The lovely young blonde crossed one long slender leg gracefully over the other,
and smiled dazzlingly at Doug. "Thank you so much for picking me up!" she
breathed.  "I've had absolutely no luck at all this morning--that is, until you
stopped for me, Mr. ...?" "Fletcher, Doug Fletcher," Doug supplied, darting
another look at the appealing young hitchhiker.  He had been so surprised to see
her, waiting at the entrance to the expressway, that he had impulsively stopped
for her.  Now he was glad he had--at least the journey to work wouldn't be as
boring as it usually was. "I'm Selma Blake," the blonde went on, as she pulled
out a packet of cigarettes.  Doug refused her offer of one, and she lit her own,
pulling deeply on it.  He couldn't resist stealing another glance at her--he was
certainly attractive, and the short skirt she was wearing revealed the smooth
sweep of her curvaceous thighs.  Her long blonde hair swung back freely over her
shoulders and she had a youthful carefree look which suddenly made him feel old
and careworn. "Do you always hitchhike to work ... If that's where you're going
..." Doug inquired, fighting his desire to forget all about the heavy rush-hour
traffic and concentrate solely on his beautiful passenger. "Oh, sometimes," Selma
replied enigmatically, and smiled at him again, her full ripe lips curving upward
tantalizingly. Doug was aware of a tightening in his loins, of the stirring of
his awakening cock, and hoped that its stiffening was not noticeable through his
trousers.  Steady on, he warned himself silently, don't forget you're a married
man! "You look angry all of a sudden!" Selma said, and Doug realized that he was
frowning, the corners of his mouth drooping, his lips white and tight. "I'm not
... I'm just thinking," he said lamely, angry that she had noticed his reaction
to his internal thoughts.  Any man would scowl if he had the problems I've got!
he told himself, unable to turn his thoughts away from Betty and their fight this
morning.  Just like me to have to worry about that nagging bitch when I've got a
cute dish like Selma beside me. He couldn't help thinking that their quarrels got
more and more frequent, while their love life, such as it was, got less and less
frequent.  They had tried to figure out what was wrong between them, by calm
conversation, but it always ended the same way, with one or the other of them
hurtling accusations at the other.  But he knew what the problem was ... the
plain and simple fact was that he wasn't getting a good lay at home and that was
bound to get to any normal guy after a while!  But Betty, every time they even
got near to discussing the crux of the matter, seemed to get hysterical, yelling
"it's all your fault," and refusing to discuss it further. Well, he'd had enough
of that, a man could only put up with so much before he cracked, and he was
dangerously close to the breaking point now--this morning's quarrel was almost
the last straw!  If that frigid wife of his had any idea of how she was affecting
him, she'd change her tune, and quick, before it was too late ... "Hey, calm
down," Selma said suddenly, leaning a reassuring hand on his arm, and Doug was
amazed at the shudder of pleasure which rippled through him from the electric
contact.  "You're all wound up," she went on sympathetically.  "Something must
really be getting to you!" Yes, something is, Doug smiled grimly to himself,
acutely aware of her gently pressuring hand on his arm. "Where will I drop you
off?" he asked brusquely, avoiding her eyes. "Central Avenue will be fine," Selma
responded, gathering up her bag. "Look ... how ... would you like to meet ... say
for a drink, after work?" Doug heard himself saying almost involuntarily.  He was
aware of the painful thudding of his heart as he waited for her reply.  She'd
probably refuse, after all, he had no business asking her in the first place.
"Sure, I'd like that," she said at last, and Doug realized that he had been
holding his breath. "Great, that's great," Doug exclaimed, and said that he'd
pick her up outside her office at five. He sat watching, his eyes glued to the
provocative sight of her shapely hips until she was lost to sight in the hurrying
crowd. Hell, it's only a date for a drink, no harm in that, he told himself as he
steered the car off in the direction of the city center.  And it sure will be
better than going home to Betty and facing another of her scenes.

*    *    *

Betty Fletcher grimaced as she swallowed the hot coffee.  She couldn't adjust to
the slightly bitter taste of the brandy, but knew that the overall effect of the
mixture compensated for the unusual taste.  Already she felt a warm tingling deep
in the pit of her stomach as the hot liquid burned its way down and she could
almost feel the tension easing out of her muscles.  Closing her eyes, she leaned
back against the back of the breakfast nook, and tried to calm her troubled
thoughts.  She hadn't meant to lose her temper with Doug this morning; she really
hadn't.  But she just couldn't help it.  She felt so irritated and tired, so
depressed as soon as she woke up.  Of course it was his fault; he knew that when
she said she didn't feel like making love, she meant it.  But he always
persisted, which really got her upset, and made her nervy and on edge all night,
usually carrying through into the morning. If only he'd understand her, or even
try to. But no!  All he ever thought about was himself, and sex!  He made her
feel like an automaton with the constant demands--no wonder she lost her temper
with him so much. She took another deep drink of her brandied coffee, and
wondered wearily how she'd get through the day.  The idea of calling Tricia, her
girlfriend occurred to her, but even the thought of making the effort to get
dressed up and go out depressed her.  And Tricia was always so inquisitive about
the personal side of her married life, giving out details freely about her own
sexual encounters, and probing almost rudely about Doug and herself in bed.  No,
I can't face Tricia this morning, Betty sighed.  She looked listlessly around
her, mentally arranging in order of most importance the tasks she had to do.  But
she couldn't even get interested in that.  She was usually very house-proud,
capable and efficient in running her home, but now she could see telltale curls
of dust, clutters of newspapers. It isn't fair!  It isn't fair! she thought
desperately, I'm young and attractive still, life shouldn't be over for me after
two years of marriage! Two years!  She got up and wandered glumly into the hall.
Two years of bickering and frustration, getting worse all the time, with no
prospects of improvement. She noticed, with disinterest, that the mailman had
come. She felt a momentary rush of interest as she saw a small package among the
usual circulars and a bill.  "Personal Products" the discreet stamp in the corner
said, and Betty realized that the vibrator-massager she'd ordered two weeks
previously had arrived. She carried it into the kitchen, and poured herself
another cup of coffee, adding a liberal splash of brandy, and then sat down again
in the breakfast nook to open the package. She had read the small advertisement
in one of the journals Doug subscribed to, and had been impressed by its claims.
"Relieves stiff areas of the body," and "pats, stimulates, while you glow all
over" and finally, "feel relaxed and happy after the deep massage of our natural
feel personal vibrator." Relaxed and happy.  How long was it since she felt that
way? She could barely remember, and almost desperately had mailed off the coupon
asking for a free trial.  She had forgotten all about it in the past couple of
weeks, as tension mounted between herself and Doug and things went from bad to
worse.  But now, here it was, and if it helped a little bit, it would be worth
it. Betty couldn't suppress a gasp as she pulled away the last layer of tissue
and revealed the gleaming cylinder of the massager.  She didn't know what she had
expected, but certainly nothing like this.  It was about six or seven inches
long, contoured at one end to allow the hand to grasp it, and the other end was
topped by a slightly flaring knob.  Betty stared at it, her eyes swimming from
the strain and also from the effects of the brandy.  It was like ... well, it
looked almost exactly like a ... a penis!  She had no idea it would be like this.
 Almost gingerly, she unfolded the instructions leaflet, and read that it was
"contoured to fit every curve of the body in a design proved to be effective ..."
Tentatively, Betty carefully picked up the instrument, and was surprised by how
snugly and almost reassuringly it fitted in her palm.  Its surface was smooth and
shiny, completely concealing the inner works.  She flicked the on-switch and was
amazed at the urgency of the vibrations; her entire hand shook gently and the
instrument felt strangely alive and warm in her hand.  Maybe it will work, maybe
it will help me relax, just like the ad said. Turning off the vibrator, she
glanced again at the instructions.  "Just apply your personal vibrator to any
stiff, unyielding spot, i.e. your neck, shoulders, even your thighs, and
immediately feel deep relief starting to pour through you from the special
penetrating powers of this new design ..."  It sounded so simple, but maybe a
simple solution was what she needed, to a far from simple problem. Betty didn't
know what to do.  She sat there, staring at the massager, faintly horrified at
its lewd shape.  It was so suggestive ... she couldn't help comparing it to
Doug's penis, which certainly didn't relax or satisfy her.  Far from it.  She
dreaded bedtime now, terrified that he would want to make love, which he usually
did.  Of course, it hadn't been like that in the beginning.  On their honeymoon,
she had been just as eager as he was to make love, and even though it hurt a
little at first, and didn't feel particularly good, she was sure that time would
adjust everything.  And Doug was so gentle and solicitous with her, too, taking
infinite care to ensure that she was ready for his entrance.  Yes, everything had
been fine, even though she hadn't derived full enjoyment from his lovemaking, and
she had been sure that it was just a matter of time.  But after the honeymoon,
things just weren't the same.  Doug just didn't seem to have the inclination or
patience to prepare her adequately first, and couldn't understand why she didn't
get as aroused as he did.  She tried explaining that she needed more time, more
stimulation, but he had brushed her explanations aside, even intimating that
there was something wrong with her because she wasn't responding fully by now. 
And so, with the passing months, things had gotten worse, and she could barely
bring herself to talk about it with him.  He was so insensitive and unfeeling
about what she needed, always blaming her without stopping to think that maybe
his approach was wrong.  No, the fault was always hers, and she was standing in
the way of his sexual happiness. Well, she was just about ready to try anything
to make life bearable again, even if he wasn't.  Wearily, she rose to her feet,
and picking up the box containing the vibrator, made her way into the bedroom. 
She felt a little unsteady on her feet, and knew it was from the brandy she had
doused into her coffee.  She had got into the habit of doing that lately--it
seemed to make the morning more livable, but she knew that this morning at least,
she'd have to lie down for a few minutes.  She must have put more than usual in,
she realized, and thankfully sank back on the large double bed. The room seemed
to spin before her eyes, and she suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable.  She opened
her robe, and lay spread- eagled on the soft coverlet, willing her body into
relaxation, mentally trying to drive the demons of tension out of her knotted
muscles.  Her legs felt leaden and her head was throbbing, and she could barely
keep her eyes open.  She knew if she closed them, she'd fall asleep, and she
didn't want that to happen.  God only knew what time she'd wake up again.  Relax,
relax, she told herself plaintively, but it was no use.  She remembered the
vibrator "apply to ... neck, shoulders ... thighs ..." Well, neck and shoulders
were out of the question; she just couldn't make the effort to reach them, but
thighs ... She reached over and grasped the vibrator and without giving herself
time to think, switched it on.  For a moment, she held it there in her hand,
feeling its throbbing pulsating through her arm, and then, with her free hand,
drew the edges of her nightgown up towards her hips, revealing the slender creamy
skin of her long supple legs.  She experienced a moment's apprehension, wondering
if she should go ahead and use it, but she decided that she had to try it.  She
just couldn't go on like this; she had to do something or go crazy. The vibrating
surface felt strange against the soft flesh of her slightly parted thighs, but
after a few moments, she got accustomed to it, and was amazed at the almost
exhilarating sensation.  It actually felt good, chased away the leaden feeling in
her legs.  She could almost feel the knots in her taut muscles untying, felt
tension unwind as the massager hummed over the tender milk-white skin. 
Involuntarily, she slid her quivering thighs further apart, allowing the humming
instrument to slip between the velvety surfaces and she became aware of new
sensations of glowing relaxation as it throbbed away the tightness of her stiff
muscles. "Mmmmmm ..." she sighed blissfully, guiding the massager upwards,
enjoying the surges of new-found pleasure swirling in the wake of the vibrator.
She gasped as the pulsating head came suddenly into direct contact with the
sensitive flesh of her outer vagina, sending an unknown chill shooting through
her.  For a long moment, she held it there, hardly daring to breathe, not knowing
what to do. Strange thrills surged through her as the throbbing top of the
vibrator nudged at the softly squirming outer lips, eliciting a strange response
deep in the pit of her loins.  No, this is wrong ... she thought vaguely in the
back of her wildly racing brain, and yet, she couldn't pull her hand away.  This
is good, too, just like it felt good on my thighs, she admitted numbly.  It's
helping me relax, it's soothing, she told herself, I can't stop now ...
Furtively, she edged the instrument closer to the burning flesh of her delicately
writhing pussy and moaned aloud as it came into closer delirious contact with the
moist folds of her slowly arousing cunt.  There was no denying it ... the lewd
machine felt good against her burning vagina!  She could feel the blood pulsing
through the thinly haired outer lips, felt the fluted edges of her trembling
inner lips nibbling eagerly at the pleasure-giving gadget, and her entire body
felt surmounted with a previously unknown delight. "Oh!  Oh!  Oh!" she gasped as
she continued to pressure the phallic-shaped device against her hotly churning
pussy. Of their own volition, her cream-white thighs spread further apart,
revealing the wet, tingling split of her madly throbbing vagina.  Without
stopping to think, Betty guided the hard penis- like instrument closer to the
wildly dilating orifice of her helplessly aroused cunt, sighing as new sensations
careened through her naked loins. "Ooooohhhhh ..." she sobbed aloud as the
pulsating machine came into searing contact with the turgid knob of her rigidly
erect clitoris, nestling between the reddish curls of her pubic hair.  Shockwaves
of pleasure cascaded over her gently heaving body, and her face was flushed with
exertion, bathed in a thin film of moisture.  It was incredible ... she had never
known anything like this before.  She continued to rub the buzzing vibrator-head
against the throbbing pink bud of her clitoris, grinding the rigid little organ
mercilessly up against the hard plastic surface of the vibrator. In the back of
her mind, a voice admonished her, but she brushed it aside.  This is wrong ...
you shouldn't do this ... it's not right ... "Oh God, I can't help it!" she
moaned through passion- clenched teeth.  And she couldn't.  She was driven by an
unknown force to hold the pulsating massager against the desire-aroused flesh of
her writhing pussy, driven to grasp whatever pleasure she could from her
love-starved body.  It can't be bad, she told herself.  Something this good, this
exhilarating just can't be bad ... Her hips were flailing and thrashing around,
her nightgown bunched up around her waist as she ground her heat-enflamed cunt up
against the wildly jerking gadget. Suddenly, she couldn't stand it any longer,
and with agonized strength, she jammed the thick head of the vibrator against the
pulsating petal-shaped opening to her madly churning body.  She grit her teeth as
she steeled herself against the unnatural contact, and then heedlessly pressed
forward again, forcing the rounded knob against her wetly writhing hole,
insinuating it past the futilely resisting outer edges, sliding it into the
heated sheath of her hotly burning cunt. She lay there gasping as she held the
thick machine in place, and then, without hesitating, she guided it deeper inside
her, spreading her legs wider and arching her pelvis upward to afford greater
access to the throbbing massager.  Her entire loins felt alive and tingling and
the instrument seemed to caress the moist tender inner tissues, which were
already beginning to secrete excitedly, clasping the pseudo-phallus with greedy
hunger.  Of their own accord, her hips began to gyrate in time to the rhythmic
pulsing of the vibrator, and as the heaving inner walls of her pussy began to
lubricate with her moist feminine juices, she was able to rotate the device
inside her clasping vagina, adding to the tremendous swirls of pleasure already
building up deep inside her.  She had never known anything like it; it was much,
much better than any time with Doug.  It was in fact almost as if her husband no
longer existed; all that mattered to her was this incredible pleasure-giving
instrument which was making love to her with an unbearable intensity.  Her head
began to whirl and her passion-drenched cuntal walls began an eager clutching at
the half-buried machine, as if it was desperately trying to suck the gadget
inside its heated depths. Betty was bucking and thrashing against the bed,
completely out of control now, aware that for the first time she was approaching
a tremendous orgasm.  And then, she couldn't hold back any longer ... "I'm
cumming!  I'm cumming!  I'm cumming!" she shrieked wildly as wave after wave of
overwhelmingly hot pleasure washed over her.  She was climaxing, and it was
better than she ever imagined.  Desperately, she continued to ram the white
imitation penis up between her crazily kicking legs, her voice incoherent with
hoarse mewls.  Her deep pelvic thrusts shook the whole bed, but Betty was
oblivious to everything but the unbelievable sensations cavorting through her
body, culminating in the overpowering pleasure that was burning up between her
legs. At last, the tremors subsided, and the uncontrollable flexing in her belly
grew less and less, until finally, she lay still, her breathing shallow, her face
flushed and moist with perspiration. The room still seemed to be swirling around
her as she placed the vibrator back on the bedside table. Conflicting feelings
tumbled about in her dazed brain.  Her body felt satiated and glowing, a new,
satisfying feeling, but doubts began to form in her brain.  What would Doug say
if he found out what she had done?  That she had made herself climax in that lewd
way? A sudden, agonizing image of how she must have appeared flashed across her
mind to taunt her--legs obscenely spread, nightgown unashamedly wrinkled up
around her waist, her hand eagerly thrusting the plastic vibrating instrument
into her vagina ... "Oh no!" she sobbed suddenly, her face crimsoning with shame.
How could I have done such a disgusting, perverted thing? She stared anew at the
gleaming device, still wet and glistening from her inner juices, and a feeling of
revulsion rose up inside her.  Unable to stand the sight of it any longer, she
hurriedly threw it into the box and rushing over to the bureau, flung it into the
bottom drawer, under a layer of clothes she seldom used.  She caught a glimpse of
herself in the full length mirror behind the door and gasped at her disheveled
hair, her flushed, lustful face, the erect buds of her nipples through her
nightie. Oh God, what's happening to me? she sobbed as she dashed into the
bathroom, unable to stand any longer the sight of her sensually satisfied body.

