Chapter 12

They drove home in a strained silence. Bob tried to collect his thoughts, and they wouldn't come. All he could think of was the first shocking image he'd seen of his wife, fucking like a rutting sow with her ass flaring out behind her and her cunt stuffed full and her mouth eating voraciously at the dripping cunt, like a camel at a Saharan waterhole.

He looked across the seat at her and saw the way her hair was neatly back in place. Her face was stony and cold-not twisted with lust and passion the way it was before. He took his eyes from her and steered the car into the garage.

They went up the steps to their bedroom, shutting off the lights on the way like any normal night. He watched the tilting sway of her ass under the straight-lined skirt that tried to hide it from him still.

They went into the bedroom. He closed the door and watched her move to the closet. She reached behind her and pulled the tab of her zipper down. It was a soft, sliding sound, but it ripped through his mind like the screeching whine of twisting metal.

"You bitch!" he shouted suddenly.

He strode across the room and grabbed her and threw her onto the bed. Her legs flew up and revealed her pantied crotch. The nylon was stained dark from where her pussy had been leaking out the cum from all the pricks that had discharged into her body. He stared at the spot and grew dizzy with rage. She didn't pull the skirt back in place.

She looked at him a moment and then let her head fall back. She laughed softly.

"You should see your face, darling," she said. "You don't know whether you want to kill me or rape me."

"You dirty bitch," he said again. It was a hollow sound, dead, as if he didn't really care about anything any more.

"What's the matter, Bob? Wasn't this what you wanted after all? You got what you wanted, didn't you?" Her eyes were intent boring into his as if seeking the answer there.

"Yes," he said. "And so did you. That's the thing that hurts."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Don't play coy. You've done that before. No woman could learn as fast and as well as you did tonight without having lots of practice somewhere, sometime before." His eyes went hollow. "My God ... the years!"

Barbara started to jerk her skirt back into place. She started to argue with him as she had so many times in the past--a force of habit.

Instead, she let her legs fall wider apart. She pushed the dress from her shoulders and removed her slip. She lay back on the bed in her bra and panties and gazed at him, her hair suddenly spilling in soft dark waves on the spread.

"Fuck me, Bob," she said gently. "Come on, honey--come and fuck me. I want it now. I'll always want it from you."

He looked at her, casting a sideways, suspicious glance. He didn't trust her. She was playing another game with him--one that might hurt worse.

"Go to hell," he said. "We're though. I won't take any more from you."

She raised up and frowned her puzzlement. "Bob, what's the matter, darling? I said I wanted you! Please, honey, come take me. Don't you understand I want you to?"

"I can't," he said. "Not after tonight."

"Damn you, it was your idea!"

"Not that," he said. "The way you did it. I thought you didn't know how--didn't know what a man wanted. I thought you were too prissy and Puritanical to learn. I thought that sex disgusted you, but how wrong I was! Well, you can go ahead and think whatever you want to think about my past, because I just don't give a damn any more. I'm through being punished for something that's done and over with. I knew you could fuck up a storm--you made the mistake of doing it for me once; remember? Is that when Paul got to you? Is that when you started fucking around on me with Banner?"

He was leaning over her, beating down at her with his words. She looked at him, stunned, shaking her head with incomprehension.

"Bob, stop ... I don't understand! What are you saying? Who is Paul? What past are you talking about? Honey, I haven't been punishing you for anything! Bob, stop it!"

"Don't pull that innocent shit on me!" he roared. "You know goddamn well who Paul is!"

She searched his face anxiously. "No, Bob," she said, shaking her head. "I don't know, I swear I don't know who Paul is."

He stopped and looked at her. The blood beat through his head. He watched her expression. The coldness was gone, the glint of ice in her eyes was gone. She really didn't know.

"Then why were you punishing me, Barb?" he asked, sitting on the bed. His knees went rubbery with emotion.

She looked away, opened her mouth. It would be so easy to fabricate something, to deny her own lecherous past, to deny and deny without explanation or meaning or truth until whatever they had that held them together melted away into nothing.

She turned her head back and brushed the hair from her eyes. "I wasn't punishing you, Bob. I was hiding from you. I was hiding from myself. I was wrong. It was all wrong. I want to start over again, and you won't let me."

