprised — maybe it was the liquor — but she didn’t experience any mental qualms as they talked about her husband and his diddling Terry. She, actually, was looking forward to seeing Phil thud his prick into the dainty Terry’s quim.

When Phil knocked and she let him in, Mavis frowned slightly. No, a naked Terry wouldn’t have scared him off. His pants were tented with a swollen cock and ready testes. He came ready to fuck.

“Bring in your luggage, honey, and stay the night,” Mavis said.

“Rrrrrrriiiiigggggghhthhhttttt!” Terry echoed.

Phil grinned, then returned to his car to get a large suitcase and a leather-cased object Mavis knew was a cassette tape recorder.

She fixed him a drink, turned and saw him staring at Terry’s scantily clad body — and Terry had already discovered that Phil was sporting more than half a hard-on.

“How was your trip?” the three of them said, almost in unison.

“No problem, sweat, okay,” they chimed, then smiled sheepishly, awkwardly.

There was no doubt about Terry’s eagerness to have thick, hard cock chunked into her snatch. Her eyes were glazed with the animal message — Fuck me! And Mavis could smell the sweet aroma of her cunt.

Calculatingly, Mavis took the initiative. “Phil, don’t cream in your shorts! Terry wants to be screwed, so why don’t you two strip and diddle?”

You little bitch! Mavis frowned as Terry lurched to her feet and shrugged out of her sunsuit. Phil laughed and caressed his swollen genitals through his pants with the bottom of his frosty glass.

“Where do you want to give it to me, Phil? Where do you want to fuck me?”

Mavis frowned. About the same question she had asked Mickey after he had gotten her aroused.

“Not in the butt hole,” Phil laughed, “in the middle of a bed.”

“That’s what I meant!” Terry snapped, hurling herself onto a bed, flopping onto her back and making a sex saddle of her thighs, knees far up, feet dangling in the air. Mavis stared at her inviting, hairy crotch, pinkish inner labia glistening with passion-moisture, opening to her vaginal fluttering. Terry’s voice turned pleading, “You can cornhole me, if you want to; but fuck me in the canny, too!”

“Give it to her, Phil! Fill her snatch with prick and fuck her!” Mavis urged, desire fluttering through her as she anticipated watching her husband ream the young woman’s vag with his massive tool.

“Hurrrrry and fuuuuuucccccccccckkkk meeeeeee!” Terry wailed, waggling her fingers and her fanny at him, begging plaintively.

Mavis sat perfectly still as her husband stood, set his glass aside and undressed slowly. Terry gasped and Mavis felt slightly jealous as Phil’s massive tool was uncurled from his clothes and his phallus stiffened and lengthened and thickened. She would like to have his dick in her — but he was going to fuck it into Terry Lewis!

And she was going to watch her husband fuck the little hot-pussied hussy!

Phil seemed to ignore her as he crossed the room and eased onto the bed, worked his own naked body between Terry’s inviting thighs, shuffled forward, his cock waggling, toward the woman’s sex treasure.

In a minute, Mavis fretted, yet was filled with anticipation, her husband would be screwing another woman — right before her eyes. There was a lecherous expectancy. She wanted to see Phil drive his cock into Terry’s cunt, stretch that marvelous vulva out of shape and fuck his mammoth meat deep into her fragile body.

Mavis leaned forward to see clearly as Phil hovered over Terry, his lips and teeth finding a breast berry. “Aaaaaaahhhh!” Terry whimpered, reaching to find Phil’s throbbing prick, trying to pull it into her steamy swat.

Phil closed the distance between their pubic regions until the huge, glistening head of his cock soaked in her hot groove. “You want it, Terry? You want a good fuckin’? Give me the cassette, Mavis,” he said all in one breath.

Mavis lurched to her feet and placed the instrument near the head of the bed, near her husband’s right hand. She stood for a moment as he opened the case, pointed microphone toward Terry’s face.

“Yeeeessss! Fuck me, Phil!”

He flipped the switch and Mavis watched the reels move. Then she returned to her seat.

Phil moved over Terry’s uptilted bottom, let her work the huge pear-shaped head just inside her vag.

“Yes! Fuck me!”

Phil let the head of his cock soak, just inside her wiggling body. “Tell me what you know about the robbery of the store that Willie manages,” Phil urged softly, giving Terry’s twat little jabs with just the knob of his dong.

“Please fuck me, Phil?”

“We know that Mick was one of the robbers. Tell me about the robbery.”

He plunged a couple of inches of hard prick into her snatch. “Tell me!”

“Ffffuuuucccckkkkmmmeeeeee!” Terry begged, trying to up-hunch her ass to get his spear in her.

Phil gave her a couple of fast cock-thrusts. “Tell me.”

He rammed the remaining seven inches of his sex sausage into her.

“Fuck me!” Terry squalled as Phil withdrew his prick. “It was a clever setup. Mick? Yes! He was one! He raped Mavis! The beating Willie got was part of the plan — he’s involved — to throw off suspicion.”

Mavis watched her husband plow his rock-hard cock back into Terry’s ravenous snatch. “Hank was against it — but he went along with the guys.”