Doug knew he was driving recklessly, but still he didn't slow down.  He was
beginning to be sorry that he had ever met Selma, and the one drink they had had
together was a disaster.  He knew that most of the fault was his.  Somehow, he
just couldn't bring himself to unwind.  Nothing but platitudes came into his
head, and things weren't helped by the fact that Selma herself was relaxed and
carefree.  Instead of helping to loosen him up, it only made him more uptight. 
It was because he was guilty, he knew.  He couldn't help wondering what Betty
would think if she knew he had taken a gorgeous young blonde out for a drink
after work.  Worse still, what would she say if she knew that the lovely teenager
was really interested in him?  Because, the fact was, in spite of his being
tongue-tied, Selma didn't bother to hide the fact that she found him attractive. 
He'd have to be a fool not to notice, and the knowledge filled him with mixed
feelings. Even though she was quiet and motionless now in the passenger seat
beside him, Doug was acutely aware of her presence.  The thought that a beautiful
young girl like Selma was interested in him, or even found him attractive, gave
him a secret thrill of pleasure, but he also found himself filled with
foreboding.  Just why, he couldn't say.  He knew that he found her attractive--in
fact, she was one of the loveliest girls he'd ever seen--and in the end, he had
to admit to himself that he was afraid.  Afraid of what might happen, afraid of
his own feelings and desires, and afraid of what Betty would think if she ever
found out. Not that there's any likelihood of anything happening, he thought
bitterly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the striking profile of the
young blonde teenager.  She can't wait to get home; otherwise she'd have accepted
another drink ... Doug was completely sunk in his depressed thoughts, and he
didn't notice the sudden choking sounds that were coming from the engine.  The
first thing he realized was that the car was slowly grinding to a halt. "What the
hell ..." he swore as it came to a complete standstill. "Maybe you're out of
gas?" Selma suggested helpfully. But Doug knew he wasn't and a quick glance at
the gas gauge confirmed that it was half full.  Desperately, he tried the starter
again, but the sputtering sound was ominous. "What a place to break down!" he
muttered as he looked out on the dark, lonely road.  "We must be miles away from
anywhere!" "I think ... I think the nearest gas station is about two miles away,"
Selma said in a small voice.  "I'm sorry ..." "It's not your fault," Doug assured
her.  "If it didn't happen here, it'd happen somewhere else!" "If you hadn't
decided to drive me home ..." Selma said again, her voice catching. "Don't worry
about that, Selma.  Is there a phone near here?" Selma shook her head.  "No, the
nearest one is at the gas station!" "Well, it looks as if I'll have to walk there
and get a guy to come back with me!" Doug said, feeling irritated. This is what
happens when a guy tries to date a girl on the sly, he told himself angrily.  Out
loud, he called to Selma.  "You should be all right here.  Just get in the back
seat and lock the doors.  I won't be long!" Before he could hear her reply, he
got out of the car and then decided to have a quick look under the hood. 
Luckily, he had a flashlight with him, and he peered into the mysterious darkness
of the engine.  Almost a novice at mechanics, he couldn't make anything of the
motor, and slammed down the top again. You've got a nice long walk for your
trouble now, old buddy, he told himself and turned in the direction Selma had
told him. But he was suddenly arrested by a heartfelt cry. "Doug!  Doug!  Don't
leave me!" What the hell's the matter now? he thought angrily as he turned back
towards the car. "Selma!  What's wrong?" he asked, opening the back door and
looking in. "Don't leave me here alone!  I'm afraid!" she whispered, and her
voice sounded as if she had been crying. "But nothing will happen to you and I
won't be long!" he assured her. "Let me come with you!" she begged, her voice
soft and pleading. "But if you come, you'll only slow us down.  I intend to run
most of the way!" "B-But I can't stay here!  I'm ... I'm scared to death!" her
cry ended on a sob and Doug eased himself into the back seat beside her.  He just
couldn't go off and leave her alone, crying and frightened. "Now Selma, don't
cry.  There's nothing to be frightened of. I'll be back soon and then I'll take
you home." he soothed, placing his arm reassuringly around her shoulder.  Within
moments, she was clinging to him and he could feel her slender frame shaking as
she pleaded with him. "We can stay here in the car until someone comes!  There's
bound to be people passing by, on their way back from the shopping center at
Forest Circle!" "This road looks as deserted as hell to me!  We haven't seen an
automobile on it yet!" Doug said severely, wondering how he was going to
extricate himself from the mess he was in.  It was obvious he couldn't leave
Selma by herself in the car, but on the other hand, if she went with him, it
might be hours before they got on the road again.  Her body felt so small and
vulnerable in the crook of his arm and he knew that she was really terrified at
the prospect of being left alone.  Maybe the best thing would be to bring her
along, regardless of how long it would take. After all, he couldn't sit here all
night trying to persuade her. "Okay, Selma," he began, but he was suddenly cut
off as she moved still closer to him and in a moment, her lips were grazing along
his jawline, trailing hot, moist kisses in an excruciating path to the fullness
of his lips.  She was kissing him! For a long moment, he was immobilized with
surprise, but then as the ripe warmth of her lips pressed hungrily against his,
he found himself responding eagerly, grinding his mouth down against hers, his
arms tightening around her in a powerful embrace. A surge of pleasure thrilled
through him as he felt the soft pliancy of her body, and then her tongue darted
into his mouth. It slipped past his teeth and began to fence and twist around his
own still dormant organ, whipping up a froth of saliva as it swirled around in
his mouth.  His head felt light and dizzy and his lips felt as if they were glued
to Selma's softly yielding mouth.  Instinctively, he lowered his hand and circled
tightly the palpitating mound of her breast beneath her light blouse.  He could
feel the hardening arousal of her nipple as it leaped gladly under the caressing
pressure of his hand, and, gaining in courage, he lowered his searching fingers
still lower.  He drew in his breath sharply when they came into contact with the
gently quivering flesh of her thigh, soft and tender under the shiny encasement
of her stockings. "Oh Doug ..." she whispered softly, her voice warm and
exciting. But her words brought him to his senses.  He wanted to go on like this,
kissing and stroking her, but he couldn't.  He might go too far ... "Look, Selma,
we'd better ..." he began lamely. "We'd better what?" she teased, and he could
only just make out her face in the dim light of the back seat.  They were like
two people marooned on a strange island, insulated from the rest of the world in
the back seat.  The knowledge of their solitude frightened him, and at the same
time excited him.  Doug could hear her breathing, shallow and rapid, and the
almost tentative touch of her fingertips on his thigh. "Selma, we can't ... the
car ..." he choked, not knowing what to say.  But then, her long fingers crawled
excitingly upward and suddenly came into searing contact with the throbbing flesh
of his pounding cock. "Oh God, Selma ..." he rasped, hardly able to bear it as
his rapidly palpitating cock began to grow with lustful intensity, swelling under
the gently caressing strokes of her hand.  Already it was straining against the
material of his pants, and his hands had tightened like vises around the girl's
trembling shoulders. He thought he'd go mad from the excruciating pressure when
he heard the unmistakable whir of the zipper of his fly and then, his liberated
penis leaped joyfully upward, a hard, pulsating rod of flesh.  Almost
immediately, Selma's fingers tightened around it, exerting exquisite pressure on
the tingling surface.  She ran her sensitive fingertips up and down the pulsing
length of it, making Doug grit his teeth with overwhelming passion. "Mmmmm ... it
feels nice and hard already ..." Selma crooned, still stroking and caressing the
lust-maddened shaft unbearably. "Selma ... what do you think you're doing?" he
gasped suddenly, desperately trying to force himself back to reality. "What am I
doing?" the lovely blonde murmured.  "Why, I'm stroking and fondling your lovely
big prick, to make it even bigger and harder ..." The lewd words sent a fiery
arrow of arousal shafting through him and with a moan, he crushed his lips down
on her unsuspecting mouth, bruising against her lips with unsated hunger.  This
time, his tongue nudged hungrily against her teeth, forced its way up into the
warm moistness of her mouth.  His hands fumbled at the buttons of her blouse,
almost ripping them away in his haste. Eagerly, they sought the warm quivering
flesh of her palpitating breasts, dipping inside her brassiere and brushing
against the burning buds of her turgid nipples.  Selma mewled as he kneaded the
sensitive flesh, her entire body squirming and tingling from his touch. 
Relentlessly, his hands chased downward and began to unzip her skirt, and Selma
raised her thighs to allow him to slide it down over her shapely hips.  He could
see the whiteness of her panties gleaming in the half-light and then, with a
savage, incoherent moan, he began to tug at the flimsy material.  His eyes
strained as he caught a glimpse of the golden triangle at the top of her
voluptuously curved thighs, and then, more hurriedly, he began to ease the dainty
panties down over her long, slender legs, pulling away her stockings as he did
so.  At last she was naked beside him in the back seat, and Doug was
overwhelmingly aware of the exciting closeness of her, of the mesmerizing lure of
her warm, yielding body. Just then, a car loomed up before them, its headlights
almost blinding them both. "Oh God, who is it?" Selma gasped, but Doug hardly
heard her. In the strong light, he could see the full splendor of her completely
naked body, and his eyes were bulging in his head as he stared at the alabaster
whiteness of her upswept breasts, surmounted by the roseate tips of her
burgeoning nipples. Swiftly, his excited gaze dropped to the smooth sweep of her
hips and fastened on the glossy flaxen triangle of pubic curls between her
cream-like thighs.  But, moments later, the car had swept by them and their own
automobile was plunged into darkness. He realized that Selma was shivering beside
him. "I got a fright," she whispered, "for a moment, I thought ..." Doug gathered
her in his arms and pulled her to him.  He had hardly noticed the other auto, in
his passionate arousal, had not even thought of stopping it and asking for a ride
to the gas station.  All he could think of was Selma.  Once more he began to
paint a burning path of passionate kisses along the curve of her swan-like neck,
down to the full ripeness of her firmly rounded breasts.  He enclosed each dark,
throbbing nipple in his mouth, titillating the little buds with his tongue,
nibbling at the excited puckering of her dark-red areolas.  His knee edged
between the silkiness of her slightly parted legs, forcing them even further
apart, and Doug thought he could just barely see an enticing gleam of her moist
pink cuntal-slit glimmering beneath the curling wisps of pussy tendrils. His
burgeoning penis was hard and intensely alive, every nerve ending taut and
excited and he moaned aloud with new pleasure when he felt her fingers once more
close around it. "Oh Christ, Selma," he suddenly blurted, "I want to fuck you ...
I want to fuck you good and hard ..." Her fingers tightened around the rigid
shaft of his tormented cock and then she began to draw it towards the tantalizing
fulcrum of her body.  He could feel the velvety wetness of her softly quivering
outer lips as the hard rubbery head of his jerking shaft nudged against them, and
he had to force himself to hold back. "Ooooohhhh yes ... yesss ... fuck me now,
lover ..." Selma moaned suddenly, her voice harsh with desire.  Doug couldn't
stand it a moment longer.  He had had all he could take and the pent-up force of
his passion rushed out with a single overpowering drive, as he rammed brutally
forward.  With a flesh-splitting thrust, he parted the futilely resisting outer
lips and crammed the hard pounding length of his lust-bloated rod halfway up into
the tight, unprepared depths of her cuntal sheath. "AAAARRRRGGGGGHHH ... OH GOD
YOU'RE KILLING ME!" Selma wailed piteously, desperately thrashing her hips in a
frantic effort to elude the cruel impalement. But Doug, goaded on by almost
maniac lust, ignored her cry. Heedlessly, he continued to surge forward, forcing
his giant shaft to the hilt in her defenseless little belly.  He held it there
almost interminably, and then, with excruciating slowness, began to flex it in
the pulsing darkness of her tight, dry vaginal channel. "OOOOOOHHHHH ...
uuugggghhhnnn ..." Selma moaned as she felt the steel-hard pole nudging against
the sensitive tip of her cervix.  She had never felt so full in her life.  She
felt as if the giant shaft were cleaving her in two, swelling with every passing
second and she was almost afraid that it would explode inside her sorely
palpitating depths.  She felt vaguely uncomfortable from her awkward, half-lying
position on the back seat of Doug's car, her legs parted lewdly, her naked back
pressed against the cool leather upholstery. Doug finally began to withdraw,
pulling out his long throbbing cock in one swift stroke and then surging forward
again. "Aaaarrrrhh ... hhhmmmmhhh ..." Selma gasped as he plunged forcefully up
between her widespread legs again, sinking his lust-inflated cock once more to
the very base in her defenselessly naked belly.  This time, the tender resilient
inner membrane began to secrete excitedly, lubricating the long, lunging penis,
allowing it to slip easily in and out of her openly spread cunt. "Mmmmmm ..." she
moaned again suddenly, as tiny pinpricks of pleasure began to form deep somewhere
in her loins, and a long shiver of ecstatic joy chilled her backbone.  Her
voluptuously silken thighs spread even farther apart of their own violation, her
toes curling around Doug's lower back.  Her arms reached up and she clasped him
eagerly around the neck, spiraling her pelvis upwards to receive his rhythmic
downthrusts. Doug was in a world of his own.  He had never experienced anything
like this in his life before, and the knowledge that he was fucking a
near-stranger in the back seat of his car, on a lonely country road, gave him an
illicit feeling of pleasure that was excitingly mingled with power.  He was
exhilarated by the thought of what he was doing, and the wanton act liberated him
in a way that he had almost forgotten.  Selma was so yielding, so provocative,
and just as aroused as he was!  He had almost forgotten that a woman could be
like that.  He had almost forgotten the pleasure of fucking a real woman, a fully
responsive female who returned thrust for thrust.  Selma made him feel like a
real man, completely sure of his masculinity--a feeling he had never had with
Betty! Betty.  For a moment, he expected his conscience to overwhelm him with
recriminations.  He half-anticipated that the reminder of his wife would somehow
make him feel different--would engender feelings of guilt and remorse--but it
didn't!  He felt nothing but the almost overpowering pleasure that he was getting
from fucking this little blonde pick-up.  The eager acceptance of her helplessly
aroused little pussy instilled him with sensual vigor and made the wisps of
passion which were curling around inside him burst into furious clouds of red-hot
pleasure.  He wished he could see Selma's face clearly, but from what he could
see, he knew that her head was thrown back, her mouth half-open, spewing out
incoherent words that were the expression of her complete arousal. He could feel
the hardness of her turgid little nipples against his chest, could feel the
increasing urgency of the spasms which were convulsing her body. "Oh God yesss
... that's it ... fuck me harder ... harder ..." she pleaded, her voice
indistinct and hoarse with lust.  Her wet, naked body was writhing uncontrollably
on the seat, and the clinging walls of her inner sheath were milking convulsively
on his plunging cock, tightening like a vise-grip around the sensitive flesh as
he plummeted deep into her warmly welcoming depths.  Their two bodies were fused
together as one, joined where his long rangy cock buried itself in the widely
stretched passage of her openly throbbing vagina.  They flailed and thrashed
against each other, the car being filled with the lewd, wet, slapping sounds of
their love-making.  Doug felt as if he was being driven on by some inner, unknown
force that was making him strive almost inhumanly for completion with the
tortured, lust-wracked girl beneath him.  He thought he'd go mad if he didn't
climax soon. His whole body felt on fire, every nerve-ending taut and frazzled by
the effort to reach the pinnacle of pleasure. And then, a few moments later ...
"Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  My God, I'm there!  I'm ... I'm ... aaaahhh... I'M CUMMING!"
Selma's choked cry rang out just as her body stiffened almost unbearably, and
then she was crashing down on the seat, pounding her passion-demented cunt up
against Doug's furiously driving cock. She was mewling and groaning
uncontrollably, her entire body caught up in the throes of an incredible orgasm. 
Doug could feel the passionate vibrations resounding throughout the length of her
feverishly flailing body, and her frantic spasms triggered his own release. All
at once, the tremendous pressure which had been building up in his balls seemed
to explode.  His head began to spin and his body seemed to pass out of his
control, as a series of convulsive shudders gripped it and made him fuck brutally
between the moaning girl's wantonly splayed legs. "AAAAAHHHHH ... I'm cumming
too!" he moaned savagely, as his tortured scrotum at last released the first hot
spurt of his seething male sperm.  It rushed blindly from the dark, hot cavern of
his balls and poured out of the pulsating tube of his wildly stabbing cock, to
gush wetly into the hungrily receptive depths of Selma's eagerly clasping cunt. 
It continued to flow in a hot, boiling jet of white fluid, seeping into the
steaming creases and crevices of Selma's voraciously clutching vagina. When, at
last, the cumming was over, and he could sense, rather than see, that Selma was
satiated, he collapsed over her moistly quivering form, covering her with his own
trembling body. He was filled with an exultant sense of well-being, and his mind
was wiped clean of all peripheral problems.  He didn't care about the fact that
the car wouldn't start, that he had just been unfaithful to his wife by fucking a
young teenager.  He'd worry about those things later.  Right now, he didn't care
about anything but the fact that he was satiated and fulfilled beyond his wildest
dreams.  And at the moment, nothing mattered but that ...