He stared at her. "You were hiding from me?"

"Yes."

"What were you hiding?"

She paused again, and her voice was firm. "If I tell you, Bob, it will be on one condition." "What?"

"You cannot hold what I tell you against me. You say your past is over? Well, so is mine. I don't know what you did, and I haven't been punishing you. I won't punish you. You must return that to me."

"All right," he said.

She took a deep breath. "I was a whore. Not a bright one, not an expensive one, not a managed one. When I needed money I fucked for it. Anybody who would pay me. I started when I was nine. My parents weren't rich and sophisticated and educated and killed while flying to Europe the way I said. I lied to you because I thought that's what you wanted to hear."

"Barbara...."

"I fucked and I sucked the way I drank water--because I needed to. Not only for money, but for sex. When I was twelve I wanted to join a club of neighborhood kids. For initiation the boys made me suck all their cocks in one hour. There were ten of them. I did it. Rod Banner was one of them. Then the girls wanted their pussies eaten, and I did that. The boys became more inventive, and I had ten pricks rammed up my ass. There was more. They didn't let me into the club when I was finished because they were ashamed of themselves." "Barbara, I...."

"I didn't have a mother. My father gave me dimes for jacking him off or sucking his prick. It became a way of life--a way to get money for food and clothes. I had a price schedule for services performed Rod can tell you what it was. I wasn't a good business woman. Not even when I met you at that party. My date screwed me down to twenty-three dollars if I paid the cab fare home. That was when I saw you at the party and decided that I'd had enough! I'm sorry, Bob--I thought you were a man who wouldn't have needs, would protect me and keep me secure for ... maybe twice a month. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry for what I've done. But once I got started being Barbara Miller instead of Wilma Higby, I was trapped. I knew if I fucked the way you wanted me to that you'd want to know more, and I was ashamed. When I started wanting sex again, it was too late to do it with you. There was a woman, Bob. Only one. No men--until tonight. That's what I was hiding from you, darling."

"God!" he cried, his face twisting with a multitude of emotions. "Oh, God!"

She moved up and put her arms around him tightly. "You promised, Bob, you promised!"

"I didn't know!...."

"Tell me about Paul, Bob!" she said desperately, trying to hold him still. "You must tell me what you were hiding from me!"

He buried his face in her breasts. "I can't!" he cried.

"For God's sake, darling, it can't be as bad as "I've told you about myself! What is it?" "I....I...." "Come on!"

"There ... there was a beer party--" "What did he do? I don't want to hear all that! What did you do?"

"He sucked me off!" Bob cried. "And you liked it, didn't you?" "I hit him!"

"But you liked it! Admit it, Bob! You liked it!"

"Ahhgh-yes!" he cried, twisting on the bed in anguish, fighting in the circle of her smothering body.

"You were ashamed, too!" she said, wiping his forehead with her hand. It was covered with sweat, and his body shook.

"Yes, Barbara, I was ashamed! I thought you knew! He swore he'd get even with me for hitting him when he tried ... tried...."

"Did you want to suck his prick, too? Don't be ashamed--tell the truth!"

"No! No!"

"I don't care, darling-don't you understand, I don't care! We can go to another swap party and you can suck all the pricks you want to now, and I won't care!"

"I don't want that!" he cried, shaking his head. "I want women! I want to fuck and fuck and make up for all the times you've denied me!"

"All right, Bob, I'll let you. Any time you want-anybody you choose! I'll fuck her with you if you want me to, darling, and then we can come home and I'll bend your prick and twist it in knots with my cunt and my tongue and my ass until you squirt and squirt all your juice out of your balls into my writhing, screaming body! You remember the first time, darling-it's going to be like that from now on! Even better, because now we understand each other and can love each other again! Oh, Bob, it worked! Your beautiful, wonderful swap party worked, do you hear? We're free again!"

Barbara took her arms from around him and undid the catch of her bra. Her tits spilled out of the cups and dangled on his chest. She rolled her panties down her thighs, mopping at her pussy with the wadded nylon to remove the semen of the other men. She ripped at his shirt and pants and stripped them from his body. Then she grabbed his prick and stuffed it into her mouth and sucked on it avidly, moaning, her cheeks puffing in and out obscenely until his penis bloated and bloomed inside her grasping, sucking throat.