She was panting with passion and starving hunger for more of Phil’s sex pole. He gave her several long, fast pistonings — she farted loudly as he hit bottom with the thick point of his prick.

“Ben Glover was the mastermind,” Terry snorted as Phil fucked the cock into her. “He cased the whole job — with Willie’s help on timing of the guards and the van. Hank helped steer the SLC police away from suspecting them.”

Mavis watched her husband clutch Terry’s heaving flanks with both hands and pump the prick into her furiously. “Where is all of the money?”

“They split it up. It’s hidden in everybody’s houses! Oooooahhhh! Fuck me, Phil!”

Terry had her toes in her hands, feet hauled back parallel with her ears, legs flung wide, taking every last inch of Phil’s sex meat that he was drumming into her.

Mavis knew when Terry was exploded into violent orgasm. She screamed like an Indian on the warpath. Her lust was unbelievable as she tossed her bare, sweaty ass up at Phil to meet his inward plunge. She kept cumming as Phil buried his dong deep and began shooting the jizz into her sex-soddened cunt.

Even after Phil extracted his long, thick prick from her snatch and went to shower, Terry lay there in the middle of the bed with her thighs spread wide, plundered pussy an almost obscene invitation for more fucking.

The solution of the crime had been almost too easy, Mavis thought, once the vital key was found. All it took was finding the man with the wart on the side of his sex root. She wondered how long the case would be dragged out; she hoped that she and Phil wouldn’t be involved for a long period of time.

She frowned at the naked Terry, at the thick lips of her pussy that smiled leeringly, at Phil’s thick, pearly sex cream that oozed from her vag and trickled into the crack of her ass.

Mavis shrugged and rose to mix her and Phil another drink. “We’ll go home in the morning,” she murmured, studying herself in the mirror above the dresser, satisfied with her trim figure that was amply revealed by the scanty panties and bra. “Then Phil can get the ball rolling with the police and insurance company.”

She accepted her husband’s ardent kiss when he merged naked from the shower. “Why don’t you help Terry to a shower,” he said, “later, I have some more questions I want to put to her.”

“Why is a shower important?” Mavis pouted.

She frowned at Phil’s wide grin.

“I am to use my exclamation point on her again and I want a nice, clean, perfumy sentence to punctuate.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

During the night, in the still darkness of the motel, Mavis heard her husband working on the passionate Terry. The sodden sound of big cock thudding into female flesh was loud in the room. The earthy odor of male and female sex pervaded the close air.

“Where have the men hidden the money, Terry?” she heard Phil pant as he slammed his prick into the whimpering Terry’s cunt.

“In-in-in their homes. I don’t know — oh, fuck me! God, you fuck a girl good!”

“Where in their houses, Terry?” Phil persisted and Mavis thought she could actually hear the head of her husband’s cock banging against the bottom of Terry’s sex well. “Where did Mickey hide his share of the money?”

Squish-squish! Squish-squish!

Mavis could visualize Phil’s long post sliding in and out of Terry’s elastic hole in prodigious strokes.

Plop-plop; plop-plop.

He was really banging her tail, Mavis thought. That is the sound of his balls slap-slapping against her upturned bottom end.

“… in the attic of the garage…” Terry groaned. “Oh, please! Don’t talk! Just fuck me! Give me lots and lots of your wonderful prick! I’m cumming!” she screamed suddenly.

And the quickening complaint of the bed told Mavis that Phil was plunging the prick to the small young woman. “The others?” Phil grunted as Terry sobbed with erotic fulfillment.

Mavis drifted into sleep and was only vaguely aware of her husband joining her in bed. Then it was morning and Phil awakened her with a long kiss and his fingers pinching a nipple.

“Let’s get on the road,” Phil urged, slapping the women’s bare bottoms as he urged them from the beds. Mavis noted that Terry’s eyes were red, there was an almost petulant pout on her puffy lips. Phil must have kept her awake and fucked her most of the night, she thought as she and Terry dressed in silence.


As they drove into Salt Lake City, Mavis wondered idly whether little Becky had gotten her Wednesday screw from Willie Quentin yet.

Phil parked downtown and fished a nearly full bottle of scotch from a suitcase. Then he steered the two women into a club that he and Mavis frequented on nights out. While Terry was in the women’s lounge, he told Mavis, “You two drink setups while I’m gone. I want to see the county prosecutor, talk to the SLCPD brass and get my boss down here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He returned in a couple of hours, had a couple of drinks with Mavis and Terry. “Let’s go home,” he said and Mavis nodded. Although he was silent, Mavis knew him well enough to sense he was pleased and excited.

As he parked the car in the garage, Phil said, “The prosecutor obtained arrest and search warrants. Let’s get inside, have a drink and wait for developments.”

As he sloshed scotch into three glasses, he winked at Mavis and grinned. “My boss — right on the spot — said that if this pans out, I have the agency’s managerial job in Seattle. If we want it.”

Mavis’ heart jumped and drummed rapidly in her breast. “That would be wonderful, honey.” Then she frowned. “Gad! You mix a strong drink.”

“Gotta be strong!” Phil exclaimed. “This may be a banner day for the Morans!”