*    *    *

Betty was trying to decide whether or not to call the police, when she heard the
car in the driveway.  Oh thank God was her initial reaction.  It was almost three
a.m. and she hadn't heard a word from Doug all day.  At first, she thought that
he was just working overtime, or maybe stopped off somewhere for a drink.  But as
the hours ticked by and midnight came and went, she really began to get worried. 
Maybe he met with an accident was the recurring thought in her head and more than
once, she had her hand on the receiver to dial the police.  But now, thank
goodness, he was home, and presumably all right.  Her feeling of relief passed
quickly and she was left with a vague feeling of annoyance.  Why in hell hadn't
he called her? "Oh, you're still up," Doug commented as he let himself in the
back door. Betty felt the blood rising to her head and bit back a sharp retort. 
Maybe he has a good reason, and he'll tell me in a moment.  "Would you like
anything, some coffee, or maybe a sandwich?" she asked, trying to keep her voice
careful and even. "No, just get me a drink, will you?" Doug replied without
looking at her. Something in his manner and the way he had snapped out his answer
irritated Betty, and she couldn't help hissing back: "What kept you till this
hour?  I've nearly gone out of my mind with worry!" "Just get me that drink,
okay?" Doug said coldly, peeling off his jacket.  Betty, seething with burning
anger, mixed him a Scotch and soda and silently handed it to him.  She didn't
know what to say next.  She didn't want to anger him, but on the other hand, she
felt she was entitled to some explanation.  She watched as Doug took a deep
swallow of the drink, and wondered what could have delayed him. "The car broke
down," he said finally, and something snapped inside Betty.  His brief, unclear
explanation stung her to the quick, and the unfeeling way he was treating her
concern and worry made her quiver with rising fury. "Well, why the hell didn't
you call me and let me know?  I nearly called the police, I was so worried about
you!  You didn't have the good manners to call me, and now you're acting as if
I'm some kind of nut just for asking!" The words tumbled out in a near-incoherent
blaze of anger, and Betty found that she was trembling. "Look, honey, I'm dead
tired.  Let's leave it till the morning, all right?" "NO!  IT'S NOT ALL RIGHT!"
Betty sobbed, giving full vent to her rage.  "You come back here, cool as a
cucumber, and expect me to believe that bull about the car breaking down!  You
must think I'm a real dumb-bell!" "Listen, Betty, I don't feel like listening to
your hysterics right now.  The car broke down and I was so worried about it, I
forgot to phone you until I was ready to leave the gas station, so I decided not
to bother and get right on home!" Doug lied smoothly, hoping that his wife
wouldn't notice the slight flush that was rising to his face.  He hadn't realized
it was so late, or he would have phoned, if only to avert Betty's histrionics.
But he really did forget to phone, what with Selma wanting to fuck again, and
then by the time they got to a gas station and got the car fixed, and then
dropped her off at home ... "So I'm hysterical, am I?" Betty shrilled.  "If you'd
been stuck here all these hours, worried to death about where I was, you'd be
hysterical, too!" "Hysterical, maybe, but I wouldn't goddamn nag you!" Doug
retorted, unable to contain himself. "And why the hell shouldn't I nag, when you
come home at this hour with some flimsy excuse!  For all I know, you were out
with some other woman!" Doug blanched, and wondered if she could hear the furious
thudding of his heart.  Had she guessed?  Did she find out in some way that he'd
spent those hours with Selma?  His guilty conscience churned in speculation and
he was unable to form a suitable reply. Betty noticed his uneasiness and she
pressed her advantage. "Yes, that's it.  You were probably out with some cheap
slut, and now you come back here to me, at this hour of the morning, without even
an apology!" "Why the hell should I apologize?" Doug railed, suddenly finding his
voice again.  "The car did break down," he insisted, "and if you like, you can
check the gas station in the morning!" As soon as he said it, he was sorry. 
Suppose she did check the gas station, and the attendant told her that he had
been with a voluptuous blonde?  Oh Christ, he shouldn't have said that. "Let's go
to bed, honey," he said in a conciliatory tone, "we're both tired and tomorrow--"
"I don't want to hear anything more about tomorrow!  I want to get to the bottom
of this tonight!" Betty asserted violently. She knew she was acting shrewishly,
but she couldn't help herself. The floodgates of her emotions had burst open and
had washed away any restraint she might have put on her tongue.  The day had been
such a miserable one, and throughout the length of it, she had to live with her
guilt over using that horrible vibrator.  Several times she had decided she'd
make a clean breast of it and tell Doug when he came home, but that was out of
the question now.  She knew she was just taking her guilty feelings out on her
husband, and another time she'd have accepted his excuse with loving concern. 
But tonight, she just couldn't let the matter rest. "Betty," Doug began in a
threatening voice, "I'm sick and tired of your harangue.  Now just shut up and
leave me alone!" Betty's feelings were lacerated by her husband's cold tone. All
the feelings she had nurtured about being misused and unappreciated leaped to the
fore and pushed aside caution. "How dare you speak to me like that?" she raged. 
"I'm sick and tired of you, with your disgusting ways, always thinking about sex,
treating me as if I was a robot!  You act as if you were God Almighty, but I know
what you're really like!  You're a ... a ... bad-mannered, ill-tempered ...
savage!" Her eyes were blazing and she was staring at her husband with utter
loathing.  A recollection of how he had wanted to make love to her last night
flashed before her eyes, and of the other row they'd had this morning ... Oh God,
she just couldn't take any more! Doug couldn't believe his ears.  He couldn't
quite follow her line of thought, and as he hadn't mentioned making love, her
outburst took him by surprise.  But it also infuriated him.  Selma doesn't think
I'm a bad-mannered, ill-tempered savage! he thought with sudden vehemence, and
involuntarily took a step towards his wife. "Stay away from me!" she shrieked
wildly, jerking back against the kitchen table. That was the last straw for Doug.
 The realization that his wife was afraid of him, had actually thought that he
was going to harm her in some way goaded him in a way that her words hadn't. So
she thought he was some kind of a monster, did she?  Well, he had never given her
any reason to think that before, but by Christ he would now! "I told you before
to shut up, you nagging bitch!" he spat, moving towards her and grabbing her
shoulder with a rough movement. "TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" she screamed,
struggling desperately to break away. "I'll teach you to pay attention to me,"
Doug snarled, and with a sudden swipe, slapped her hard across the face.  Betty
stared at him in dumbfounded horror, unable to believe that he had actually
struck her. "You ... you bastard!  You hit me!" she gasped in disbelief. "Now I
know what you're really like ... a man that would strike a woman!" "You haven't a
clue what I'm really like," her husband sneered, "but by God, you'll soon learn!"
"Get away from me!" she demanded hoarsely, her eyes widening in fright, dismayed
at the reaction she had provoked. "I've had just about all I can take from you,"
Doug spat, his hand tightening on her arm.  "Now you'll do what I say, and like
it!" A hot retort choked in Betty's throat.  She was really afraid now.  She had
never seen her husband so angry, and she knew that it was mostly her fault for
aggravating him.  Oh God, why didn't I keep my mouth shut ... "Get your clothes
off!" Doug suddenly ordered. "Wha ...?" Betty gasped, unable to believe that she
had heard him right. "GET YOUR CLOTHES OFF!" Doug yelled again, moving menacingly
closer. "You must be crazy!" Betty breathed, trying to struggle free of her
husband's clutching fingers.  But his only reply was to reach up and pull wildly
at her blouse, ripping away the buttons, baring the softly molded curves of he
brassiere-encased breasts. Betty could only stare at her husband as he hooked his
fingers under her brassiere and with one sharp tug, he pulled it away from her
body, leaving her full voluptuous breasts swinging free, the nipples stiffening
in the cool air. "Doug, please ..." she began in a softer voice, making a futile
attempt to cover her naked breasts. "Now take off those slacks!" he ordered, his
eyes fastened on the cream-like flesh of her quivering breasts. Betty didn't know
what to do.  If she obeyed him, and took off her slacks, she knew he'd only get
excited and aroused at the sight of her naked body.  And she didn't want that! 
She'd seen the look of lust leap into his eyes when he'd torn away her brassiere.
 But if she refused to obey him ... in the mood he was in, he might kill her!
Doug's fingers tightened even more painfully on her bare forearm, and fear made
Betty fumble with the zipper of her slacks. Slowly, she began to peel them down
over her fearfully trembling thighs, hoping that her husband would have a change
of heart.  But he didn't.  Trembling, she stepped out of the garment, and stood
there, clad only in a pair of diaphanous white panties. "Well!  Well!  Well! 
You're not so fiery now," Doug leered, staring at his nearly-naked wife.  "Now
let's see you take off those panties!" "But Doug ..." Betty began in a mortified
voice. "No objections!" her husband snapped.  "Just do as you're told!"
Humiliated, Betty inserted her thumbs in the narrow elastic waistband of the
panties and began to ease them down over the gentle swelling of her hips. 
Finally she stood there, completely naked, her head lowered in embarrassment.
Doug continued to stare at his wife's lovely alabaster body. His eyes were
riveted on the russet triangle gleaming between her thighs, and he couldn't draw
them away from the enticing spot. When he had ordered her to strip, he had done
so compulsively without really thinking.  He had to find a way to assert his
masculinity, which had been resurrected so magnificently by Selma, and which had
been temporarily deflated by Betty's tirade. Now he was goaded on by a feeling he
couldn't name, but which he knew had to do in some way with his guilt about
Selma.  If he had had a fully legitimate excuse for being so late, he knew he
would have called, or even if, by some chance, he had neglected to do so, he
would have made some effort to placate Betty when he finally did get home. 
Instead, he had gotten just as angry as she had.  But now, something else was
taking possession of him.  As he stared at his wife's shapely, naked body, he was
aware of the first stirrings of desire.  Even though their lovemaking was never
usually a really satisfying experience, he still got excited by her voluptuously
curved body, and tonight was no exception.  She looked like some beaten goddess,
standing there, with her head bowed.  Her long red hair had become undone and
framed he face with tawny tendrils.  Her full, ripe breasts were defiantly
upswept, and her slender waist fell away to gracefully curved hips. "Betty
honey," he began softly, relaxing his cruel hold on her arm.  He flinched as she
shrank from him, but steeled himself to make another attempt.  "I'm really sorry,
baby.  Let's ..." "Don't touch me!" Betty hissed, her voice venomous.  Although a
part of her wanted to accept his reconciliation, her pride would not let her.  He
had wounded her too deeply, and she had to have her revenge. But Doug had had
enough.  Her loathing was so obvious that he couldn't ignore it, and he had to
show her that he was the boss. With a brutal shove, he slammed her hard against
the kitchen table, making her cry out with pain.  Stumbling, she lost her balance
and fell in a crumpled heap onto the floor. In a moment, Doug was beside her, his
hands tightening on her hips, forcing her into a humiliating position on her
hands and knees. "Oh God, why can't you leave me alone?" she sobbed piteously,
too enfeebled to try and struggle. "I will, don't worry," Doug chuckled lewdly,
"when I've finished with you!" His fingers were racing over the flaccid moons of
her softly fleshed buttocks, leaving ugly red wefts in their wake.  Cruelly, he
strained apart the rounded ass-cheeks, revealing the dark trembling crevice of
her ass.  His eyes seemed to glaze as he stared at the illicit crack, and then,
without hesitation, he reached down and ran his long pink tongue along the
quivering split. "Aaaahhh!  Aaaahhh!  Aaaaahhh!" Betty sobbed, desperately
wriggling her buttocks in a frantic effort to escape.  But it was futile, and a
crimson blush flushed her face as Doug continued to slaver and lick at her secret
place.  Dear God, he must be out of his mind ... At last, the lewd licking
ceased, and a feeling of relief swept over Betty.  Maybe now he'll let me go ...
But her relief was short-lived.  Fear rose inside her as she felt the
unbelievable nudging of his finger at her tight little anus, and a shiver of
trepidation raced along her spine.  What in God's name was he going to do? 
Almost in answer to her terrified thoughts, Doug began to shove harder at the
tight little ring, watching it crinkle defensively under his touch, and then,
suddenly, he rammed it forward, forcing it past the tightly- clenched sphincter,
inserting his middle finger in the dry, resisting darkness of her anal depths.
"Aaaaaarrrrrhhhhh ... stop!  Stop!  Please stop!" Betty begged, wriggling her
soft, cream-like ass-cheeks frantically, as she tried to elude the forbidden
intruder.  But her struggles only seemed to assist her husband and he was able to
bury his finger to the first knuckle in her tortured rectum. Crudely, he began to
rotate it inside her dark channel, making her squirm and moan with agony.  But he
was oblivious to her groans and continued to burrow his alien digit in her soft,
rubbery depths.  After what seemed an eternity, he finally pulled it out, and the
pain began to recede from Betty's agonized back passage.  She felt cramped and
uncomfortable from the awkwardness of her position, and she thought of appealing
again to her husband's mercy.  But deep down inside, she knew it was no use. She
had driven him over the brink by her callous nagging, and it was too late for him
to draw back.  Besides, her pride made it impossible for her to give in any more.
 He could do what he liked with her, but he would never break her spirit.  He
might conquer her body, but her mind would never submit. But she couldn't resist
gasping with new horror when she realized what was happening.  At first she
couldn't believe it, but it was obvious. "Oh no!  Please no!" she moaned when she
felt the hard rubbery head of Doug's penis pushing crudely against the tiny
defenseless opening of her rectum.  She knew it was fully erect, because it felt
granite-hard and unyielding, and fear clutched at her throat.  She wanted to
scream out, to make a desperate effort to get away from her husband, but she
couldn't.  She was immobilized by terror, all strength drained from her by the
realization of what was happening.  Oh God, how was she to bear it? Doug stared
down at the palpitating length of his fully inflated cock with satisfaction.  It
lay long and powerful against the trembling split of his wife's anal crease, the
knobby head rubbing lewdly against the crinkled dark anus.  He knew that Betty
was afraid, and he reveled in her fear.  It made him feel masterful, and made up
in a small way for the degradation she made him feel with her taunts and
accusations.  But he wanted to subjugate her further, leave no doubt in her mind
as to who was boss.  And he was sure that when he'd finished with her, she'd know
for sure ... Betty winced when she felt the giant burgeoning head probing blindly
at her fearfully cringing anus.  She felt numb all over, and her brain refused to
register what was happening.  She could feel the lascivious pressure getting more
insistent, and felt the searing tightening of Doug's fingers of her
softly-rounded buttocks, and then ... "AAAARRRRGGGGHHH ... OH GOD PLEASE
STOOOPPPPP ..." Her voice rang out piteously and her whole body shook and
vibrated as she made a last frantic effort to elude the lust-engorged penis which
was stabbing salaciously at her defenseless sphincter.  But it was useless.  She
couldn't move forward more than a couple of inches. She was a complete prisoner
in her husband's hands, and she was powerless to do anything but submit to his
wanton designs. Doug continued to surge forward, straining with all his might,
until finally ... "NNNOOOOO ... OH GOD NOOOOO ...!" Stabs of shooting pain shot
up Betty's spinal cord as Doug finally managed to insert the thickly pulsing head
of his cock up inside the elastic-tightness of her futilely resisting rectum. For
a moment, she thought she was split in two.  She was completely stunned by the
excruciating pain and her breath was coming in agonizing gasps. "Stop it ... stop
it, please ... you're killing me ..." she rasped hoarsely, barely able to make
her voice heard. But Doug was cruelly oblivious to his wife's agony.  After a
moment or two of gathering his strength, he shoved forward again, forcing his
huge, lust-distended cock into the virginally tight, unyielding sheath of her
rectum.  Relentlessly, he surged on, searing the sensitive inner membrane
unbearably, until at long last, he was embedded to the hilt in her sorely abused
anal depths.  He held it there triumphantly, watching the desperate squirming of
Betty's lewdly skewered buttocks. "... uuugggghhhnnnhhh ... Aaaahhhh ..." Betty
moaned incessantly, unable to do anything else.  She never felt so used and
debased in her entire life.  The pain, excruciating as it was, was nothing
compared to the agony of her mind.  She could never hold up her head again after
this terrible anal rape.  She never imagined that people did such things to each
other, least of all her own husband!  And to think she'd felt guilty over using
the vibrator!  That seemed very minor now in comparison with what her husband was
doing to her. Doug began to withdraw, pulling out his long, rangy rod with a slow
movement.  The tight dry inner flesh clung agonizingly to the slowly exciting
shaft, causing new pain to flood through Betty's lewdly impaled loins. When just
the heavy, blood-filled head was still tightly sunk inside the tiny muscular
ring, Doug surged forward again, this time without stopping, and embedded his
passion-inflated cock right down to the base in her firmly clenched back channel.
 Then he began a slow, laborious in and out rhythm, the tortured rectum finally
yielding slightly and allowing him to plunge and withdraw with greater ease.
Betty's pain lessened slightly too, but her entire frame was still numb with
shock and she didn't feel anything.  Her tired brain refused to operate, too, and
she could do nothing but hunch there in her crude position, waiting until her
husband had finished with her.  Her naked buttocks felt sore and bruised, but she
was a slavish victim to her husband's greater strength and power.  But she'd pay
him back, that was for sure ... Doug fucked into his wife's widely stretched anus
like a man possessed.  The very licentiousness of the act gave him new thrills of
lurid pleasure, and the knowledge that he was hurting and embarrassing his wife
in a mind-shattering way added to his lust-incited passion.  The sight of her
crouched and trembling figure filled him with a brutal kind of power and he was
determined to get the most pleasure he could from his unwilling victim. "Move
that tight little ass of yours around on my cock, baby," he leered suddenly,
accompanying his obscene order with a hard slap of his open palm on the flaccid
flesh of her buttock. His vile words made Betty shudder with revulsion, but fear
propelled her into giving some semblance of a response, even though the idea
repulsed her.  Awkwardly, she tried to rotate the trembling mounds of her
backside, but new shivers of pain chilled through her and she had to cease her
attempts.  But luckily, Doug didn't seem to notice.  He was completely carried
away by the obscene act he was enforcing, and Betty suddenly realized that he was
very near to climaxing. His deep hard thrusts had become more convulsive, the
tempo of his brutal ass-fucking increasing with each passing second. The thought
that he would soon empty his seething hot semen into her abused anal passage
filled Betty with loathing, but at the same time, she wanted the moment to come,
so that she would be released from this degradation.  Hoarse, semi-human groans
filled the air, and Doug was like a wild beast behind her, bucking and battering
against her bruised, strained backside.  He was like a rutting animal, Betty
thought, and she wondered if she would ever forgive him for this terrible
outrage.  She doubted it, in her present state of mind. But just then, she forgot
about everything in the horrendous enormity of what happened next.  Doug
stiffened behind her, and for a moment seemed completely suspended.  And then,
with the force of a giant tidal wave, he began to fuck into her with hard
spasmodic thrusts.  He was cumming! "OH CHRIST! I'M THERE ...!" he groaned
hoarsely, his voice barely discernible.  "AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH ...!" Betty could
feel the first onrush of the scalding fluid as it jetted into her chafed anal
depths, and it stung the sensitive inner flesh almost beyond belief. "Fuck back,
goddamn you ..." Doug hissed lewdly, as he sent spurt after spurt of hot, boiling
sperm into her forever-stretched anal channel.  It flowed unceasingly into the
fearfully cringing interior of her helpless little belly to lie in a lascivious
pool in her tortured depths. At last, it was over.  Betty could hardly believe it
when she felt her husband's limply deflating penis begin to slip harmlessly from
her flooded rectum, and Doug himself staggered away from her still crouching
form. Without another word, Doug ambled in the direction of the bedroom, and
Betty heard the kitchen door slam with an ominous finality which seemed to echo
through the darkened house.



Betty had thought that the morning would never come.  All night long, it seemed
to her, she had lain awake, her thoughts seething with disbelief and anger over
what had happened.  Doug slept on unconcernedly beside her, and the knowledge
that he was apparently untroubled by what he had done, added fuel to the fire of
her fury.  When at last dawn had come, she had risen wearily, and this morning,
the brandy was very welcome in her coffee.  She had just finished her second cup
when Doug had come into the kitchen and she had silently set about preparing
breakfast for him.  She didn't think she could face anything to eat herself.
"Betty, honey, about last night ..." Doug began tentatively, hoping for some
encouraging reassurance, but Betty didn't reply. "I'm really sorry ... it'll
never happen again, believe me!" Doug's voice was earnest and humble, but Betty
didn't care. Without a word, she handed him a plate of bacon and eggs, and poured
him a cup of coffee. "At least say something," Doug pleaded, ignoring his meal.
"I've said I'm sorry--what more do you want?  I ... I guess I just lost my
temper, besides being dead tired." "Your breakfast is getting cold," Betty said
indifferently, moving out of the kitchen and going into the living room.
Gratefully, she sank down into the soft sofa.  Her husband didn't say anything
more and she was grateful for that.  She wanted to think, to go over the horrible
events of last night.  It wouldn't be for the first time, of course, but she
reasoned that the cold light of day might throw a new gleam on the unbelievable
trauma of last night.  She admitted to herself that she was partly to blame, but
at least, she told herself, her motives were altruistic.  She had been really
worried about her husband and it was her relief more than anything that had made
her harangue and nag at him when he came home. He should have phoned her--there
was no denying that.  But why didn't he, if his reason really was, as he
insisted, that the car broke down?  Betty just couldn't figure that one out.  A
looming suspicion kept nagging at the back of her mind ... maybe he had spent the
evening with another woman!  No!  No!  Doug wouldn't do a thing like that!  I
know he wouldn't ... or would he? Betty just couldn't bring herself to believe
that her husband was actually involved with another woman ... but why then had he
got so upset when she had questioned him?  Was it because of a guilty conscience?
 But worst of all, what had made him do such a disgusting, perverted thing to
her?  A shiver coursed through her as she recalled the agonizing pain and
humiliation of that degrading act.  Her sorely tried rectal channel still twinged
from his cruel rape, and she was aware of a general, overall discomfort and
achiness.  She still couldn't really believe that it had been her husband who had
done such a dreadful thing to her.  He was like a complete stranger, demented
with depraved lust.  And now, the fact was, she didn't think she could trust him
ever again.  He had broken some indefinable bond in their marriage by his wanton
behavior, and that tie could never be repaired, no matter what he did or said.
The loud pealing of the doorbell broke in on her thoughts, and glancing at the
clock, she realized that Doug must have left for work already.  She hadn't even
heard him leave.  But now, someone was at the door. Pulling her housecoat tighter
around her tall, slender body, she hurried to the front door.  Wondering who her
early morning visitors could possible be, she pulled it open, and was surprised
to find an attractive man in his early forties, accompanied by a much younger
woman, standing there. "Good morning, Mrs. ... ah ... Fletcher!" the stranger
said in a cheerful voice. "Good morning," Betty answered, "but who ...?" She was
bewildered by the fact that the stranger knew her name, and wished that he'd
state his business. "I'm sorry to bother you so early, but may I come in? There's
something I'd like to discuss with you!" Betty was surprised by his request, but
felt that there was no danger in admitting him to her home, as he was accompanied
by the young woman. "Certainly, come in, both of you," she said after a moment,
"but you must forgive me ... I haven't dressed yet." "Don't worry about that,
Mrs. Fletcher," the stranger said affably, following Betty into the livingroom.
When they were seated in the livingroom, he began again. "First of all, let me
introduce myself.  I'm Harvey Peterson, and this is Jean Wembley, my assistant. 
Now I suppose you are wondering what all this is about?" "Yes, I have to confess
that I am," Betty said, a touch of annoyance in her voice.  What did this
smooth-talking stranger want with her? "Well, I'm very pleased to be able to tell
you, Mrs. Fletcher," Peterson said, his voice lowered conspiratorially, "that you
have been noticed!" "Noticed?" Betty echoed foolishly. "Yes," Peterson went on,
"out of literally thousands, you, Mrs. Fletcher, have been noticed by our talent
scout!" "Talent scout?" Betty repeated in amazement.  "I'm afraid you've lost me,
Mr. Peterson!" "Well then, let me explain," Jean Wembley interjected smoothly. 
"Mr. Peterson is head of Galaxy Models, and sends his team of talent scouts out
to search out new material.  You see, we run a very special type of model
agency." Betty was staring from one to the other, her mouth half open in
bewilderment. "Yes," Peterson went on.  "Instead of the usual teenager type of
very young woman that most agencies seek, we look for the more striking, the more
worldly type of woman.  And you notice I say "woman".  We're not interested in
girls or teenagers!" "B-but what has all this got to do with me?" Betty asked,
still puzzled. "As I mentioned, one of our talent scouts spotted you," Peterson
explained, "at the Cross-Ways Supermarket, I think it was ..." "Yes, I often go
there," Betty agreed, "but how come he picked me?" "Because you're just what
we're looking for!" Harvey expostulated.  "You're fantastic looking.  Tall,
willowy, with that fabulous red hair.  A rare beauty, in fact, and with something
extra, too!" "What would that be?" Betty questioned, half-facetiously. She wasn't
sure she really believed the man, but on the other hand, what he was telling her
was mighty interesting ... "Allure.  Yes, in a word, allure," Peterson explained.
 "A great many women are good-looking, but not many have that extra something ...
the very thing that you've got!" "I think we'd better all have a drink," Betty
said, "it's getting too complicated for me." As she mixed the drinks, her brain
was racing wildly.  What if Peterson was serious?  Would he offer her a job as a
model?  Images of herself, swathed in elegant clothes, adorning magazines, with
all that extra money, flashed across her mind.  She'd have a life of her own! 
She'd be someone again, not just Doug's wife! Almost trembling, she carried the
drinks over to Peterson and his assistant, and put down  glass for herself on the
table beside the sofa. "Excuse me for a moment and I'll go get dressed," she
said, glad of an excuse to get away and think clearly for a few moments. "Don't
bother on our account," Peterson said.  "In fact, if you don't mind, I'd like to
take a few pictures right away." "Pictures?  Of me?" Betty said, reaching for her
drink. "Yes, for your book.  You'll need one right away, although I'm sure there
are a few bookings you can get right off the bat. But a portfolio is a good thing
to have.  I don't usually take the photos myself, but in this case ..." Betty's
brain was in a whirl.  She knew he was talking about the book that all models
carry around with them showing their best and most recent photographs.  But ...
did that mean that he was accepting her as a model without delay?  Oh God, it was
all too good to be true ... "But shouldn't I change into something better, if you
want to take full length pictures?" "No, just head and shoulders will do for now.
 Later, when we do the composite, we can worry about clothes." "B-but does this
mean that I'll really be a model?" Betty breathed excitedly, taking a deep
swallow of her drink. "Honey, you are a model," Peterson said.  "I'm just the guy
who'll introduce you to the public!" "I can hardly believe it," Betty breathed,
finishing her Scotch.  This new wrinkle put everything else in a new light. When
Doug found out that she had a glamorous job, was earning her own money, meeting
new people ... he'd quickly change his attitude.  He'd have to apologize for last
night; have to try and really make it up to her ... Oh thank goodness, things
were really working out after all ... Betty's heart was singing and she barely
heard what Peterson was saying.  Jean had gone out to the car to get the cameras
and Harvey was complimenting her. "I'm sure you'll take a fantastic photograph
... with skin like yours, and that hair ..." Betty was uneasily aware that
Peterson's eyes were traveling hungrily down her body, taking in the curved
outline of her breasts, and fastening eagerly on the long expanse of her smooth,
slender legs.  She was glad when Jean came back, laden with cameras.  She somehow
felt safer with the other woman there. Betty judged her to be in her late
twenties, and thought she was quite attractive, with her short cap of dark hair
and her slight, almost thin figure.  She wondered if she had ever been a model
herself. Harvey was busy arranging the cameras, and Betty thought they were very
impressive looking, and confusing, too.  She would have felt better if she was
wearing something else other than her robe, even slacks and a sweater, but she
was hesitant to slip off and change in case Peterson wanted her for anything.
"Right, we'd better get the info on you first before we start taking any shots,"
Peterson said.  Jean got out a large notebook, and Betty gave her name, address
and age. "Now your measurements, honey," Harvey said, pulling out an assortment
of measuring tapes from his large black bag.  He measured her height first, and
then took her weight as well. "Would you mind slipping out of that robe, honey?"
Harvey asked.  "Getting the right vital statistics is important!" "But ... I've
only got my nightgown on underneath," Betty blurted.  Somehow, she hadn't thought
that he'd want to take her measurements, and was vaguely surprised that he didn't
get Jean to do it. "Don't worry about Harvey," Jean said smiling, "models are all
alike to him ... he's seen hundreds!" Of course he has! she told herself with
relief.  I'm just being stupid about the whole thing ... She stood there in her
almost transparent nightie, her robe discarded on the chair, and Harvey
approached her with a long measuring tape.  She shivered involuntarily as he
reached around behind her and placed the tape along her back, carefully guiding
the two ends around to the front. "Must get it right on the nipples ... ah,
they're good and stiff!" he murmured, and Betty found herself blushing fiercely.
She couldn't help it.  It felt so strange to have an unknown man measuring her
bust, his fingers brushing against the turgid buds of her nipples.  They seemed
to strain eagerly against his light, almost fleeting touch, and she wondered if
he noticed. "Okay, Jean, 36!  Make a note of that!" He measured her waist and
then dropped the tape to circle around the curve of her buttocks. Gently, he
draped his hands around her hips, to straighten the tape, and Betty felt a thrill
of unknown emotion course through her.  Oh God, what was happening to her? 
Peterson's illicit touch almost felt good on her nearly naked buttocks, and his
fingers in front, drawing the edges of the measuring tape together, were only
inches away from the nylon-covered mound of her quivering vagina.  Betty gasped
with relief when he finally finished, and began to reach again for her housecoat.
"Let's do without that for a while, and get some head shots!" Harvey suggested,
and Betty had no option but to comply. The next half-hour sped by in a daze of
poses, all head shots.  Her neck felt stiff and sore from all the awkward
positions she had to take.  But it was worth it!  She could hardly believe that
it was actually happening to her.  She hadn't murmured a word of protest when
Peterson had insisted on her dropping the shoulder straps of her nightie, leaving
her neck and shoulders bare.  Of course, he was right when he said that it gave
her a better line. Jean had mixed more drinks, with Betty's permission, and now
her head felt pleasantly fuzzy.  Betty knew she shouldn't have taken the second
Scotch, but she'd have felt left out if she didn't, and besides, it helped to
ease the tenseness in her body, so unused to holding the stiff poses.  Peterson
seemed to grow more and more excited about her potential as time went on,
continually exclaiming about her face, etc. and Betty could hardly believe that
it was herself he was talking about in such glowing terms.  It was all like a
dream come true! "Now, Betty," Harvey said at length, finishing his drink, after
their short break, "how about letting me get one breast shot?" "You ... you mean
naked?" Betty said incredulously. "Sure!" Harvey said emphatically, "that's what
all the clients want nowadays, isn't it, Jean?  Why, Betty, I'm sure you see it
yourself all the time.  Take up any magazine and there it is!  Bare tits to
advertise everything from handkerchiefs to airplanes!" Betty didn't know what to
say.  She had to admit that Peterson was right.  Only the other day, she herself
had pointed out to Doug an ad which showed a half-naked girl, wearing only a
watch.  She had commented on it, wondering why they needed nudity to sell
anything.  Of course, Doug didn't even hear her--there was no need to tell him
why that sort of an ad was used. "But ... I don't think I'd like to make an ad
like that," she said after a long silence. "No, and you probably never will.  But
the fact is, the client likes to know, just in case, and always remember, in this
business, the client is everything!  He's always right!" Betty was still
wondering what to do when Jean came over to her and put an arm over her shoulder
soothingly. "Don't worry about Harvey, Betty," she whispered.  "He just wants to
take the shots, and he won't even notice.  And it'll be over in a minute!" Jean
was right.  It was silly to have scruples now, and she knew if she wanted to get
anywhere in her new career, she'd have to do what Harvey, her agent, told her.
Gingerly, Betty eased down the half-discarded nightie still further, helped by
Jean, revealing the full, milk-white mounds of her breasts.  The nipples were
erect and rigid, a striking dark red against the creaminess of her alabaster
skin, and she was aware of Harvey's bulging eyes staring at them.  His piercing
look almost made her cringe and she was glad when he moved towards his camera.
"Now Betty honey," he instructed, "put your hands under your tits and sort of
push them up and out!" "But ... but ..." Betty faltered, her face crimsoning
again. "Look baby," Harvey said patiently, "when you start working, you'll have
to look as if you're making love to the towel, or the box of detergent or
whatever it is you're selling, so you might as well start learning now!" Betty
felt childish and recalcitrant.  She wanted to do what Harvey told her, but some
inner instinct held her back.  She told herself that she just wasn't accustomed
to the ways of the world, and what went on backstage in things like modeling. 
Well, I'm learning, she told herself wryly, and, encouraged by a friendly nod
from Jean, she gently swept her voluptuously full breasts upward with a slow,
tender movement.  A little shiver of pleasure coursed through her at her own
touch and she half closed her eyes, tilting her head backward, remembering for a
fleeting moment, the unbelievable pleasure she experienced when she had made
herself climax with the vibrator. "Great!  Just great!" Harvey praised
enthusiastically as he took shot after shot. "Okay, now relax for a minute,
before we do a full-length!" he said, lighting a cigarette. "F-full length?"
Betty stammered, staring at him uncomprehendingly. "Yeah, and that'll be the
last.  I swear, Betty, when the ad guys get a load of these shots, you'll be in
real demand!" His exciting words did not stir Betty.  She was desperately trying
to bring her reeling brain back to grips with reality.  I knew I shouldn't have
taken that second drink after the brandy this morning, she scolded herself. 
Harvey wanted to do a full length of her ... he must mean her to be naked!  She
wanted to tell him that she refused, that she didn't want to pose completely
naked, but somehow, she couldn't summon the will power. "Harvey, I don't think I
want--" she began tentatively, but Peterson cut her off. "All set, Betty?" he
said, ignoring her hesitant objection. What was she to do?  She didn't want to
let him take a photograph of her naked, but he didn't seem to understand that!
"Harvey," she began again in a more authoritative voice, "I really don't think I
ought to pose naked for you!" Peterson stared at her for a moment, his brows
knitted together in irritation. "Look, Betty, if you want to be a model, you've
got to go along with what the agent and photographer says.  If you don't you
won't get anywhere, and no agency will touch you!  So what's it to be?" A shiver
of fear touched Betty's heart.  She couldn't bear not to be a model now, not
after the wonderful anticipation of the last couple of hours.  It was the answer
to her prayers, and certainly some kind of solution to the problems she faced in
her marriage.  No, she couldn't let this chance slip through her fingers ... just
because of some modest, prim objection she had. Because that's what it is, she
told herself firmly.  Some advertisements did show naked woman, from the back or
side view of course, but naked they were.  She was being foolish to object.
Apprehensively, she slid off her nightgown and stood naked, quivering slightly,
in front of Harvey and Jean.  She felt as if she was in a dream.  She couldn't
quite bring herself to believe that she was actually standing completely naked in
her own livingroom, in front of a couple of near-strangers. "Now Betty," Harvey
said, his voice strangely husky, "just stretch out on the couch, and sort of
sprawl on your side, sort of like Venus!" Obediently, Betty did as Peterson told
her, and lay full length on the sofa, her head propped up with one hand, her
thighs slightly parted.  Harvey was looking at her intently, his eyes burning
into her as they traveled from the ivory swell of her breasts down to the
gleaming russet triangle of her pussy.  Jean, too, was staring at her, and Betty
felt uncomfortable and ill at ease.  However, she felt better when Harvey began
to photograph her. "Beautiful, beautiful!" he kept repeating, and Betty just
wished that it was all over. "Now just roll over onto your stomach and show that
ass of yours!" Betty didn't care any longer about what she should or shouldn't
do.  She was beginning to think that she made a mistake in listening to Peterson
in the first place, but now that she had gone this far, she didn't care.  Harvey
took just two shots of her in this new position, and then said that he was
finished. Betty was conscious only of relief.  She felt suddenly tired and her
head was pounding from the drinks.  Hastily, she grabbed her robe and pulled it
on. "Betty, you photographed wonderfully--I can tell.  I can't wait to see the
rushes and as soon as they're through, I'll call you and let you know what's
happening!" "I'm glad ... glad ..." Betty stammered.  She didn't know what to
say, and only wished that they'd go. "Believe me, you're going to be a great
success," Harvey assured her as he gathered his bags and equipment. Almost in a
daze, Betty said goodbye to them and watched them as they walked down the drive
towards their car. At last, when they were gone, she stumbled towards the bedroom
and flung herself down on the bed, all the drinks she had consumed making her
forget everything--her husband, her new career--as she fell deeply into a fitful
sleep.



"I don't know when I'll be home," Doug said impatiently into the phone.  "No,
don't bother keeping dinner for me.  I'll grab a bite at the canteen!" He
listened patiently as Betty tried to question him further, but after a few
moments, he interrupted her. "Look, I've got to go now.  I'll see you as soon as
I can!" He said goodbye, and with a sigh of relief, hung up the phone. He dreaded
calling his wife these days, but at least it was better than facing her in
person.  He found that he was running out of excuses, and he could hardly imagine
that she believed him when he continually said he was working overtime.  But she
seemed to, and apart from her persistent questioning, she never mentioned the
matter. Just time for a quick drink before I pick up Selma, he decided, and
ordered a brandy.  The last couple of weeks had flown by for him.  Never before
were his days so filled.  He could hardly wait for work to be over so that he
could see Selma.  His entire life centered around her now, and he knew that she
felt the same way about him.  He had never met anyone like her before, and for
the first time in several years, he felt like a complete man. Of course, he'd
been worried after he lost his temper that time with Betty and fucked her in the
ass.  He'd tried to make up with her, but she refused to have anything to do with
him, so he'd given up trying.  Things had sort of reached an impasse between them
now, and they maintained an uneasy truce, but they were far from reconciled.  But
Doug didn't really care.  He had Selma, and that was the important thing for the
moment.  Things would work out with Betty, he was sure, and now that he was
having a hell of a good time with Selma, he wasn't too worried.  Besides, Betty
seemed to have cheered up of late.  It was almost as if she had some secret that
was sustaining her.  She had made oblique references on several occasions to "a
change" that was coming, and a "surprise" that he, Doug, was in for, but he
hadn't paid too much attention to that.  She'd get over that business of the
ass-fucking in time ... maybe it was the best thing after all to just ignore her
and go his own way.  And when someone like Selma was at the end of that way, it
sure made everything worthwhile ...

*    *    *

Betty could hardly believe it when she answered the doorbell and found Harvey and
Jean there.  She thought for a moment she must be dreaming. "Oh Harvey!  and
Jean!  I'm so glad to see you," she said effusively, and really meant it.  She
was sure she'd never see or hear anything of them again.  Countless times during
the past two weeks, she had gone over the whole event in her brain, wondering if
she had imagined that Peterson had said he'd get in touch with her.  For the
first few days, she had waited optimistically by the phone, confident that at any
moment, she'd lift the phone and hear Harvey.  But after a few days had passed,
and he hadn't called, she began to grow doubtful.  And along with the doubt, came
regret ... regret that she had allowed herself to be fooled into believing that
anything would come out of it, and regret for having posed naked for the
photographs. As time wore on, and Harvey hadn't called, she worked herself up
into a frenzy of worry, thinking that somehow Peterson might use the photographs
against her, or worse still, have them printed in some magazine where Doug might
see them.  What would she do then?  Things were looking very bleak, and were
compounded by the fact that Doug was never at home any more.  Betty just didn't
have a clue where he spent his time, but he always seemed to be in a hurry, and
was never home before midnight.  She didn't really care too much, it was true,
because things were definitely not right between them.  But still, it wasn't
right that he should leave her alone so much.  He just didn't seem to care about
her anymore and this knowledge did nothing to improve her state of mind. However,
just when the future seemed very gray, Harvey and Jean had turned up again almost
miraculously. Betty ushered Peterson and Jean into the livingroom, glad that this
time, she was wearing an ordinary dress, and at least looked presentable. "It's
wonderful to see you again, Betty," Jean smiled warmly, as she sat down on the
sofa.  They both accepted Betty's offer of gin and tonics, and happily, Betty
went over to the liquor cabinet and poured the drinks. "I'm sorry for not getting
in touch with you sooner," Harvey apologized, "but when you own and run an agency
like I do, you're kept going pretty much all the time!" "Yes, both of us are. 
Although I have other staff, Jean is my right hand gal!  I don't know what I'd do
without her," he said genuinely.  "And now, I'm sure you'd like to hear about
your shots!" "Well, I was wondering what became of them," Betty admitted
excitedly. "The first rushes came through, and believe me, Betty," Harvey
emphasized, "they were fabulous, just like I knew they'd be!" "Have you got any
of them with you?" Betty asked, and was disappointed to hear that he hadn't.
"Jean and I went over them, and picked out the ones we thought were the best, and
gave them over to the photographer who works with us to print." "Will I have a
portfolio soon?" Betty queried with interest. "Sure.  It won't be long now, but
to tell the truth, you won't have to make the rounds.  Jean here was a
photographer's rep at one time and she knows the game inside out.  So with her
pushing the photographer's angle and me, as your agent, pushing you, it won't be
long before you're in demand." "But I thought it might be fun to make the rounds,
for a little while, at least," Betty said, disappointment evident in her voice.
"So it might, honey," Harvey said, "but a busy woman like you, with a husband and
home to look after, can't spend all day tramping around, lugging that
God-almighty satchel around with you and maybe at the end of it, getting only a
call-back or two--if you're lucky!" "But wouldn't clients prefer to see me in
person?" she persisted, twirling her glass around in her hand. "Sure, they
would," Harvey agreed, "but believe me, the best way is to get them excited over
your book first, and then see you in person.  That way, they're bound to be sold
on you!" Betty didn't really understand Harvey's reasoning, but she decided not
to question him further.  She'd just accept his edicts without question.  After
all, he knew best, in this business anyway, and she was just a raw beginner.
"When do you think I'll go out on my first job?" she asked tentatively.  Now that
things were looking more definite, she decided she wouldn't tell Doug anything
until she had come back from her first job, maybe even with her fee as well.  She
couldn't wait to see his reaction when she sprung that one on him. "Well, you may
have to go out on a couple of go-sees first," Harvey said cautiously.  "You never
can tell how things will happen.  But one thing's for sure, it won't be long
before you're in the swing of things!" "I'd like to have some sort of idea,
though, if I could," Betty said again, hating to push the subject, but wanting
something more definite. "You're right in wanting to be prepared," Harvey
approved, and then turned to Jean. "Run out to the car, will you honey, and get
my "Coming-Up" book?" Jean hurried out to the car, but in a few moments, she was
back. "It's not there, Harvey!" she said worriedly. "Goddamn it, I must have left
it at Villiers' Studio.  Now what am I going to do?" "Don't worry, Harvey," Jean
soothed, "I'll drive over there and get it!" "I don't mean to put you to so much
trouble," Betty said timidly, "It's all right, really.  You can phone me and let
me know!" "No, I've gotta have that book," Harvey insisted, and shot a grateful
look at his assistant.  "I'd really appreciate it, Jean, honey!" "I won't be
long," Jean promised, and let herself out the front door. "How about another
drink?" Betty offered, breaking the long silence. "Sure, as long as you'll join
me," Harvey countered.  Betty, shrugging her shoulders, agreed.  She didn't
really want it, but it wouldn't do any harm, especially as she had stopped taking
brandy with her morning coffee. She sat down beside Peterson on the sofa when she
handed him his drink. "Well, Betty, how do you feel about your new career?" he
asked amiably looking directly into her eyes. "It's wonderful," Betty assured him
wholeheartedly.  "It'll mean a new way of life for me!" "And what does your
husband think of all this?" Harvey queried. "I ... I haven't told him about it,
yet," Betty admitted with embarrassment. "Why not?" Harvey wondered, idly sipping
his drink. Betty didn't quite know what to say.  She could make up something,
like she wanted to surprise him, but she didn't think she'd sound convincing
enough.  Maybe the truth was the best thing. "Well, we haven't been getting on
too well of late," Betty said in a low voice.  "In fact," she said in a rush of
confidence, "we're barely on speaking terms.  I hardly see him from one end of
the week to the other.  It's terrible ..." "Why, where does he spend his time?"
Peterson asked. "Oh, I don't know, working overtime, out with the boys, something
like that.  I suppose to avoid coming home!" "What kind of husband is he anyway?"
Harvey said briskly. "That's no way to treat a woman, especially a beautiful,
desirable one like you!" Betty didn't know what happened next; she only knew that
she was suddenly crying helplessly.  Something in Peterson's sympathetic words
struck a chord deep within her an loosened the tight clutch she had on her
emotions. "Hey, what's the matter?  Was it something I said?" Harvey asked
solicitously, placing a paternal arm around her shoulder. "No, it wasn't ... I
mean, yes ..." she blubbered, leaning against his shoulder, finding relief in his
consoling voice and comforting arm. "Take it easy, honey ..." he continued to
soothe, stroking her as tenderly as if she was a child.  "Why don't you tell me
all about it?" Peterson suppressed a secret smile.  He had guessed that Betty had
some kind of problem with her husband.  Now, the way things are going, she'll
play right into my hands ... "I can't ..." Betty sobbed, "it's too terrible ..."
"But it might help if you talk about it, honey ..." Harvey said calmly.  "These
things have a way of working out if you bring them out in the open!" "I know,"
Betty sniffed, "but I'm too embarrassed." "It can't be as bad as all that,"
Harvey assured her, "and don't forget, I'm not exactly an adolescent!" Betty
considered his last remark.  It was true that he was an older man, with probably
a lot of experience of human problems, and he was also right when he said that
things often looked better if discussed openly.  But could she tell her secrets
to an almost stranger? "In fact, sometimes it's even better to tell your problems
to a stranger," Harvey commented, as if he had read her mind. "Because a stranger
has a totally different outlook and is not emotionally involved." Betty suddenly
felt that she couldn't battle on by herself any longer.  She got absolutely no
support from Doug and she felt tense and exhausted from the strain of trying to
weather the storm alone. "The whole problem is that we're not compatible!" she
blurted, "sexually, that is!" "Lots of young couples aren't at first," Harvey
hedged, looking down at the lovely, troubled young wife. "But we've been married
for over two years, and things are just getting worse!" "In what way, Betty?"
Harvey queried helpfully. "I ... I just can't ... don't seem to respond to Doug,
that's all!" "But you're not frigid, are you?" Betty brushed aside her
instinctive objection to such an intimate conversation with someone she hardly
knew and went on vehemently. "No, I'm not, but Doug says I am!" "Well, then,
maybe the problem lies with your husband ..." "With Doug?" Betty said
incredulously. "Yes, maybe he's not the right man for you!" "But I love him!"
Betty said emphatically. "No, I don't mean that way.  What I mean is," he went on
carefully, "that maybe you need a different kind of man to arouse you!" "Another
man?  But I couldn't ..." "Not even if it would help your marriage, and Doug?"
"No!  It's wrong!  I just couldn't ..." Betty was so absorbed in her conversation
that she hardly noticed that Harvey's hand was still casually caressing her
shoulder.  In fact, it felt good, relaxing and soothing, so that when she did
become aware of it, she didn't particularly want it to stop.  But Harvey's
conversation was getting disturbing.  All this talk about another man made her
uneasy, and she wanted to change the subject. "Would you like another drink?" she
asked at length. "No, I'm fine.  You just sit back and relax.  You're all tense
and nervous.  Just close your eyes and forget about everything and in a little
while you'll feel better." Peterson's voice was almost hypnotic and Betty found
herself lying back comfortably against his shoulder, her eyes closed, as she
tried to blank all her problems out of her mind. Harvey continued to reassure
her, soothing her in gentle tones.  He looked down at the still quivering redhead
and felt desire welling up inside him.  It looked like he'd have to go to a lot
of trouble to get this one, but it would be worth it, he knew. He could barely
restrain himself when he had seen her naked body that day he took the shots.  She
was far better than he'd envisioned.  She was like a sculptured goddess, only a
living, breathing one.  They all did--that was no surprise.  But maybe he could
really use her for Galaxy.  She was definitely out of the ordinary, and maybe,
after his plan had worked, he'd see if she was still interested in working.
Casually, his hand dropped lower still until it came into breathtaking contact
with her palpitating breast.  He sensed that her breath quickened for a moment
when he touched her nipple through her dress, but she didn't say anything.  He
could feel the little bud hardening under his touch, burgeoning with obvious
desire.  Her whole breast seemed to strain against his palm, and lay warm and
throbbing in his hand. "Oh don't ... Please, Harvey ..." Betty mumbled half
incoherently, but without making an attempt to stop him. "Now just relax, honey,
and don't worry about a thing," Harvey told her, his hand falling again to come
to rest on the bare expanse of her thigh.  He felt it quiver under his touch as
he began to crawl with his fingers up along the sensitive, sleek surface,
eventually slipping in under the hem of her dress. "No, Harvey, please ..." Betty
objected again, and made a feeble attempt to stop the approaching hand.  Her
brain was reeling and she couldn't seem to get control of her senses. Harvey's
hand was on her thigh, she knew, and it was also true that it felt good there. 
She wanted him to move it away, to leave her alone, but on the other hand, she
didn't know how to stop him. If only she hadn't drunk the second gin ... she told
herself upbraidingly.  But she had to make an effort to stop him before he went
any further.  It was wrong to let him do this, but it felt very good, relaxing
and soothing ... Carefully, Harvey edged his fingers upward until at last they
came into contact with the thin nylon crotchband of her panties. It was wet! "Oh
noo ..." Betty moaned, making a futile effort to clamp her thighs together. "Now
honey," Harvey said again, "this is going to make you feel good.  You'll really
like it and it'll calm you down and you won't be nervous or tense anymore ..."
Relentlessly, his searching fingers slipped under the narrow legband of her
panties and came into tantalizing contact with the first straying wisps of
curling pubic hair.  Betty jerked back as if stung, her eyes flying open in
horror. "NO, HARVEY, PLEASE DON'T!" she shrieked, trying to pull away from him. 
But his fingers still clung between her moistened thighs as his arm, curved
around her shoulder, restrained her. "Now Betty, you like my fingers stroking
your cunt, don't you?" he said, his voice low and husky.  "Don't you?  You can't
deny it ... or you would have stopped me before now ... before I got my hand
inside your panties!" "No!  I ... I ..." Betty whimpered, words failing her. "I
know you like it, Betty," he went on inexorably, "you're all hot and wet, I can
feel it ..." A crimson blush spread over Betty's face.  She did like it, there
was no denying it.  And now Harvey knew.  He knew that she liked it.  Oh dear
God, what must he think of her? "It's only natural, honey," Harvey went on. 
"You're starved for love.  Doug has been neglecting you and it's time someone
paid some attention to your beautiful, deprived body ..." Betty couldn't stand it
any longer.  She was past fighting. She felt defeated already defeated by
Harvey's smooth words, which were all too true, and by the tumult which was
raging in her body. Yes, her own flesh was mutinying--crying out for love and
attention.  And she couldn't fight it! Harvey sensed her inner struggle and felt
a surge of victory. It won't be long now, he told himself cheerfully, but I just
hope that Jean won't come back too soon and spoil it all!  It had been Jean's
idea in the first place to pretend that the book was lost, so as to have an
excuse to leave him alone with Betty, but Harvey was afraid that she wouldn't
realize how hard it was to win over the frustrated young wife.  Well, he'd just
have to take a chance ... His questing fingers inched forward another millimeter
and came into exhilarating contact with the pulsating outer folds of her
tremulous pussy.  He could feel the slight throbbing of the swollen outer lips,
fringed with a thin line of hairs, and then, without hesitation, he plunged his
middle finger up into the moist darkness of her unresisting cunt. "Aaaaagggghh
... Nooooo ..." Betty sobbed helplessly, wriggling her buttocks in a frantic but
belated attempt to resist. She was in a daze that she couldn't break out of. 
With one part of her mind, she realized that Peterson was stroking and caressing
her vagina, but with the other she realized nothing but the fact that he was
comforting her when she badly needed it, and offering solace where Doug had
failed to do so.  And she couldn't refuse that.  She needed it too badly. Harvey
continued to probe the quivering wet folds and creases of her sensitively
squirming vagina, plunging deeper into the warm, open flesh.  Her thighs spread
now a little of their own accord and he began to ease down her confining panties,
leaving them dangling above her knees.  Her dress was bunched up above her hips,
leaving the tingling plane of her loins exposed and unprotected.  Ruthlessly, his
fingers played in the velvety softness of her openly spread cunt, making her
gyrate and twist with mingled feelings. Suddenly, his middle finger came into
contact with the hard little knob of her clitoris and began instantly to
titillate the erogenous little bud. "Ooooohhhh ..." Betty sighed, unable to
believe that little wisps of pleasure were curling around deep inside her.  She
was beginning to enjoy Peterson's lewd fingering!  At first, she didn't believe
it possible, but her writhing moaning body was ample evidence.  Her brain, with
all its feeble, warning messages was totally ignored, and sensual rule was the
order. "Mmmmmmnnnn ... aaaaahhhh ..." she gasped again, giving herself over
completely to a greater power.  She was devoid of resistance now.  She had no
option but to acquiesce, and it was obvious that her body did not mind this
submission. Involuntarily, her pelvis began to grind rhythmically up against his
nakedly swirling fingers, forcing the desire-ridden flesh against the
pleasure-giving digits. Harvey's fingers, darting and flicking with expert
agility began to tickle gently at the tiny fluted inner lips which surrounded the
pulsing, star-shaped entrance to her helplessly aroused body.  Betty mewled with
new excitement as they brushed tantalizingly against the delicate, fragile flesh,
and then, with sudden abruptness, he plunged them into the wet, clinging cuntal
sheath. "AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH ..." Betty sobbed in mingled surprise and pleasure, and
immediately, the soft, tender inner walls began to milk voraciously at the
dipping fingers, closing in on them like a velvet glove.  Harvey worked his
fingers smoothly, expertly in and out of the hungrily welcoming channel in
simulation of fucking, filling the room with lewd, wet, sluicing sounds. Betty
was like a madwoman now, twisting and flailing wantonly on the sofa, her thighs
lasciviously splayed, her softly rounded buttocks grinding incessantly into the
yielding cushions.  Hoarse cries of lust escaped her lips, but Betty was beyond
caring.  She knew that Jean might return at any moment, but it was of no
importance.  All that mattered was the unbelievable spasms of pleasure which were
shooting through her with lightning speed, emanating from the fiery, tingling
zone of her wildly excited vagina. Harvey's fingers were wonderful givers of
unbelievable pleasure as they plunged recklessly into the openly presented mouth
to her defenseless belly.  Urged on by the rising tide of her passion, she
pounded her turgid little clitoris against his hand while at the same time trying
to coax the driving fingers further and deeper into her greedily clasping cuntal
sheath. She was near to climaxing and she knew that she couldn't hold out much
longer.  Pleasure, in maximum force, was building up to such a pitch inside her
that she knew she must cum soon or explode.  And, at last ... "Oh God!  I'm
cumming!  I'm cumming!  Oh God, I'm cumming!" she chanted insanely, her body
flailing and thrashing out of all control as wave after wave of undefinable
pleasure washed over her like breakers on a beach, tossing and tumbling her in
their foaming wake as they brought her to new heights of ecstasy each time.  She
had never experienced anything like the tremendous power of this release and all
her tension seemed to pour from her body, leaving it limp and exhausted, only to
be tightened as a new flood of pleasure cascaded over her.  Her head seemed to be
going round and round and she felt as if she was in some kind of limbo, waiting
to be put back together again with the body which was feeling so much sensual
excitement. Finally, the tremors began to subside, leaving her quivering and
trembling like an aspen leaf.  The room began to spin around her and she
gratefully sank back on the sofa, only vaguely aware that Harvey was leaving. 
She wanted to call him back, but she didn't quite know why, but in a few seconds,
he was gone, and she was left alone with the dying embers of her fiery orgasm.