About thirty minutes later, he returned from answering the telephone in the den, a smug expression on his face. He sat on the arm of Mavis’ chair, leaned over and whispered, “They found some of the loot at the Lewis home; Mick is in custody. Damn! I would like to see the expression on Ben Glover’s face when they hit him!”

Terry had been silent so long that when she did speak, Mavis felt she had just walked into the house. “Whatever is going to happen?”

Mavis glanced at her husband’s satisfied smile. “The damned suspicion that has been aimed my way will be erased! There’s going to be hell to pay in some houses around this neighborhood.”

A few minutes later, as Mavis was replenishing drinks, Miriam Carr rushed through the back door. “God! Phil what’s going on? Hank and I were having a drink in the den and a whole flock of cops from downtown showed up! They have a search warrant and they’re ransacking the house! They arrested Hank!”

Mavis could tell from Miriam’s furtive eyes that the raid held no mystery. “Want a drink, hon!” she mixed one anyway.

“I guess I need one. What the hell is going to happen?”

Mavis glanced at her husband, loved the noncommittal way he shrugged.

“Hank has been on this fuckin’ force for fourteen years! Where do these lousy Salt Lake cops get off, arresting him?”

The chimes were sounded from the back door and Phil hurried to answer the beckon.

When he returned, he motioned Mavis aside. “Hank is on his way downtown to jail; police and insurance investigators found more than one-hundred thousand bucks in a floor trap under his and Miriam’s bar in the den. They found about the same amount of money at Willie’s house, spread under bat insulation in the ceiling! They arrested Willie in his office at the store. One of the officers said he heard they hauled him, cock and all, right out of the saddle of that little Becky Samon!”

“They should have let him finish his ride!” Mavis smirked.

The back door slammed and Connie Quentin dashed into the living room. “Willie’s been arrested!”

“We know,” Mavis soothed, mixing her a drink without asking if she wanted one; it was obvious she needed one.

A short time later, as Mavis was studying Miriam and Terry and Connie huddled together on a sofa, the front door chimes echoed through the house. Phil opened the door and admitted two men from his agency and a plainclothes policeman, a detective captain.

“Glover is a riot,” the captain said. “We had no trouble with him. He was trying to wear out his part of the take by counting it over and over. He had more than a hundred thou spread out on the kitchen table in neat little piles!”

Mavis thought the captain seemed embarrassed, apologetic and pleased. He took a straight shot of scotch and offered Phil his hand. “Phil,” he said huskily, “I never wanted to suspect you; you’re a damned good investigator. I understand from these fellows of your agency we’re going to lose you to Seattle. Are you going to take it?”

“Yes,” Mavis responded as Phil started to nod slowly.

“Well, good luck,” the captain said, “I better get downtown. I have a lot of paperwork to put in order. God! What a haul today has been!” Mavis let him out and closed the door slowly, silently. She turned as Phil slowly unwound. “Fellows,” he said softly, “what would you like?”

“Jim here,” one of the insurance agency representatives said, “is transferring in from our Topeka, Kansas, office. He’s going to need a house. The boss thought maybe he could look over yours and buy it — if you take the Seattle promotion.”

“Sure, sure,” Phil said.

And Mavis peered at him intently as her husband’s eyes brightened.

“How long has it been since you saw your wife — what’s your name?”

“Jim Svenson,” he said. “About two months.”

“Just a minute, before you look around. I think it would be a good idea if you took along a guide and chaperone. Mavis and I wouldn’t want you to be lonely.”

Mavis scowled at her husband. Whom did he have in mind to escort a potential house buyer? His implication was plain — and she was the only one who really knew the house.

“Okay, ladies,” Phil commanded, pointing at Connie and Miriam and Terry, “on your feet! And get your clothes off! Jim, the bedrooms are at the top of the stairs — make yourself at home.”

When the three women hesitated, Phil crossed the room and quickly undressed them. They were too stunned to protest. “Take your pick — gentlemen — you too, Mark — we have the finest hostesses in town.”

“You dirty, rotten bastard!” Connie exploded. “We won’t…”

“Oh, shut up, Con!” Miriam snarled. “We may be going someplace where we won’t get any decent male twanging for a long time; so let’s have a good fuck and enjoy it! The Swede looks like he could take on two girls — judging from the bulge in his pants! Well, studs, make a choice; the odd girl can go with the big galoot from Topeka!”

Mavis had no idea how they would pair off as the men trudged up the stairs, the three women prancing ahead of them. She didn’t care.

Suddenly, she felt she no longer was a sex captive. “Now, Phil,” she teased, “what happens now?”

“Well, we get ten percent of the recovered loot as reward — something over forty thousand dollars; we’ll go to Seattle…”

“Come on!” she demanded. “I mean right now!”

“Well,” he taunted her, exploring her boobies with one hand and squeezing her butt with the other, “I think I’ll strip my wife, lay her out on the floor and have a good, choice piece of ass for a change.”

“Ooooohhhhhh,” Mavis sighed as he slid his long cock into her tight cranny. She liked being this kind of sex captive. “Ooooohhhhhh! Fuck me, darling…”

THE END

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