The next few days were sheer torture for Betty.  Every waking moment, her brain
was taunted with images of her wanton submission to Harvey Peterson's lewd
fingering, and her ears seemed to be filled with her lascivious moans of
pleasure.  She couldn't seem to focus her attention on anything, and she couldn't
shake loose from her brain the horrible memory of how she had acquiesced so
easily to the modeling agent's manipulation.  But even that wasn't the worst
part, as far as Betty was concerned.  If she had merely allowed Harvey to stroke
her genitals, she wouldn't feel such self disgust and loathing, but she had
enjoyed the lewd act to such an extent that she could not forgive herself.  The
very basic tenets of her upbringing balked at this betrayal by her body, and a
cloud of humiliation seemed to follow her wherever she went. The one thing that
gave her a slight feeling of relief was that Doug didn't seem to notice anything.
 Betty was sure that her guilt was written all over her face, but luckily she had
already been in bed when Doug had come home that night.  But during the next few
days, although she didn't really see too much of him, he didn't make any comment
and Betty decided that the best thing to do was to forget the whole business, if
she could.  But that proved more difficult than she imagined.  Her conscience was
haunted by the enormity of her transgression, while her body continued to
experience a kind of buoyant exhilaration which she had never felt before.  At
times, she even found herself thinking almost longingly of the sensual tremors
which had cavorted up and down her spine when Harvey had been caressing her
vagina, but she quickly put those illicit thoughts out of her head. Since that
episode with Peterson, she found that she just couldn't face the morning without
the soothing additive of brandy in her coffee, and usually she had several cups
of that.  It was at moments like that, when her body was relaxed and untense,
when she began to feel the recollective murmurs of pleasure.  The strong liquor
seemed to dull her brain, and with it, her ever- sharp conscience, while at the
same time, it honed the edge of her senses and emphasized the physical
frustration she felt. It was weeks now since Doug had touched her--ever since
that time when he had taken her rectally--and her body, grown accustomed to a
regular diet of love-making, was beginning to feel the deprivation.  She felt
that that was the reason for her complete and total release that day when Harvey
had stroked and fingered her vagina.  But right now, she knew she was in a
quandary.  Things were going from bad to worse in their marriage, and she hardly
saw Doug anymore.  Now this contact with Harvey looked like it was falling
through, and she couldn't rely on being a model as an out from her problems.  She
didn't know whether she wanted to hear from Peterson again.  On the one hand, she
didn't know if she could face him again, after her wanton display of lust just a
few days ago.  But, on the other hand, the future he had woven for her as a
part-time model was a very enticing one, especially in her forlorn, desperate
state, and it would be just terrible if she had to forget all about it now.
However, she didn't think that Harvey would get in touch with her.  How could he,
after what he had done to her?  But Betty just didn't know what to do.  Doug
didn't show signs of wanting a reconciliation, and although she really didn't
want to, she would make the first effort, if she wasn't afraid of being rebuked.
That was the trouble--Doug just didn't seem interested any more. It was obvious
that he didn't care what she was doing or feeling, and there was no telling how
long that state of affairs would go on.  And, she reflected bitterly, the root of
the problem lay in Doug's despicable behavior.  If he hadn't brutalized her that
night, if he hadn't forced her to submit to his disgusting anal intercourse, she
probably would never have listened to Harvey Peterson for a moment.  It was only
because she was so upset and depressed over that incident that she went along
with Peterson ... and where it had lead her? Tears brimmed her eyes and trickled
down her face.  She had finished her second cup of coffee and brandy, and she
still didn't feel an better.  It was now four days since she had seen Harvey and
had allowed herself to be so disgustingly used, and things seemed to be getting
worse. Dear God, what am I to do?  Betty wept helplessly, unable to hide her
misery and unhappiness any longer. At that moment, the phone rang. For a long
second, Betty stared at the instrument, hardly able to believe that it was
actually ringing.  Probably a wrong number, she told herself, and then with
alacrity, she leaped up and grabbed it. "Hello!" she said breathlessly. "Hello! 
Is that Betty?" It was Harvey! The blood drained from Betty's face and her head
started to reel. "I hope you're not busy today," Harvey said quickly, "because
I've got an assignment for you tomorrow." "An assignment?" Betty echoed, her
brain racing. "Yes, at 9:30 tomorrow morning.  And you're to wear their clothes,
so you've got to go for a fitting today.  You'll be paid half your hourly fee for
that.  Can you make it at 12 noon today?" Betty was speechless.  Her thoughts
divided abruptly in her dazed brain and she didn't know what to say.  She had an
assignment, tomorrow!  She just couldn't believe it ... but how could Harvey call
her like that, without any word or reference to what happened. "Well, can you
make it?" Harvey barked impatiently. "Harvey, I don't ..." Betty stammered, still
not knowing what answer to give.  Oh God, she'd love to take the job, but
shouldn't she just disassociate herself completely from Peterson? "Look, let me
put it this way.  The client, Nor-Dansk Furniture, are only just sold on you. 
They originally picked a blonde because of the Scandinavian image, but I sold
them on the idea of a redhead as a gimmick.  Now if you don't want it, or are you
going to be choosy, they'll jump for the blonde!" No, I couldn't bear to lose it,
Betty thought immediately. There's no harm in it ... I probably won't see Harvey
again for a long time, and it is just what I want ... a chance to break into
modeling. "Okay, Harvey, I'll be there ..." Betty said breathlessly. "Good girl,"
Harvey said, and gave her an address in one of the best sections of town.  "All
right, I'll see you at noon," he said as he hung up. For a moment, Betty was
stunned with her good news.  She was going to be a model!  A glance at the clock
told her she had only an hour to get there, and she hurried into the bedroom. 
Then she recalled Harvey's parting shot.  He'd be there!  Trepidation filled
Betty's heart.  Harvey would be there, and she'd have to face him again. But she
wouldn't back out.  She had to see him again sooner or later, and besides, there
was bound to be other people there. No, she'd have to take the plunge.  After
all, that was what life was all about.  What happened a few days ago was all a
mistake. If Harvey tried anything like that again, she'd let him know where she
stood ...

Harvey Peterson, noting that it was almost noon, poured himself a drink and
offered one to Jean.  Betty would be here at any moment and if she saw that they
were already drinking, she'd accept one more willingly.  She really swallowed
everything I told her, he congratulated himself.  Still, he had to admit that he
was feeling a little nervous.  But that was not surprising.  Betty was one hell
of a woman and he didn't want to slip up.  Of course, the client had been
thrilled when they saw the shots of her and had wanted her immediately but Harvey
thought he'd throw that bit in about the blonde to make the bait more appetizing.
 With hesitant types like Betty, you couldn't be too careful.  He hadn't really
been surprised at Nor-Dansk Furniture's wild response to the shots, and had
hedged that he had to see if she was available. Well, if things worked out his
way this afternoon, he just might get Betty to do the ad for them.  After all, it
would keep her happy and would result in a nice, fat fee for him. At that moment,
the doorbell sounded and Harvey knew that it was Betty.  She was wearing a very
elegant pantsuit and appeared poised and calm.  But she seemed surprised that
there was no one else but himself and Jean there. "In cases like this, when we're
in a real hurry, Jean and I just pick up the outfits from the client and fit them
here in my apartment.  It saves time and a lot of trouble." Betty thought the
explanation plausible and greeted Jean warmly.  There was a sort of rapport
between the two women and Betty was genuinely glad to see the older woman again.
"Any problems with fitting, Jean can handle it," Harvey assured her, and then
offered her a drink. "But shouldn't we ..." she began hesitantly. "A quick drink
will loosen you up," Peterson told her and poured her a double Scotch. Betty
accepted it and sat beside Jean on the sofa. "The ad is to be built around an
elegant sitting room, with Nor-Dansk furniture the main attraction.  But they
want to have a very stunning woman, who is obviously getting ready to entertain
some guests, to adorn the furniture.  And that's where you, and these dresses,"
pointing to several long evening gowns, "come in!" "They're beautiful!" Betty
gasped in awe. "The client thinks you're far more beautiful," Harvey said
truthfully.  "Now if you're ready, Jean can help you into one of the dresses. 
Try the silver lame one first." Betty, when she stood up, found that she almost
lost her balance and had to cling to the other woman for support.  Oh God, what
did I drink? she wondered as she stumbled over to the other room.  Her head
seemed to be reeling and she was glad that Jean was helping her, as the dress was
tight and close-fitting.  But when it was finally on, it looked as if it had been
molded to her body.  Jean wouldn't let her wear a brassiere, and the low, deep
"vee" in front emphasized her voluptuously full breasts.  There was a split,
almost thigh-high in one side and the shimmering material sparkled and glinted as
she moved.  Jean wouldn't allow her to wear panties or stockings, either, saying
that unless they were specially made, they would spoil the lines of the dress.
Betty had felt strange about stripping completely naked in front of the other
girl, but Jean didn't even seem to notice.  She added a few touches to Betty's
mane of tawny hair and then ushered her out to where Harvey was waiting. Betty
had forgotten almost about her incident with Harvey because he had been so
pleasant, and so businesslike, but now, as she stepped into the living room, clad
in the sexy, provocative dress, the memory of her submission and arousal came
flooding back and crimsoned her face with embarrassment.  Harvey's eyes seemed to
devour her body, feasting on her sensual cleavage, riveting on the smooth sweep
of her graceful hips. "Pretty good ... pretty good ..." he said at length, after
he had instructed her to turn slowly around.  "But I think the black might be
better!" "I think this one is pretty spectacular," Jean said, and Betty had to
agree with her. "No, let's try the black," Harvey insisted.  "After all; you
don't want to outshine the furniture!" Jean moved towards Betty and began to pull
down the zipper of the dress. "But ... but ..." Betty said startled, as she felt
the edges of the dress fall away from her back.  "Let's go into the other room!"
she finished quickly. "Why, honey?" Harvey sniggered.  "I already know all your
secrets ..." Betty felt a fiery blush creeping up her face.  What did he mean? 
He had seen her body naked, when he had taken those photographs, but was he
referring to the other day when he had fingered her pussy? "I'd rather change in
the other room," she said meekly, turning towards the door. "Oh, don't be silly,
Betty," Jean said briskly, easing down the dress, revealing Betty's proudly
upswept breasts, the nipples already stiff and erect. "Please, Jean," Betty
began, tears starting to her eyes. "You've got nothing to hide, have you?" Harvey
said, his voice vaguely sneering. Betty felt as if she had been turned to stone,
and she stood motionless as Jean slipped the dress down over her hips.  Numbly,
she stepped out of it, and stood there, naked and shivering. "Go get that black
number, will you, Jean?" Harvey asked. "Why, where is it?" Betty asked, suddenly
not wanting to be alone with Harvey. "It's just out in the car; I won't be a
moment," Jean replied, and Betty was aware of mounting panic.  This was just like
the other time, when Jean had left on a sudden pretext. Betty had been left alone
with Harvey ... She turned wild, staring eyes on him, as if seeing him for the
first time. "Don't worry," Harvey said smoothly, "Jean'll be back in a moment. 
In the meantime, just relax.  Sit down and make yourself comfortable ..." As if
in a daze, Betty sat down on the sofa, and as she did so, Harvey moved very close
to her, and then, he was kissing her! For a moment, she was too surprised to do
anything as his lips bruised down on hers, and his tongue shot between her
unresisting teeth.  His arms were tight around her and his jacket felt rough on
her bare, naked flesh. "Stop it!  Stop it!" she said at last, recovering her
equilibrium, desperately drumming at his chest. "Why should I?" Harvey leered. 
"Just relax and you'll enjoy it!" "Leave me alone!  Get away from me or I'll
scream!" Harvey laughed, a coarse, triumphant laugh. "What if someone comes
running after you scream?  What then?" Betty stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"They'll see you sitting here, completely naked, and what'll they think?" he
elaborated gleefully. Realization dawned on Betty.  He had trapped her ... but
what was he going to do to her? "What do you want from me?" she said tonelessly.
"Just do as I say, honey, and everything will be all right," Harvey replied, his
hand casually fondling the frustratedly trembling mound of her breast. "And if I
don't?" Betty asked defiantly. "Mmm ... your precious Doug might be very
interested in those shots I took of you a couple of weeks back ..." "You
wouldn't!" Betty hissed disbelievingly.  "You wouldn't show them to my husband!"
"Sure I would ... if you don't go along with what I want!" "And what do you
want?" Betty asked in a frail whisper. "Why, nothing more than a taste of that
sweet little cunt of yours!" Harvey said lasciviously, his hand dropping to the
flat plane of her stomach, and further still to tangle among the first straying
wisps of her red pussy hair. Betty's head swam.  Oh God, it couldn't be true. 
What had she let herself in for? "Now honey, you might just as well do as I say
... after all, you might enjoy it!" "Enjoy it?" Betty hissed vehemently.  "Never!
 I'd rather die!" "Well, well, listen to who's talking.  It seems to me as if you
didn't mind too much when my fingers were rummaging around in your cunt a few
days back!" Harvey spat furiously. Betty's face blanched and self-loathing welled
up inside her. He was right, of course.  She had enjoyed his lewd handling.  What
must he think of her?  No wonder he thought he could get away with anything with
her ... "Please, Harvey," she began again in a different vein.  "let me go.  It
doesn't matter if I don't get the job.  Only don't touch me, please ..." "You
don't seem to realize, honey, that I hold all the cards. Whether or not you get
the assignment depends on me, and don't you forge it.  And as for not touching
you, remember that the evidence against you looks pretty condemning ... those
nudie shots, you here naked with me now ..." Betty closed her eyes to blot out
the picture she portrayed. Foolishly, she had let her imagination run away with
her, had let herself be persuaded into posing nude for this unscrupulous man. Now
he had her in his power ... and there was nothing she could do. She gasped
suddenly as she felt his fingers dip between her creamy thighs, and felt the
first searing contact between his hand and the gently pulsing outer flesh of her
trembling vagina. "Oh nooo ... stop ..." she gasped helplessly as his fingers
continued to probe and search among the wet, velvety folds, probing deeper and
more insistently with each passing second. Futilely, she tried to clamp her
alabaster-white thighs together, but it was no use.  He was the one in control;
he had her in his power. "Now, baby, you can't tell me you don't like it ..."
Harvey leered, his eyes lighting with lust as he stared down at the naked woman.
His words cut Betty to the quick.  Because she couldn't deny it.  Her body was
responding in exactly the same way as it had a few days ago ... she was beginning
to get aroused from his illicit fondling.  Although her brain reeled with the
enormity of what was happening, and disgust and utter mortification flooded
through her veins, her body reacted unquestionably in a sensual, wanton tremor of
delight.  She wanted to deny it, to cry out that he was wrong, that she wasn't
enjoying it, but she couldn't.  Because she was, and he knew it!  There was no
use fighting it.  He had her in his power not only by virtue of the weapon of the
photographs and his threatened blackmail, but also by the force of pleasure he
was giving her with his nakedly swirling fingers.  Involuntarily, her thighs
crept farther apart, revealing the moist pink slit of her quivering pussy to his
marauding digits.  Pleasure surged through her, lifting her up on to a magical
plane of ecstasy, and her whole body took on a rhythmic churning as low mewls of
pleasure flowed unchecked from her mouth. "Open your eyes, honey, and look see
what daddy has for you ..." Harvey rasped huskily, and Betty unconsciously
responded to his summons. A startled gasp escaped her lips as she stared at the
huge, throbbing shaft of his fully erect penis, held obscenely in his free hand. 
She couldn't take her eyes off it.  She hadn't imagined that anything could be so
big.  It looked powerful and strong, and it was an angry red color from the blood
that was pumping lustfully through it. "No, please, Harvey," she whimpered
piteously, frightened at the grotesque size and apprehensive of what was to come.
At that moment, the door opened, and Jean walked in. Oh thank God! Betty gasped
silently.  Now he'll have to stop ... Jean will help me, and I'll just put on my
clothes and leave, and never have to see Harvey again.  Oh thank goodness, she
came back in time ... "Well, Harvey, you certainly didn't waste any time!" Jean
said cheerfully, staring at the naked outstretched redhead on the sofa, and
glancing briefly at the hard, heavy protuberance of Peterson's cock. Oh God, what
does she mean?  Why isn't she doing something? Betty thought wildly. "I'm a fast
worker, you know that, Jean," Harvey laughed, fondling his lust-engorged penis
between his fingers. "I'm sure you got lots of help," Jean retorted.  "Betty
looks as if she's really hot for you!" Betty felt like screaming out No!  No! 
It's not like that! But her mouth was dry and no words would come.  She couldn't
believe that Jean thought she wanted this.  But what else could Jean think?  She,
Betty, was lying spread-eagled on the couch, the openly receptive slit of her
vagina lewdly presented, while Harvey hovered above her, his blood-inflated penis
outstretched and ready.  Betty's last avenue of retreat slammed shut.  No one
could help her now.  If she appealed to Jean, the other woman probably wouldn't
believe her.  There was nothing she could do! She drew in her breath sharply when
she felt the hard, unyielding flesh of Harvey's poised penis nudging at the
softly quivering outer lips of her vagina.  She tried to draw back, but the couch
confined her.  She couldn't close her thighs, because Harvey was crouched up
between them. "Nooo, Harvey, please ..." she begged softly, and then ...
"AAAAGGGGHHH ... NOOOOOOOO ..." she wailed aloud as Harvey pushed relentlessly
forward, straining almost unbearably the fragile tissues of her cuntal hole.  He
hesitated then, for a moment, gathering his strength, pushing the burgeoning head
of his hunger-distended shaft past the protecting, petal-shaped opening. "OH GOD
... YOU'RE KILLING ME ..." Betty sobbed as the giant rod cleaved into her
unprepared flesh, forcing its way up into the dry, clinging passage.  Without
hesitation, Harvey continued to plunge forward, the hard, long tube of his cock
splitting the cringing inner walls with brutal intensity. "Uuuuugggghhhhnnn ...
aaaaahhhh ..." Betty whimpered, her thighs cruelly spread, her futilely resisting
vaginal sheath assaulted unmercifully by the lust-bloated hardness of Harvey's
hard-driving penis.  He'll tear my vagina she thought fearfully as he finally hit
bottom, the heavy, sperm-laden sac of his testicles slapping lewdly against the
upraised crevice of her buttocks.  She could feel the rubbery head nudging
against the tender tip of her cervix and she wanted to cry out against this
unwanted ravishment. The knowledge that Jean Wembley was watching her debasement
added to her humiliation, and she wondered again how she had let herself be
manipulated in this way.  Oh God, what a fool I am, she thought bitterly, biting
her lip as Harvey began to withdraw, pulling little pink tendrils of fragile
pussy flesh out with his rock-hard shaft as it withdrew.  Then he surged forward
again, this time burying his long, lunging cock to the hilt with one deep, hard
stroke. "Aaaaaarrrrhhh ... uuummmmppphhhh ..." Betty gasped again as all the
breath was forced from her body.  But at last, her feminine juices began to
secrete, and Harvey was able to begin a rhythmic sawing in and out.  His hands
tightened on her hips, holding her firmly in place as he labored over her.  He
drove nakedly up between her widespread legs, sinking his passion- distended
shaft completely in her moistly clinging cunt, and then withdrawing almost
totally, until just the hard, mushrooming head was still imbedded in the tight
pussy-hole. And then the thing that Betty had never believed possible, happened. 
At first, she did not believe it; couldn't bring herself to accept the reality of
what was happening.  But after a few moments, she just couldn't hide it any
longer.  It was completely obvious that she was beginning to enjoy being fucked
by Harvey! A deep shuddering tremor shook her body and then it began a rolling
churning of its own violation, little sparks of pleasure burst into raging flames
deep between her legs and her whole body was bathed in a warm flood of intense
arousal. At first, out of deep mortification, she tried to hide it, tried to
still the quivering between her legs.  But her desire and passion was more
powerful than her will power and she couldn't hold back any longer. "Mmmmmmnnnnn
..." she sighed, spiraling her pelvis upward to receive Harvey's deep inthrusts,
her heated cunt flowering open in eager acceptance.  Cautiously, her hands crept
up and encircled Harvey's neck, pulling him hard down on her palpitating breasts,
and in a daze, she moved her mouth up to clamp on his, her tongue hungrily
flicking between his teeth.  Passion raged out of control in her love-starved
body, and she locked her ankles around his lower back, and clung to him with a
new voraciousness.  Suddenly, she couldn't seem to get enough of his
pleasure-giving male body. She wanted to infuse every part of him.  The heady
muskiness of his heated flesh assailed her nostrils and made them flare with
new-found pleasure, and her being and senses were united in a quest for ultimate
satisfaction. All doubts and fears were forgotten in the mad rush of sensual
excitement.  She had no idea it could be like this. Certainly it never was with
Doug.  She had never responded like this, never felt the wild tremors of pleasure
she was feeling now. Even the fact that Jean was watching her wanton behavior
gave her an illicit thrill, and nurtured an exhibitionistic streak inside her
that she never knew she possessed.  She didn't care anymore that this lascivious
coupling with a man who was not her husband might be wrong.  She only knew that
somehow he had the wonderful key that was unlocking her uninhibited responses,
and somehow she couldn't feel that making use of that key was wrong. Their bodies
were slapping wetly together in rising cadence. They clung to each other in
mutual desire, their flesh warm and heated with passion.  They bucked and rocked
as one, united where his lust-maddened cock drove incessantly up into the
hungrily clasping depths of her eager cunt. "You sure know how to fuck, Betty
..." Harvey gasped between clenched teeth, and his lewd praise gave her an added
tingle of excitement.  Fucking.  Yes, that was what she was doing, fucking
another man ... and she was enjoying it. Betty's thoughts took on a kaleidoscopic
image of how she must appear, naked, perspiring, flushed with lust, her head
thrown back, her long russet hair streaming over her voluptuously curved back. 
Now, in one moment, all her thoughts and feelings seemed to converge on the
pivotal point there between her legs, and she knew instantly that she was almost
ready to climax.  Her first real orgasm, and it was with another man ... not her
husband!  But Betty didn't care who or how she was getting this unbelievable
pleasure.  The main thing was that she was at last about to receive it.  That she
wasn't frigid, like she had so often feared she was.  No, she was a full-blooded
real woman, and Harvey was the only one to discover it. Suddenly, all rational
thought was extinguished as a great rush of warm sensual excitement flooded over
her body, making her feel as if she was drifting on the tide of some warm, calm
sea. "Ooooooohhhhh ... I'm cumming!  Oh God, Harvey, I'm cumming!" she shrieked
suddenly, not recognizing her own passion-distorted voice.  The words seemed to
hang in the still air above her for a moment before crashing down to resound and
echo a hundredfold in her ears, reflecting the rise and fall of the tiny waves of
multiple pleasure crashing around inside her feverish body. "Ooooohhhh! 
Ooooohhhh!  Ooooohhhh!" she sobbed helplessly, her curvaceous young body
undulating with the force of her continuing orgasm. In the back of her brain, she
realized that Harvey was climaxing too, and then he was pounding against her with
unbelievable fury, battering his loins against her upraised openly-spread cunt.
"I'm cumming too!  Keep fuckingg ... Aaaaaghhh ..." Betty felt the first spurt of
seething hot sperm as Harvey called out wildly, and it jetted in a thick stream
into the hidden recesses of her hungrily milking pussy.  Greedily, her inner
sheath clutched at the flowing fluid, absorbing it all in its heated darkness,
and Betty was filled with a strange, satiated peace. The hot, white sperm that
poured into her helplessly flooded little belly seemed to infuse her with warm
relaxation, and she was able at last to lie back, breathing deeply and heavily
with complete satisfaction. At last, Harvey's twitching cock began to deflate
inside her wet, steaming passage and slipped harmlessly from between her legs,
leaving her empty once more.  But she was changed now. She'd never be the same
again.  Harvey had truly liberated her, something that her own husband couldn't
do ... and she wouldn't have missed this for anything.  Now, come what may, she
was forever free from the shackles of prudery, and she felt a real debt of
gratitude to Harvey, which she knew wouldn't easily be erased.



Doug was beginning to regret that he had called and invited Selma for lunch.  Not
that he didn't want to see her, of course, but she was so happy and excited,
looking on this as an extra special treat, because usually they only saw each
other in the evening.  Now he dreaded telling her the real reason for wanting to
see her.  They were sitting lingering over liqueurs and Doug knew he had to take
the plunge. Drawing a deep breath, he began. "Selma, I've something to tell you!"
Selma looked at him in surprise, amazed at his intensity, but immediately she
sensed that something was wrong. "What is it?" she said apprehensively. "I ...
we've got to stop seeing each other!" It was said, but instead of feeling relief,
he was aware only of misery, and the look on Selma's face didn't help any,
either. "What?" she hissed, her voice low and angry. "I just can't see you any
more ..." "Well, this is an interesting new development," Selma said icily, her
fingers toying with the tiny glass.  "Your charming wife must have found out
about us.  Is that it?" "No, it isn't," Doug gulped.  "But to tell the truth, I'm
afraid she might, and I've hurt her enough without this." "So your conscience is
beginning to bother you at last!" Selma snapped, heedless of the other diners in
the restaurant. Doug colored.  He'd decided to break off with his mistress
several days ago, but couldn't find the courage to do so.  He didn't really want
to stop seeing her, but he had been involved with her now for nearly two months,
and in all that time, things had gone from bad to worse with Betty.  He knew he
had started it all by fucking her in the ass that one night, and things hadn't
been the same since.  At first, he noticed that Betty was depressed and
irritable, but over the past couple of weeks, she seemed suddenly to have
changed.  She said she had a new part time job, and bought new, fashionable
clothes, and she seemed hardly to be home at all.  Now that the tables were
turned on him, Doug didn't like it at all and decided that he'd rather have the
old Betty back ... even if it mean severing his relationship with Selma. "So it's
all over," Selma breathed angrily, her eyes flashing.  A cold rage was seething
through her and she was aware of a consuming hatred for her lover.  She had
really enjoyed her affair with Doug.  He was one of the best lovers she'd ever
had and she had reveled in his admiration.  He seemed to be really crazy about
her too, and she had even begun to entertain thoughts of something permanent ...
"You bastard!" she hissed viciously.  Men were all the same. They didn't mind
having affairs, and told their mistresses how fabulous they were, but when the
little woman at home lifted her finger, no matter how nagging or difficult a wife
she might be, they all went running back with their tails between their legs.
"Selma, everyone is looking at us," Doug said, his face reddening. "I don't give
a damn who's looking or listening," Selma spat, her voice rising.  "You can't
just throw me over like this.  I deserve something better." "I'm really sorry,"
Doug said earnestly, "but ..." "Don't "but" me, you lousy rat," Selma shrilled,
"you just want to go back to that bitch of a wife of yours, and after all you
told me about her, how she was frigid, how she was a nagging slut ..." Doug felt
ready to sink into the ground.  Everyone in the restaurant was looking at them
and Selma's voice was strident and perfectly audible. "C'mon, let's get out of
here," he said sharply, his fingers digging into her forearm.  With relief, she
responded to his order, and meekly followed him out of the restaurant.  That's
one place I'll never go to again, Doug vowed as he stepped out into the light.
"Now look, Selma, I'm sorry we have to part like this," he said threateningly,
"but if you're going to make another scene, I'm going to leave you right here on
the pavement." "Go on, run, you goddamned bastard," she railed, "but don't think
you're getting off so easily.  I'll pay you back for leaving me in the lurch like
this, don't you worry!" Furious, Doug turned on his heel and walked away, leaving
Selma's threats to disintegrate behind him in the street's busy atmosphere.

"Okay, spread those long legs of yours, honey," Harvey rasped.  "Daddy's got a
new treat for you today!" Betty lay back luxuriantly on the huge bed in Harvey's
apartment and obediently parted her long, slender legs.  The deep bed felt like
soft billows of cloud, and Betty was only too glad to give herself over to her
lover's attentions.  She had grown accustomed to him over the last month or so,
or rather, her body had. She didn't know what she'd do now without Harvey.  He
seemed to fill her days and undoubtedly made life worth living again.  In fact,
her entire life seemed to have undergone a radical change, and it was all due to
Harvey.  The most important thing of all, of course, was the fact that he had
succeeded in awakening her sexually, and actually continued to arouse and excite
her.  For, after that day when he had tricked her into submitting, she found she
looked forward to when she could see him again.  Harvey himself was just as wound
up about her, and managed to see her almost every day.  Usually Jean was with
him, and after awhile, Harvey introduced Betty to threesomes.  At first, she was
shocked, but when she found that the fun was tripled, she began to like being
involved in a trio. Another fringe benefit of being involved with Harvey was that
she was actually a working model!  Harvey managed to get her plenty of jobs,
starting, of course, with the Nor-Dansk commercial.  She really enjoyed her work,
and although it was only part time, she still found it tiring.  However, her
hourly rate was very good and she was able to buy lots of new clothes.  The only
dim spot of the horizon was Doug.  Things just weren't working out and she got a
depressing, unhappy feeling every time she thought about her husband.  But I
won't think about him now, she told herself, instead I'll think only about Harvey
... Harvey settled himself between Betty's widespread thighs and stared at the
tempting furrow of her fully exposed vagina.  He could see the pink flesh
glistening wetly between the slightly swollen outer lips, and he could just
barely make out the burgeoning tip of her clitoris.  Carefully, he placed a
finger and thumb on each fleshy fold and gently drew them apart, baring the
petal-shaped opening, pulsing softly between the purplish, fluted inner lips.  He
heard Betty draw in her breath quickly, and then before she had time to realize
what was happening, he reached down and flicked out with his long, wet tongue.
"Aaaaahhh!  Aaaahhh!  AAaaaaggghhh ...!" Betty sobbed, flailing her hips wildly. 
She hadn't realized until the very last moment that this was what Harvey had in
mind, but it was too late now to stop him.  So this was the special treat!  She
had never let him do this to her, even though he had often wanted to, and she ha
seen him do it to Jean.  But somehow, to her, it was wrong, almost perverted, and
she hadn't allowed it.  Now, Harvey was kissing her down there! Harvey continued
to swipe at the moistening pussy split with his pink, darting tongue.  He could
taste the sweet cunt-taste of her pussy and inhaled her feminine perfume as he
bent eagerly to his task.  Tentatively, he furled his tongue and began to dip it
into the folds and recesses of her sensitively squirming pussy, probing deeper
and harder into the velvety softness.  He swirled it round and round, holding her
in place by a vise-like grip on her thighs. "Nooooo dooon't ..." Betty wailed
helplessly, still unable to accept the illicit tonguing.  But even as she
protested, she became aware of new, but familiar sensations tingling deep inside
her.  Her body, honed to a fine edge of pleasure over the past weeks, reacted
instinctively to this new variation, and began to respond to the sensual flicking
of Harvey's deft tongue. Slowly, her cream-white thighs began to spread further
apart, revealing more and more of the gleaming wet pinkness of her hungrily alive
cunt.  A long tremor curved her spine and sent little shock-waves of pleasure
curling out to the very ends of her fingers and toes and she was aware of a red
blush suffusing her face.  Involuntarily, she flexed her trembling vaginal mound,
forcing the searingly sensitive flesh of her pussy against the furiously working
length of Harvey's wet tongue. "Mmmmmmmnnnnn ..." she sighed ecstatically as
spasm after spasm of mounting pleasure convulsed through her.  Oh God, it was
good, this licking and slavering at her cunt.  She had no idea it could be so
good ... why had she waited so long to experience it? Harvey sensed her
acceptance with excitement.  He knew that she couldn't hold out for long, not the
way she was now. Sometimes she hardly seemed like the same woman to him.  She was
absolutely voracious now that he had awakened her, and her appetite was equal
only to his own.  He felt proud of his protegee and was glad that she was
accepting this oral form of lovemaking. Diligently, he continued to thrust his
stiffened tongue into the darkness of her writhing pussy, until he came into
contact with the burgeoning bud of her erect little clitoris.
"Aaaaaarrrrrgggghhhh ..." Betty sobbed, her hips grinding helplessly against the
bed, as he trapped the erogenous little bud between his teeth and began to
titillate it with his swirling tongue.  He could feel it hardening and stiffening
under his swipes, and could feel the furious pulsating of the blood through it
too.  Then, finally, he released it and searched lower with his tongue, trailing
it along the fluted edges of the inner cunt-lips, brushing playfully against the
star-shaped pussy-hole. Betty's body was moist with perspiration, and she was
mewling incessantly.  Her ivory thighs clamped viciously against Harvey's face,
holding him against the tingling plane of her vagina as the sensitive flesh of
her pussy rimmed his nose and mouth.  Her nipples felt taut and stretched in
passion, and her lips were dry and parched.  She seemed beset by a feverish
shuddering, and knew that what she was feeling now was a completely new kind of
excitement, totally different from anything she had experienced before.  She
moaned again as she felt Harvey's expertly darting tongue flick eagerly at the
clasping edges of her pussy orifice, tantalizing them almost beyond belief. Then,
suddenly, Harvey stiffened his probing organ and without hesitation rammed it
headlong into the churning passage of her cuntal sheath. "Oh God ...
AAAARRRRRHHHH ..." Betty cried as she flailed her buttocks wildly as a reaction
to the new, weird sensations. Almost immediately, her inner channel began a
hungry clasping and milking of the buried tongue, almost pulling it out of its
moorings in its greedy attempt to assimilate it completely. Harvey continued to
thrust wildly in imitation of fucking, stabbing with the pseudo-phallus, rotating
it in the grasping softness of her wet, steaming pussy. He worked slavelike up
between her outstretched legs, his face bathed in moisture, his furiously licking
tongue slavering as he sought to give her the maximum pleasure.  He could feel
the tremors that were emanating from her frenzied, lust-demented cunt vibrating
throughout the length of her creamy, lithe body, and her entire frame shook and
undulated with the convulsive spasms of her passion. Betty was in ecstasy.  Her
incoherent moans filled the room and her hips were thrashing wildly against the
bed, her inner vaginal passage contracting rhythmically around the wet, slippery
tongue sawing in and out.  She was sure that she must climax soon, but yet, she
wanted this incredible experience to go on forever, even though she knew she
couldn't bear the unbelievable intensity if it did.  Vaguely, she was aware of
the door opening, and realized that Jean must have come back.  The thought that
perhaps the other woman was watching her in this lewd, wanton pose did not
disturb her; in fact, it gave her a thrill of added illicit pleasure. Sometimes,
she could hardly believe that she herself was the same person as she used to be. 
Her mind had seemingly enlarged to accept all variations of physical pleasure,
and she was ready for anything.  Harvey had taught her that anything that felt
good and exciting between two or more people couldn't be bad, and she agreed with
this tenet.  She just couldn't understand how she could have allowed herself to
go on as she did before, living a sort of half-life.  She was aware of new
movement on the bed, and her brain quickly assumed that Jean had sat down beside
them to get a better view. But, in the next minute, events happened so quickly
that Betty wasn't aware at first of what was happening.  She realized with sudden
apprehension that Jean was moving closer to her, and then she was aware of a
moist, pulsing warmth over her face, which moved inexorably closer, until ...
Jean was actually sitting on her face! For a moment, Betty's breath was suspended
and she froze into a state of shock.  She had never realized that anything like
this could happen, had never visualized it happening to her! Betty didn't know
what to do.  Unreality seemed to have taken over, but Harvey kept on licking and
sucking at her heated, openly throbbing cunt, and the sensations of pure,
passionate arousal continued to surge through her.  But apart from that, the
inescapable fact was that Jean was astride her face, her wet, pulsating pussy
firmly planted on her mouth!  Her soft, supple thighs gripped Betty's face in a
strong grasp, holding her immobile.  Oh God, what am I going to do now? she
thought helplessly, her reason deserting her for a long moment. She hovered
mindlessly on the edge of indecision.  But a sudden, piercing thought assailed
her.  Why stop now?  The revelation burned into her brain like a red-hot arrow. 
Why hesitate now about licking Jean's cunt, after all you've been through?  Why
not pass on to the other woman, who was after all, her friend, the wonderful
pleasurable sensations that Harvey was arousing in her?  Why not indeed?  With
lurid suddenness, the idea of kissing another woman's pussy while her lover was
slavering and groveling between her own legs, struck Betty with the force of a
mailed fist. And, without giving herself time to think, she reached out
tentatively with her tongue and dabbed at the throbbing pink openness of Jean's
quivering pussy.  It felt and tasted amazingly good and Betty was rewarded by a
sobbing moan from Jean, who began to screw her moistly pulsing pussy down on
Betty's now-eager mouth.  Again, Betty reached out with her tongue and began to
swipe carefully at the wetly squirming flesh, dipping her organ deeper and harder
each time into the velvety folds.  She began to savor the sweet taste of the
other woman's vagina, and inhaled the exotic fragrance of her redolent cunt. She
stiffened her tongue and burrowed it incessantly into the sensitively writhing
flesh, tasting the first flow of excitedly secreting feminine juices which misted
down over her wet, flushed face.  Eagerly, she sought out the hard little knob of
the other woman's clitoris and titillated it cunningly between her teeth, and
then began to nibble excruciatingly at the soft little inner lips which lay like
a protective collar around the clenching star-shaped hole of her grasping pussy.
Betty sucked and licked ravenously at Jean's grinding pussy, just as Harvey,
spurred on by the sight of his assistant astride his mistress's face, slavered
lewdly between Betty's cream-white, moisture-drenched thighs.  Jean's softly
clenching buttocks were like flaccid mounds around Betty's chin and her ivory
smooth thighs were clamped in a vise-like grip on either side of her face.  Betty
moaned with mounting pleasure into the secret warmth of Jean's tingling cunt as
the other woman's hands reached down and began to caress and fondle her
palpitating breasts, tweaking the hardening little nipples between her fingers,
adding to the tremendous swells of pleasure swirling through her. Betty was
reaching new heights of undreamed-of pleasure.  She reveled in taking part in
such a lascivious trio in a way she had never experienced before, and the idea
that she was actually licking and kissing another woman's pussy filled her with
perverted excitement.  She had never dreamed that she, Doug's wife, would ever
get involved in anything like this, and certainly not so wholeheartedly.  But as
she told herself again and again, she was a changed woman now, and her body had
become accustomed to all kinds of bizarre sex. Jean was moaning and mewling like
a wild animal above her, bouncing around on her face with quickening jerks, and
Betty realized that she must be approaching orgasm already.  Then, suddenly,
Betty felt the other woman's body stiffen almost like a rock, and then she seemed
to explode in a million fragments. "Aaaaaahhhh ... I'm cumming!  Cumming! 
Cumming!" Jean sobbed, her body twisting and flailing almost out of control.
Betty's face was drenched with her flowing secretions and she thought she'd
suffocate from the frantic grip the other woman kept on her pussy-covered face.
But even as Jean was moaning with passionate abandon, Betty felt the familiar
spasms begin to contort her own body.  Harvey redoubled his efforts, forcing his
exhausted tongue again and again into the frenetically clutching sheath of her
hungrily welcoming vagina, swirling it around with maddening deftness. And then,
for Betty, too, the moment was there. Her cries of intense pleasure were buried
and muffled in Jean's still throbbing pussy, as her whole body flailed and
gyrated like a top, her thighs viciously glued to Harvey's face, grinding her
lust-swollen pussy against his pleasure-giving mouth. Wave after wave of almost
unbearable pleasure assailed her, and the full force of her warm orgasmic juices
cascaded down over Harvey's furiously working mouth.  Jean had already fallen
back on the bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps.  It seemed to Betty as if the
room was revolving around her and she was aware of nothing but the tingling
between her legs, which still erupted into sparks of searing ecstasy which
showered through her aroused flesh and burned into the very core of her being.
When at last, her body was quiet, but still warm and flushed, she released her
thigh-hold on her lover, and collapsed back on the bed beside the woman to whom
she had given pleasure equal only to that which she herself had received.


Doug felt strangely nervous as he pulled up in the driveway, and the sight of the
strange car did nothing to soothe his apprehension.  It was three days since he
had broken off with Selma, and he had decided to make a real effort to patch
things up with Betty.  But she seemed so busy lately.  She didn't come home until
late in the evening the first two days, and last night, she had been so moody and
preoccupied that he hardly dared broach the subject. A definite change had come
over her, and Doug just couldn't figure out what it was.  It certainly wasn't
just her new job or the new clothes she bought.  She just seemed like a different
woman.  More mature, and more sensual somehow.  But what was the use of this
dynamic new change if she persisted in ignoring him? So he had determined to take
the afternoon off from work and try to get to the bottom of things.  He figured
that she'd be at home this afternoon, and after they had solved the problems that
lay between them, he'd take her out to dinner. He had decided that he wouldn't
mention his affair with Selma, not right now, anyway.  He didn't think that Betty
would understand, and it might make her distrustful of him.  No, far better wait
until their relationship was well and truly cemented again.  He didn't recognize
the automobile in the driveway, but shrugging, decided that it probably belonged
to a girlfriend of Betty's.  Whoever owned it, he just hoped she didn't stay too
long.  He had plenty to say to his wife--in private. Letting himself in the back
door, he was surprised at how silent the house was.  He felt sure he would be
greeted by feminine laughter and the tinkling of coffee cups. "Betty?" he called
softly, wondering where she was.  A quick glance out at the backyard convinced
him she wasn't there.  Then he heard it.  A low, almost indiscernible moan.  And
it seemed to be coming from the livingroom!  The door was closed and Doug hurried
over to it.  His hand grasping the handle, he hesitated. Had he imagined it? 
Maybe Betty was in there, having a private discussion with one of her friends. 
He'd look foolish if he stalked in there.  But there it was again!  That muffled
moan, almost a sob, that seemed as if someone was almost in pain! And then, Doug
felt as if he had been turned to stone when a loud, impassioned voice rang out
clearly. "Oh God, Harvey, keep licking my cunt like that!  It's driving me
crazy!" The blood drained from his face and he stared in unadulterated horror at
the still-closed door.  Who was in there, and who had called out like that? 
Certainly it wasn't Betty--he'd know her voice anywhere.  But who was it? 
Strangers who had broken in and who were now lewdly fornicating in his living
room? Doug had to know.  He had to find out what was going on. Firmly turning the
handle, he pushed open the door to his livingroom and stepped inside. His mouth
hung open in undisguised horror and his eyes seemed to glaze with disbelief as he
stared at the lascivious sight that met his incredulous gaze.  For a long moment,
he had difficulty untangling the maze of wet, naked writhing bodies on the floor.
He didn't recognize the dark-haired woman who was stretched out, naked and flat
on her back, her legs obscenely spread to allow a stranger, a man he'd never seen
to grovel lewdly between them. But he had no difficulty recognizing the long
slender alabaster body stretched out half-way down the length of the stranger's
rangy frame.  The tawny red hair was unmistakable, but he had never seen a look
like the one that wreathed her face as her lips ovalled around the thickly
pulsating shaft of the penis that was sunk halfway into her mouth.  It was Betty,
his wife, who was sucking the stranger's cock! Doug's head was reeling in
disbelief.  He just couldn't believe that his wife, Betty, was actually taking
part in this wanton threesome.  That she was actually licking and sucking another
man's cock while that man slavered and kissed some other woman's pussy.  He just
couldn't believe it! He stared in horrified fascination at the salacious scene.
The dark-haired woman seemed transported with ecstasy, and he could see the wet,
pulsating furrow of her pink slit gleaming under the deft strokes of the
stranger's tongue.  Her face was masked with pure lust, and her hands were
tangled in the man's hair, pushing his face harder down against the burning,
writhing flesh of her lust-demented pussy. Doug's disbelieving eyes traveled down
the length of the lascivious human sex-chain, and came to rest again on the
heavy, blood-inflated rod that was pumping lewdly between his wife's rounded
lips.  Her eyes were half-closed and there was a look of unadulterated pleasure
on her face as she continued to move her shapely lips up and down the length of
the pulsating hardness rammed between them.  Her hand was cradling the heavy,
sperm- bloated testicles with a loving gesture, while her other hand was embedded
firmly in the nest of dark pubic curls at the base.  She was kneading with a
rhythmic squeezing on the squirming scrotum, completely engrossed in her obscene
task. Doug's head swam with his incredulous emotions.  Nothing had prepared him
for the shock of seeing his wife like this.  The actual fact of her infidelity
still hardly registered with his numbed brain and he was almost sure that at any
moment he would wake up and find gratefully that it was all just a bad dream. Who
was this man whose cock she was sucking; And who was this other woman who was
displaying her vagina so openly to be kissed by the man?  Doug continued to stare
at the nightmare scene.  He wanted to run over there and tear them apart, stop
this disgusting act that was going on in his own living room. But he couldn't! 
He was rooted to the spot, immobilized by mingled disgust and incredulity.  He
was mesmerized by the rhythmic suckings that were transpiring a few feet away
from his amazed eyes, and his ears were filled with the lewd, wet, slavering
sounds.  The three naked bodies were intertwined completely and seemed to
undulate with a single, overwhelming tremor.  Words of rage and horror choked in
his throat as he stood there, staring, powerless to do anything else. "Ooooohhhhh
... I'm going to cum!" The dark-haired woman called out suddenly and Doug stared
as her entire body stiffened, and her back arched up off the floor. Her head was
thrown back and her hands were like claws digging convulsively into the man's
tossed hair.  And then, she was shook with a hundred tiny spasms and Doug thought
he could see every nerve ending quivering.  Loud passionate moans rent the air as
she ground her buttocks down on the floor and forced the desire- demented plane
of her fiery pussy against the frantically licking tongue that was gallantly
burrowing into the viscous tunnel of her cunt. Doug thought, not without
sympathy, that the stranger would surely suffocate from the tight grip her thighs
held on his face, and his nose and mouth seemed to be completely covered by the
streaming, pink flesh.  At last, the desperate pounding grew less and Doug saw
her release the man's head, and she finally lay back, obviously completely
satiated and exhausted on the floor.  The man's face was moist and flushed, but
Doug saw something else there, too.  Hi visage was masked with passion, and it
was obvious that he was almost ready to climax as well.  Then the enormity of
what was about to happen assailed Doug.  He was going to cum in his wife's mouth!
 His hands doubled into fists and an angry red blush crimsoned his face.  But
just as he was about to rush over and stop this revolting travesty, the man's
voice halted him. "Oh Christ, nobody sucks cock like you do, honey," he moaned,
his whole body quivering with pleasure. The laudatory words stung Doug like a
whip.  That stranger was praising his wife ... nobody sucks cock like you do ...
and a feeling of rage welled up in him.  She never sucked my cock! he told
himself furiously.  Instead she sucks that goddamn bastard's ... Painfully, Doug
recalled all the times he had tried to get her to kiss and lick his penis, but
her horror, her obvious revulsion had stopped him from forcing her any further.
And now ... his eyes stole back to where his wife was milking voraciously on the
jerking rod of hardened male flesh between her lips.  He just couldn't believe
that it really was his wife who was licking that guy's cock to the point where he
was just about ready to climax ... "Oooooohhhhh ... keep suckinggg ..." Harvey
suddenly called wildly, and then his pelvis was thrashing uncontrollably against
Betty's face, and he was forcing his huge, distended penis halfway down her
throat, his hands like steel talons forcing her mouth further down on his
lust-inflated shaft. Doug stared almost uncomprehendingly at the scene.  Oh God,
she'll choke, he thought involuntarily as he watched the first convulsive
ejaculation of the man's sperm into his wife's mouth. He could see her cheeks
hollowing and filling, and knew that she was swallowing the other man's hot,
seething sperm.  A knot of rage and envy gnawed at his stomach as he watched his
wife receive the stranger's lewd male offering in her mouth, and he wanted to go
over there and punch that goddamn bastard to a pulp.  But still he hesitated,
held in thrall almost by the incredible scene he was witnessing.  Betty's mouth
continued to suck wildly on the rapidly deflating penis, and a look of
disappointment flitted across her face when it became obvious that she had milked
him dry. Finally, it slipped helplessly from between her wet shining lips and
Harvey collapsed in a crumpled heap on the floor, while Betty looked longingly at
his limply reclining cock. Suddenly, Doug couldn't stand it any longer.  His
fists raised threateningly, his face a fiery apoplectic red, he rushed into the
room. "What the fuck's going on here?" he bellowed, staring aggressively at the
three naked forms on the floor. Betty stared in dumbfounded horror at her
husband.  Her face blanched with fear and she wished the ground would open and
swallow her up. "D-Doug ..." she breathed in panic, hardly daring to look at him.
"Yes, it's me, your husband ... or have you forgotten all about me?" he sneered
angrily, taking a step towards her. But Harvey casually interrupted. "So you're
Betty's husband," he said languidly. "Yes, I am, and who the hell are you?" Doug
whirled around, his eyes blazing. "Let me introduce myself," Harvey said suavely,
"I'm Harvey Peterson, and this is my assistant, Jean Wembley!" Doug stared at the
man in undisguised disgust and then shouted furiously, "Well, Harvey Peterson,
you're going to get a busted jaw from me right now." Betty stifled a gasp.  She
had never seen Doug in such a rage, not even when he had taken her anally, and
she was desperately afraid of what he would do. "Hey, take it easy, old man,"
Harvey pleaded, "there's no need to get in a panic ... nothing to get upset
about!" "Nothing to get upset about!" Doug expostulated.  "I come in here and
find my wife sucking your cock while you eat this other broad's cunt!  And you
tell me to take it easy!  Why, I ought to break your goddamned neck!" Doug's face
was white with fury and he was dancing with rage. But Harvey seemed unconcerned. 
Betty, her heart pounding, called softly to her husband. "Doug, honey, please
..." "Don't you "honey" me," he said scathingly, "you two-timing bitch.  How many
men have you sucked off right here in my own living room?" "There's no need to be
so vulgar, Mr. Fletcher," Harvey drawled, casually picking himself up and
reaching for his clothes. "You keep out of this," Doug threatened, "and leave me
to deal with this scheming little whore my own way!" Betty cringed pitifully
under her husband's invectives.  Oh God, why did he have to find her with Harvey?
 He'd never forgive her, never!  Their whole marriage was in ruins, and it was
all her fault.  Oh in God's name, why did she have to jeopardize it like this?
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, you goddamn little slut?" Doug
ranted, standing over her like a menacing giant.  Betty was afraid to look up,
afraid to face her husband's wrath.  Shame and mortification cloaked her in
scarlet, and tears rushed to her eyes.  And then, an unfamiliar voice rang out,
startling all four people in the living room. "Now let's hear your story, Doug!"
Doug whirled around in disbelief, his eyes blazing. "S-Selma!" he gasped, unable
to believe the evidence of his own eyes. "Yes, it's me," the lovely blonde
drawled, coming into the living room.  "And now maybe, Mrs. Fletcher," she smiled
at Betty, "you'd like to hear what your husband has been up to!" "Doug, who is
this woman?" Betty said uneasily, only just getting over the shock of the
unexpected interruption. "I'll tell you who I am," Selma said, casting a
threatening look at Doug. "Please, Selma," Doug begged, fear clutching at his
throat. "I'm Doug's mistress!" "Oh no!" Betty gasped, tears trickling down her
face, unable to stand the truth of what she had heard. "Or at least I was, until
three days ago," Selma amended, pleased with the result of her announcement.
"Well, well, what an interesting new development," Harvey said, looking eagerly
over the voluptuously curved blonde.  "I didn't know your husband was getting
some nookie on the side, did you, Betty?" "N-no, I didn't," Betty said in a small
voice.  She couldn't bring herself to look at her husband, let alone at his
beautiful mistress. "Yes, Doug and I have had a lot of fun these last two
months," Selma went on inexorably, "but tell me one thing, Doug," "W-what's
that?" Doug said, his face ashen. "How come you told me your wife was frigid and
unresponsive? It looks to me as if she is a real hot little number!" Betty gasped
audibly at the girl's effrontery.  But it wasn't her fault.  It was Doug's.  Oh
God, what did he tell that girl about her? "You're right about that, Selma,
believe me," Harvey interjected.  "It looks as if Doug has been mistaken all
along. But I must congratulate him on his taste, both in mistress and wife!"
Nobody paid any attention to Harvey's last remark.  Doug was standing, his head
lowered, his hands hanging loosely by his sides.  Betty was huddled in a cringing
heap on the floor, and Selma was staring speculatively at Harvey.  Jean was
calmly picking up her clothes. "Why don't we leave the Fletchers alone for a few
moments," she suggested easily, leading the way to the bedroom, "I'm sure they
have a lot to talk about!" Harvey and Selma agreed, and Doug and Betty were left
alone in the living room.


For a long moment, there was complete silence.  Doug made the first move. "Betty,
honey ..." he began tentatively, his voice soft and hesitant. The gentleness of
his tone was too much for Betty; she dissolved into tears, her shoulders shaking,
her face covered with her hands.  In a moment, Doug was beside her, cradling her
in his arms. "There, there, don't cry, baby ... it's all right now," he soothed,
pulling her to him.  Somehow, the knowledge of her infidelity didn't matter quite
so much when it was shown in perspective with his own misdemeanor.  He knew, deep
down, that he had been wrong to berate her over her transgression without
mentioning his own, and was also sure that if Selma hadn't come in just then, he
would not have revealed his affair to his wife. But Selma had been the last
person he expected to see.  He knew she was upset over the ending of their
affair, but he never dreamed that she'd go to this length to get revenge.  He
figured that she must have called the office and found that he had gone home
early, and had decided to follow him in the hopes of a confrontation with Betty. 
But she was probably just as surprised as she was to find Harvey and Jean there
as well. "I'm ... I'm sorry, Doug," Betty sobbed, clinging to her husband. 
Shivers trembled her body and she couldn't stop crying. It had been so terrible
the whole encounter.  First of all, the shock of being discovered by Doug when
she was involved in a lascivious threesome with Harvey and Jean, and then the
crowning blow of discovering that Doug had been unfaithful to her, just as she
had been to him. "And I'm sorry, too, baby," Doug said heartfeltedly.  "I guess
it's all my fault, really," he confessed shamefacedly.  "You see, I first met
Selma that day when I ... when I did that terrible thing to you ... that's why I
was home so late!" So that was the reason for his terrible temper, Betty thought,
he was feeling guilty! "But you see," he went on tentatively, "I never would have
been interested in Selma if things had been going right between us!" "I know,"
Betty agreed, "and a lot of the fault is mine, too. I see that now!" "You do?"
Doug said disbelievingly. "Yes, and it took Harvey to point it out to me ..."
"What's that son of a bitch got to do with it?" Doug raged defensively. Betty
laughed, feeling some of the strain melting away from her. "I'm glad to see
you're jealous ... that you still have some feeling left for me!" "How can you
say that ... if you only knew how I felt when I walked in and saw you ... sucking
that bastard's cock!" "I do know," Betty insisted, "after all, Selma was pretty
honest about your relationship." It was Doug's turn to feel embarrassed. "It's
all right, darling." Betty said soothingly.  "I can understand why you got
involved with her.  I wasn't much fun for you, frigid as I was!" "Well, you
weren't ..." Doug protested, not knowing what to say. "Don't worry, I realize now
what an idiot I've been," Betty smiled.  "To tell the truth, I don't know how you
put up with me these two years.  But all that's changed now, thank goodness--and
Harvey!" She saw her husband's face darkening and put out a restraining hand.
"Now don't go getting uptight about Harvey.  Whether or not you know it, you owe
him a debt of gratitude." "What!  Gratitude for--" "For making a woman out of
your childish wife!" Betty finished firmly. "It certainly makes a man feel like
shit when he finds out that his wife has to go to another guy to get
satisfaction!" Doug said bitterly, turning away. "But don't you understand,
darling," Betty insisted, "for some goofy reason, I just couldn't let myself go
with you.  I needed the jolt of an illicit affair to set my wheels in motion."
"How's that?" Doug questioned suspiciously. "Oh, I don't rightly know," Betty
replied honestly.  "I just know that it works.  And as far as I'm concerned,
that's the main thing.  How or why doesn't mean a damn!" Doug had to admit that
she was right.  Of course, it irked him to think that he had failed to arouse her
completely, and that she had responded fully for the first time to a complete
stranger. But he knew he'd get over that in time.  As she said, the main thing
was that she was finally released from her prison of prudery, and was free to be
exactly what she was--a fully liberated woman.  But a nagging doubt remained. 
Suppose she only responded with Harvey ... or some other man.  Suppose things
were just the same between them?  What then? "Betty, why don't ..." he began,
wondering if he should suggest what he had in mind.  But Betty seemed preoccupied
with the sounds coming from the next room. "Let's go tell the others we've made
up," she said happily, leading him towards the bedroom, completely oblivious to
the fact that she was stark naked.  Quite a change from the Betty I used to know,
Doug smiled to himself as he followed her.  He decided to hedge his plan of
trying out whether the transformation that had come over his wife applied to
making love with him as well, and go along with what she wanted. She threw open
the door of the bedroom, and then stopped short.  Doug, too, gave a gasp of
surprise as he stared at the lewd goings-on on the bed. Another lascivious
threesome had formed, Doug saw, with once more, Harvey taking a leading role in
events.  He was skewering wildly between Selma's widespread legs, while Jean was
astride the blonde's face, her legs wrapped around her shimmering, golden head. 
He experienced a momentary stab of jealousy as he saw that Harvey had monopolized
Selma--first his wife, and now his mistress--but as he watched, he was aware of a
curious feeling of excitement.  It was a far different feeling than that he had
felt when he had discovered Betty sucking Harvey's cock, but this was different. 
Betty and he were reconciled, and he could look on this new development with
something approaching composure.  Not that he was likely to feel that for long,
for already he could discern that his prick was beginning to grow along his leg,
pressing against the confining fabric of his pants. Betty was watching the scene
with avid interest.  She couldn't help feeling disconcerted by the sight of
Selma's lovely golden body, her flesh soft and buttery.  Her husband's mistress
was beautiful, without a doubt.  And obviously, Harvey thought so too.  Betty
could see the familiar length of his lust-inflated shaft pumping rhythmically in
and out of the clasping wet tunnel of the teenager's eagerly receptive cunt, and
Betty could just barely catch a glimpse of the moistly gleaming pinkness as
Harvey withdrew.  Jean, too, was obviously enraptured by the newcomer. Her head
was thrown back, her hard, upswept breasts pointed and excited.  The muscles in
her thighs were standing out like whipcord as she maintained her thigh-grip on
Selma's buried face and bounced up and down incessantly as shivers of pleasure
stabbed at her tingling pussy. Betty's eyes traveled back to her lover, an saw
that his hands were clutched convulsively onto Selma's gleaming gold skin,
holding her inexorably in place.  His body was bathed in perspiration and he
didn't even seem to notice that Jean was also getting her share of fun from
Selma.  He continued to fuck mercilessly between the long, tapering legs which
were now curling around his lower back in a possessive gesture, and Betty could
see the flexing and unflexing of his hirsute buttocks as he drove his thick, hard
shaft to the hilt between the softly swollen flanges of Selma's openly throbbing
cunt. He raised her pelvis a few inches off the bed from the force of his
tremendous thrusts, and Betty could see the sperm-laden sac of his balls dangling
lewdly beneath his pile-driving cock.  She was surprised that she didn't feel any
jealousy as she watched the lust-inciting scene.  She actually didn't mind
watching her lover fuck her husband's mistress.  Certainly the sight excited her,
but it didn't make her envious.  She had Doug back again and he was all she
wanted.  Turning her head slightly, she was aware that her husband was sidling
over towards her.  A quick glance downwards told her that he was aroused by the
lascivious scene as well.  She could see the growing protuberance of his
burgeoning cock, pushing against his pants, and with a swift movement, she
brushed her hand lightly over it. "Oh God, honey, don't do that!" Doug hissed
between passion- clenched teeth. "Why not, baby?" Betty smiled, pressuring the
swollen organ once more with her sensitive fingertips.  "It's big and hard, isn't
it ..." she mused, her eyes half-closing. Doug stared at her in amazement.  He
could hardly believe that she was talking this way, let alone touching his cock
in that provocative gesture.  He stared hard at her face and was astonished at
what he saw mirrored there.  Desire was written all over her lovely smooth
features.  Desire ... but who was it for! His heart pounding painfully, he looked
questioningly at her. "Ooohhhh ... get naked, honey ... quick!" she gasped, her
fingers tightening around the throbbing hardness of his erect prick. Doug could
hardly believe his ears.  He stared uncomprehendingly at his wife, afraid that he
had misunderstood her. "Oh baby, let's fuck ..." she pleaded, her eyes full of
longing. Doug needed no second urging.  His hands began to tear at his clothes,
pulling off his shirt, ripping down his pants.  He was urged on by the lewd,
sibilant sounds coming from the bed where Selma, Harvey and Jean were thrashing
around in an obscene tangle of sucking and fucking.  His blood-swollen penis
leaped up happily when he freed it from the confines of his trousers, and his
heart gave a painful thud when he saw Betty's eyes lighted on it, widening with
interest and excitement. In a moment, he made a wild rush at her, lunging towards
her with all the tremendous intensity of his desire.  He caught her in a tight
bear hug, knocking her off balance and they both tumbled to the floor, unaware of
everything but the heated, passionate closeness of their bodies. He ground his
mouth down on hers in a demanding kiss, and was thrilled when her lips parted
obediently to admit his probing tongue.  Her own wet tongue fenced and swirled
around his lewdly dabbing tongue, whipping up a froth of their mutual saliva. 
Her arms tightened around his neck and she clung to him, her body straining
eagerly against his.  He could feel the hardness of her turgid little nipples
digging into his chest, and she flexed the hair-covered mound of her vaginal
"vee" against the nudging shaft of his palpitating cock. From across the room,
they could hear the mounting moans of pleasure, and knew that the trio were near
to climaxing.  Somehow, the knowledge of the crescendoing of excitement only a
few feet away from them spurred on their own, and Betty's thighs parted of their
own volition in obvious invitation to her lust-maddened husband.  Immediately, he
guided the huge, blood-bloated head towards the small quivering opening to her
body, and placed against the delicate flesh. For a moment, he held it there,
savoring the fragile, almost ephemeral contact between her soft feminine vagina
and the throbbing hardness of his heated male cock, and then he couldn't hold
back any longer.  He would know soon if his worst fears were to be realized.  He
would discover if Betty could respond to him as completely as she did to Harvey. 
Drawing in his breath, he placed a hand on either of her soft, quivering inner
thighs and drew them further apart, revealing the full pink moist slit of her
waiting pussy. Then he surged forward with all the strength that was in his
desire-driven body. "Aaaaaaarrrrgggghhhh ... Ohhhhhh ..." Betty wailed as she
felt the giant instrument cleave through the futilely resisting cuntal sheath,
and forge its way into the darkness of her moistly giving vaginal depths.  But
Doug, driven on by a lust-maddened demon that was guiding his instinct, ignored
her moans and continued to saw relentlessly into the clinging passage. "...
uuugggghhhhhhnnnn ..." Another painful inch. "Aaaaaahhhhhh ... uuummmppphhhh ..."
And then, he was in! "Oh God, you're too big!" Betty gasped, hardly able to
breathe.  She felt completely stuffed with her husband's big, thick cock, and it
seemed to be expanding inside her with every passing second.  She was sure it
would explode from the tight restricting pressure of her still-resisting cuntal
channel. Doug held it there for a moment, and then, slowly began to withdraw. 
Her smooth inner membrane was dry and unyielding and pulled out painfully as he
exited, and when just the burgeoning head was still tightly imbedded in the
squirming orifice, he plunged forward again, ramming it in with full force.  He
ignored the feeble resistance and sunk his pounding cock right to the hilt in her
helpless little belly. Without waiting, he began to establish a rhythmic sawing
in and out, holding his wife firmly by the hips.  He drove into her with deep
hard strokes, hitting bottom each time, his heavy, churning balls slapping lewdly
against the upraised crevice of her softly rounded backside, and then withdrawing
smoothly until just the hard rubbery head was still buried between her splayed
thighs. Her eager, grasping pussy finally began to lubricate, allowing his
pistoning cock to slip in and out with greater ease. As she became more
accustomed to his enormous girth, her hips took on a gentle undulation of their
own as they began to respond to the familiar movement.  She began to grind her
buttocks down into the floor, flexing her tingling cunt upward to receive her
husband's instroke.  Her full, voluptuous breasts were quivering, the nipples
hard and erect.  Her head was thrown back wantonly, her flame-colored hair
framing her lust-wreathed face like a blazing halo.  Her arms reached up and
wrapped themselves around his neck, and she bucked against him with increasing
rhythm, matching her thrashing with his frantic pounding. "Ooooohhhhh ... Oh God
yessss ..." she gasped through desire- clenched teeth as wave after wave of
pleasure washed over her, wearing away the grittiness of any resistance she might
have left to her husband's fucking. Doug was in seventh heaven.  This was beyond
his wildest dreams.  Betty was responding to him in a way he had never imagined
possible.  But he had often daydreamed about something like this happening, but
had never thought that it would be anything but a dream.  And now ... he could
hardly believe that the beautiful, sensually aroused woman, flailing and twisting
around wantonly beneath him, was his wife!  His prudish, frigid wife!  Well, that
Betty was gone, that was obvious.  She was truly liberated, just like she said,
and she had made him the happiest man in the world.  After this, he would never
need another Selma again--Betty was definitely enough for him! Betty was carried
away into a world of her own.  Her body was afire with pleasurable sensations,
and her brain was alight with joy.  She was fucking Doug, and for the very first
time in her life, deriving full, total enjoyment from it.  It was fabulous! Far,
far better than she had ever imagined, and much better than with Harvey.  Now
that the shame and fear of the confrontation had passed away, Betty was glad that
it had happened.  Otherwise, things might have gone on the way they were going
indefinitely, and their marriage might have been irretrievably wrecked.  But
thank goodness, things had come to a head and now she and Doug were free to enjoy
each other to the fun. Engrossed in her thoughts, and riding the crest of her
mounting pleasure, Betty failed to notice that there was a new movement on the
floor beside her.  She gasped in surprise when she felt an alien hand on her hip,
and wondered with a pang of panic who it could be.  She realized then that the
sounds from the bed had ceased and knew that they must have climaxed.  But who
was crouched beside her now?  She could hear the heavy breathing, and had a
moment of fear.  Was it Selma, come to separate her from her husband?  Then, just
when she was about to make an effort to discover who had joined them, a voice
whispered in her ear. "Betty!  Betty!  It's me, Harvey!" Harvey!  Oh God, what
was he doing here? His hands were racing over her body, trailing over her hips,
pulling and kneading at her buttocks. "Roll over, honey, don't forget Harvey!" he
leered, his voice rasping, and Betty froze with fear.  What did he mean?  What
would Doug say?  Before she had time to think any further, she found herself
being shifted, pulled over sideways, and then she found herself astride her
husband, his charging cock still pile-driving into the darkness of her hungrily
receptive cunt. Betty still couldn't figure what was going on.  Harvey was still
stroking and caressing her, but Doug didn't seem to mind. Now his hands were
fondling the flaccid half-moons of her ass, straining the soft pliant mounds
apart, pressuring the crevice of her backside almost beyond belief.  She didn't
know what to think. What was Harvey doing?  Why didn't he leave her alone with
her husband?  And then she drew in her breath with a sobbing gasp when she felt
the illicit probing of his finger at her secret anus. "AAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH ..." she
cried out with sudden vehemence when with brutal strength, Harvey rammed his
middle finger forward and inserted the tip into the tightly clenched sphincter.
Oblivious to her pain, he continued to burrow it into the rubbery giving passage,
forcing it in to the first knuckle.  Tears of agony started to Betty's eyes and
desperately she tried to wriggle her cruelly sundered ass to dislodge the
unwanted intruder but her frantic movements only seemed to encourage the
penetrating digit to enter further.  For a few second more, Harvey rotated it
inside the clinging sheath and then mercifully withdrew it, leaving Betty
consumed with relief. But her relief quickly turned to dread when once more she
felt him pulling apart the soft flaccid mounds, his fingers like pinpricks of
steel needles in the tender flesh. "Spread that little ass of yours, baby," he
leered lasciviously, "Harvey's comin' right in!" Oh my God no! Betty thought
desperately as he heard his salacious words, and then she felt the insidious
nudging of his already fully erect cock against the tiny rubbery opening.  Oh
God, he couldn't!  He just couldn't! she sobbed frantically in silence, trying to
pull back from the hard probing. But she was held immobile by her husband's
fucking in front and by Harvey's cruel grip in back.  She was powerless. She
closed her eyes in agony as the pressure on her cringing little rectum grew more
intense, and then ... "OH GOD STOP ... YOU'RE KILLING ME ..." she sobbed wildly
as all thought was blanked out by the searing sheet of pain which enveloped her. 
For a moment, she was aware of nothing but that incredible agony and then when it
cleared a little, she realized that Harvey had penetrated her anus with his huge
penis. "Oh please stop, Harvey," she pleaded again, "you're splitting me in two!"
But Harvey continued to force hi lust-swollen cock into the futilely resisting
rectal passage, splitting the sensitively squirming flesh unbearably, straining
the tight little anus beyond belief.  The sight of her helplessly pinned body,
impaled like a fluttering butterfly at the end of his brutalizing cock, gave
Harvey an added impetus of sadistic satisfaction and he surged forward until he
had sunk it to the hilt in her tortured back passage.  He held it there, tightly
encased by her inner membrane, and flexed it slightly, adding to the shivers of
pain already clutching at her tormented body.  Then he began to withdraw, finding
the return journey less arduous as her sorely tried anus began to secrete a
slight lubrication. He began a slow, rhythmic fucking in and out of her gradually
loosening rectum, and at last began to fuck in to her in time with her husband's
instrokes below.  The two driving cocks slammed as one into her twin passages,
brushing enticingly against each other through the thin dividing membrane, and as
the terrible pain cleared, Betty realized that something else was taking the
place of that all pervading sensation. She was beginning to enjoy it! She was
beginning to get excited by the crude anal fucking that her lover was giving her
at the same time as her husband was screwing into her in front.  Her body was
buffeted like a rag doll between the plunging cocks of the two men, and she began
to churn helplessly from the dual sensations.  She flexed her desire-ridden cunt
forward to receive Doug's deep inward thrust below and then arched her satiny
buttocks backward to welcome Harvey's hard, savage stroke behind. "Oooooohhhhh
yessssss ..." she moaned as she found herself soaring on the heights of
incredible pleasure.  She actually loved this double fucking, by her husband and
her lover at the same time.  She loved having them both drive into her in unison,
sinking right to the depths of her helplessly aroused belly, and then withdraw at
the same time, leaving her painfully empty for just a moment, before plunging in
again. Betty was filled with a wild, almost dizzy happiness.  She was excited as
she never was before, but the main thing was that Doug obviously didn't care
about Harvey anymore.  She was able to respond fully to him, and that was the
important thing.  She was free to enjoy his body to the full, and anything else
was only incidental.  This dual fucking she was receiving was symbolic, too, of
her new freedom.  She was irrevocably changed now.  There was no fear that she'd
fall back into her old ways after this, and she was glad to leave them behind.  A
whole new world was opening up to her and she couldn't wait to step into it. She
was jerked back to the present by the realization that Doug was going to cum. 
His body was flailing like a dervish beneath hers, and his palpitating prick was
diving into her greedily clasping cunt with new strength. "Oh God, I'm there! 
I'm cumming!" he cried suddenly, and then Betty felt her entire cunt being swept
aside by the rush of his orgasmic churning.  The first hot spurt of his scalding
semen flowed into her wildly dilating cunt, seeping into the squirming recesses
and creases.  Her hungrily milking pussy sucked voraciously on his hotly
ejaculating cock, and she was filled with ecstatic happiness by the knowledge
that she was able, for the first time, to really welcome her husband's
life-giving offering. Then she knew that Harvey, too, was cumming, and he was
mewling incoherently as he battered against her sorely-bruised buttocks. Betty
could feel the searing flood of his white, thick fluid as it spurted into her
forever stretched rectum, and then, she too, was there. "Aaaaaaahhhhhhh ...
Cumming!  Cumming!  Cumming!" she chanted insanely as her body was tossed and
bounced about like a buoy at sea by the united waves of her husband's and her
lover's passion. Incredible sensations enveloped her and she felt that her body
would never be the same again.  Flood after flood of almost unbearable pleasure
coursed through her, leaving every nerve ending tingling and unbelievably alive. 
Her head was gently spinning, and she felt that at any moment she might drift off
into a soothing limbo of eternal ecstasy.  More hot rivers of sensation washed
over her, but she barely felt them as she drifted off into a semi-daze of
satiation and security, sandwiched reassuringly between the satisfied bodies of
her husband and her lover.

*                           *    *    *

Doug was absolutely contented.  Around him, Harvey and Betty were resting
lightly, and somehow it all seemed natural that all five of them should be naked
and together in the bedroom.  As far as Doug was concerned, everything was fine. 
Betty was proving to be the wife he'd always dreamed she'd be.  Of course, he'd
been surprised, to say the least, when Harvey had joined in their lovemaking by
taking Betty in the ass, but he didn't really mind. Now that things were right
between himself and Betty, he didn't really care what happened. "Doug, darling?"
It was Betty, and she was moving closer to him.  There was a look of pure love in
her eyes and it thrilled Doug to see her looking at him like that. "Happy, baby?"
he whispered. "Yes ... but ..." "But what, honey?" he questioned solicitously. 
He hoped that nothing was worrying her; he didn't want this moment to be spoiled.
 But she seemed almost hesitant about confiding in him. "I'd ... I'd like to ...
to suck you cock!" she said at last. "What?" Doug gasped, unable to believe his
ears. "I'd like to suck and kiss your penis," she said more confidently.  "I've
wanted to for some time now.  Wouldn't you like me to kiss and lick it, like I
did Harvey's?" A recollection of how he'd seen her when he first came home this
afternoon flashed vividly into his brain and he saw again her ripe, full lips
ovalled lasciviously around the other man's thick, blood-heavy shaft. Yes, yes,
he wanted her to suck his cock like she licked and kissed Harvey's prick ... He
never thought he'd hear those words coming from her lips ... but today was a day
of complete surprises and it wasn't over yet. Already her fingers were creeping
downward and brushing tantalizingly over the semi-erect expanse of his already
stirring penis.  A dart of excitement shot through him at her enticing touch, as
she stroked and caressed the inert organ into growing hardness. "Oh God, Betty,
your hand feels fabulous on my cock!" he gasped, as he lay back on the floor and
stretched out luxuriously. Her deft fondling made the passion blood surge through
the awakening shaft and he could feel it rising up from the nest of tangled pubic
curls at the base. Betty stared in lewd fascination at the inflating rod and
continued to stroke and manipulate it with ever increasing confidence.  She
enjoyed seeing it grow to new life under her touch and wondered at the surge of
desire springing through. Then, holding it firmly by the stubby, thick base, she
bent down and flicked out with her tongue.  She swiped the full length of the
upstanding pole with her pink, darting tongue, and was rewarded with a convulsive
shudder from Doug, who moaned in abandoned ecstasy.  She started to paint the
palpitating prick with her warm saliva, running her tongue from the very top of
the hard, burgeoning head right down to the root which was buried in the forest
of wiry curls.  She dropped still lower and coated the churning sac of his balls
with her warm juices, and felt them squirm and contract under her tantalizing
touch.  Then she returned her attention once more to the rapidly expanding shaft.
She swirled her tongue around and around the pulsating cock, feeling the blood
flowing throbbingly through the veins. Cleverly, she flicked at the sensitive
part just under the rubbery head and trailed down the webbed underside, making
Doug gasp and moan with mounting pleasure. Then with deliberate slowness, she
enclosed the knobby head between her full, strong lips, taking it completely into
her mouth and closing around it like a tight rubber band. "Oh Christ, Betty,
that's it ... that's it ..." Doug moaned, his hands reaching up and pushing
Betty's face further down on his pounding prick.  She began to take more and more
of her husband's fully erect cock in her mouth, sliding her lips down the
throbbing length, until the hard burgeoning head was touching at the back of her
throat against her larynx. Then she began to suck and nibble on the imprisoned
rod, titillating it with her whirling tongue, stabbing it with her sharp little
teeth while all the time her other hand played provocatively with the writhing
sac of his scrotum.  She began to move her mouth up and down with increasing
tempo, sucking and slavering and licking with obvious hunger on the pounding male
hardness imbedded in her mouth. Doug stared down at her with lust-dimmed eyes. 
The sight of her, crouched on all fours up between his legs, added to his
pleasure.  He watched in rapt fascination as her red, curve lips ovalled greedily
around the thick girth of his penis and he wondered how she could take it in her
mouth without choking. Overpowering tremors of pleasure coursed through him and
his hips began a steady churning as he flexed his pistoning cock into her
voraciously sucking mouth. Harvey watched in utter absorption as Betty sucked and
licked her husband's cock, and involuntarily drew nearer to get a better view. 
Betty was proving to be more versatile than he had imagined and he was beginning
to feel sorry that she was reconciled with her husband.  It appeared to him that
now that they had made up, they would no longer look for outside distractions. 
Still, everything had its good side, and in this case, it was obvious that there
was a rapport between himself and Selma, not to mention between Selma and Jean!
Still, he was sorry that Betty no longer found him the chief attraction.  She was
a real fire-bomb, the kind he really liked, and she was really chewing and
sucking on that cock of her husband's, just like she had on his a little while
back.  But Harvey was also beginning to feel distinctly left out, and that was a
sensation that he definitely didn't relish.  But he was not to be put off and
carefully edged closer to Mrs. Fletcher's enticingly dangling buttocks. Betty,
engrossed in her task, got a start when she felt hands once more running like a
little insects over the satiny mounds of her buttocks.  She knew that it was
Harvey, accustomed as she was to his strong, firm grasp, and wished silently that
he'd go away. But her wish was not to be granted and again she felt the insistent
probing of his insatiable penis as it nudged at the tender flesh of her still
tingling vagina.  She couldn't suppress a moan, which muffled around her
husband's thrusting cock as Harvey began to guide his lust-swollen cock-head into
the moistly receptive orifice of her pussy.  And, in a moment, he had inserted it
into the velvety opening, his hands holding her firmly in place. "Aaaaaahhhhh ...
oooohhhhhh ..." she sighed around her husband's hardened shaft of excited flesh. 
Unconsciously, she thrust back with her buttocks and encouraged Harvey's questing
penis to enter her hungrily welcoming belly.  He responded eagerly, plowing into
her soft, yielding depths with a single, strong stroke. "... uuuummmmpppphhhh
..." she breathed as he hit bottom, the hard rubbery head touching enticingly
against the sensitive tip of her cervix. Without hesitation, Harvey began a slow,
rhythmic sawing in and out and Betty found that she was sucking on her husband's
hotly palpitating cock in time to Harvey's fucking behind.  Betty wondered what
Doug was thinking, knowing that Harvey was penetrating her from behind while she
was sucking his cock, but she was sure he didn't mind.  Anyway, he was in a world
of his own, his breathing coming in ragged pants, his whole body tremoring with
spasms of convulsive pleasure. Betty's own body was alive with spine-tingling
sensations, and she thrust her quivering ass backwards to welcome Harvey's
powerful instrokes.  Her breasts were trembling, the nipples hard and erect, and
as if aware of her desire, Harvey suddenly brought his hands forward and began to
caress and knead the voluptuous flesh, making her mewl with unrestrained
pleasure.  Her cheeks were convoluted as she sucked desperately on her husband's
pulsating shaft, her lips slipping up and down the long, slippery length.  Her
hand was squeezing convulsively on the churning testicles cradled in her palm,
and she could sense the tumultuous seething taking place in their dark cavern.
Her eyes half-closed, she barely noticed that a shape was moving towards Doug,
and then, realization drawing, her eyes flew open when she saw what was
happening. Jean was settling herself on her husband's face! Carefully, she placed
the pink, moist furrow of her pussy on Doug's surprised mouth.  For a moment,
Betty could only stare in surprise, and then she saw, to her amazement, that Doug
was flicking out with his tongue, darting it into the velvety softness of the
girl's vibrating cunt. Eagerly, she clamped her thighs on either side of Doug's
perspiring face and rimmed his nose and mouth with her flowering vagina.  A look
of unadulterated pleasure flushed her features and she began to moan and gasp as
Doug started to lick and suck at her trembling pussy. Betty continued to suck her
husband's granite-hard penis.  It felt like a separate living entity in her
mouth, breathtakingly alive and tingling with innumerable sensations.  Harvey was
panting behind her as he rammed his long, lunging cock into her helplessly
aroused pussy, and Betty realized that she was in the middle of an incredible
daisy-chain of sucking and fucking.  She was sucking her husband's cock while
Harvey fucked into her from behind, and at the same time, Doug was licking and
slavering at Jean's openly proffered pussy.  The thought of how they all must
appear, strung out across the floor, four naked bodies moaning and quivering with
rapidly rising passion, formed a lewd pornographic picture in Betty's mind and
gave her an illicit quiver of pleasure.  At one time, she would have thought it
was disgusting, immoral, wrong.  But now, she didn't care about any of that. 
They were all enjoying it--that was the main thing. But there was more to follow.
 Betty stared, with disbelieving eyes, as Selma, feeling undoubtedly left out,
settled herself in front of Jean, and positioning herself with lewdly splayed
thighs, afforded the dark-haired girl access to the moistly pulsating cleft of
her vagina.  Betty just couldn't believe it as she watched Jean's tongue snake
out and swipe the blonde's quivering pussy with rapidly increasing sweeps.  Selma
was obviously tremendously excited already and Betty thought she could see the
hardened knob of Selma's clitoris peeping out through the curling tendrils of
golden pussy hair. Now Betty realized she was involved in a quintet of lascivious
passion and every pore and nerve in her body was aflame with added pleasure.  The
obscene chain stretched right across the floor and the room resounded wit moans
and wet sluicing sounds of oral lovemaking.  Every tongue seemed to dip and dart
in precision unison with the tempo set by Harvey's still plunging cock and the
shivers of passion reverberated all the way from Harvey to Selma. The level of
the sensual tension was rising rapidly and Betty knew that it couldn't last. It
was Harvey who broke it. With a deep, incoherent moan, he made one last dynamic
drive into Betty, and then he was there!  Almost immediately, Betty felt the
onrush of his seething white fluid as it flowed into her lust-ridden pussy in a
foaming cascade, and she knew that she was near to climaxing herself.  But Doug
was there first.  His prick seemed to dive almost uncontrollably to her
feverishly working mouth and she felt the welcoming flood of his hot, raining
sperm in her mouth.  It seemed to fill her to overflowing, but she managed to
drink every drop, savoring it completely, thankful for the wonderful opportunity
of tasting her husband's sperm.  Then she realized, from the violent shaking of
her husband's body that Selma and Jean were cumming, too.  They were all reaching
an orgasm together! And after that, everything went blank.  She remembered
feeling the first spasms of excruciating pleasure, recalled the convulsive
shudders that shook her frame, but it seemed to all overpower her to the extent
that her head began to spin round and round and she finally sank into a satiated,
blissful oblivion.


It was well after midnight when Harvey, Selma and Jean finally left.  The rest of
the evening had passed in a blur, as far as Betty was concerned.  Her
semiconscious state after the quintet had all climaxed together didn't last long,
and she found herself being roped in to try all kinds of new positions and ways.
After a while, it all lost its savor, to her way of thinking, and she got the
impression that Doug felt the same way. At about midnight, she had made her way
to the kitchen, and assisted by Jean, made some coffee and sandwiches.  It was at
this period that she got an opportunity of telling Doug everything. She told him
all about the modeling jobs, and how she had met Harvey in the first place.  Now
that she had unburdened herself, she felt much better.  Of course, it helped that
Doug was so understanding.  It gave her a secret feeling of pleasure to realize
that Doug had actually broken off with Selma and had intended making up with her.
 So, looking back on it all, she was glad that things had worked out they way
they did.  Because if she hadn't got involved with Harvey, it was doubtful that
things would have gone smoothly with her and Doug.  But now there was no question
of any problems of that sort. Harvey seemed very attracted to Selma and it seemed
a mutual one.  Betty had even overhear him telling her about a modeling job he
might have for her.  Selma's eyes had lit up at the prospects, and Betty got the
feeling that when she and Doug faded out of the picture, they wouldn't be missed
too much, at least by Harvey and Selma.  She probably would miss Jean, but knew
that she wouldn't go on seeing her.  Jean, too, was taken with Selma, so
everything had a way of fitting together. Doug and Betty both were relieved when
they finally left. They were beginning to think they'd never be alone together
again. Harvey, Jean and Selma all seemed to be insatiable and never tired of new
variations.  Betty knew, that come the morning, the crowded events of this day
would come back into her brain with perfect clarity, if she wanted to remember
them.  But she was doubtful that she did.  But one thing she was grateful for,
and that was that she had convinced herself that group sex wasn't for her.  It
definitely palled on her, and she was secretly relieved to hear that Doug felt
the same way. Gratefully, they headed for their bedroom as soon as their guests
had gone and thankfully shut the door behind them. "Well, what a day," Doug said,
shaking his head.  "I hope we don't have another like it!" "I'm sure we won't ...
as long as you don't take on a new mistress!" Betty said mischievously. "And the
same goes for you," Doug laughed, gathering her in his arms.  "From now on, I
want a stay-at-home wife!" "You mean, that I'm not to work anymore?" she said in
mock alarm.  Actually, she was relieved to be giving up modeling.  It was fun and
exciting, but very hard work, and she found that most of her earnings went on
clothes, make-up and hairpieces.  Not to mention cabs! "That's just what I mean. 
From now on, the only modeling you're to do is for me!" "All right, you're the
boss!" Betty laughed happily, surrendering herself completely to her husband.