"Barbara!" he cried. He began to writhe. "Honey, you're better than any of them!"

She pulled his prick from her mouth and kissed his balls, laving them with her tongue. She ran the tip under his crotch and stabbed the thick, wet tongue into his asshole, licking around the puckered orifice until his buttocks quivered with heat.

She released him and straddled his hips, centering her cunt over the shaft of his prick. She spread her pussy lips with her fingers and sat on his reaming cock, thrusting it up her cunt to the hairy base of his root.

She writhed and screwed her pelvis around on top of his cock, twisting and jerking her pussy back and forth, bringing his hands to her wildly throbbing tits and mashing them down hard.

He moaned and opened his eyes and looked into her face. Her mouth was full and smiling, and her hair was tousled around her head. She had the look of animal heat in her face that made him growl with virile lust. He watched her dark muff tangle with his own pubic hair as she lifted her ass and settled back down, making his cock slide in and out of her steaming cunt. "Oh, darling," she cried heatedly. "Oh, how I've wanted to do this to you for so long!"

Bob growled again. Then he placed his hands on her thighs and pushed, toppling her over onto her side. Her eyes popped open, and she watched him climb over her body without his cock coming out of her clutching cunt. He settled between her thighs and raised his butt.

"I'm going to fuck the hell out of you!" he said.

"Oh, do it, honey! Do it!"

He rammed and pounded and banged into her cunt, driving his prick to the back of her vaginal canal. He felt her pussy twist and rotate around his shaft, better than Sue or Janice or Peggy or any of the rest of them put together. He was going out of his mind with the feel of her fucking cunt, the feel of her willing, demanding body under his. It was better than the first time ever could be, because there was more meaning behind it now.

"Here it comes, Barbara!" he cried. "Squirt! Blast! Come! Ohhh ... FUCK ME HONEY!"

She pulled his butt into her cupping thighs with her hands, driving his prick all the way into her body. He felt her orgasm starting just as his prick bucked and shot out the first hot gush of white-heated cum. Then they writhed and twisted and rolled on the bed in paroxysms of climaxing passion that drained them both dry.

They slept naked in each other's arms while the light burned overhead.

Bob sat behind his desk again, looking out the window. His fingers were steepled together, and his feet were propped on the desk. Beside them lay the piles of papers and sheets and specs on Futures Unlimited. Next to them was his report that Crandall had already asked about once this morning.

He was getting nowhere. He was at a dead-end. It was ironic. Now that he'd found his wife he wasn't going to be able to keep her. His phone rang. He picked it up and heard Barbara's voice. He nearly didn't recognize it, it was so soft and gentle.

"Hello, darling," she said.

"Hello yourself, sweetie, what's the matter?"

"Can't I call you and tell you I miss you?" "Sure," he smiled. "But you never used to do that."

"A lot of things are going to be different, Bob." "I'm glad."

"There was a reason besides telling you I can't wait until you get home tonight."

"What was that, hmmm?" he asked, feeling like a love-sick teenager and liking it.

"I remembered that name you mentioned last night."

"What name was that? Did I mention a name?" "That Vince Bartollo. I remembered about him."

Bob jerked awake as if jolted by an electric probe. "What!"

"I used to know one-know of him, anyway. He ran a call-girl operation out of Chicago back when ... back before we were married. One of the girls tried to get me to join, but I didn't. I couldn't ... Oh, Bob, I hope this doesn't upset you, talking about my past again."

"No, that's all right, honey, go on! What about him? Fat, short, dark, smokes a smelly cigar? Mean-looking mouth, and a scar on his chin?"

"Wait, Bob!" she laughed. I only saw him once, and that was across the room. I can't tell you for sure, but I thought maybe you could check up on it. The girl who talked me out of joining up said they were a bunch of gangsters."

"Barbara, I love you!" he whooped. "Honey, your dirty past has just made us a boatload of money and a new title! I knew they were hiding something! I knew it!"

"Bob ... ? Bob? Are you still there?"

"Yeah," he said, scribbling notes furiously, his mind running far ahead and whirling out the details faster than his fingers could move.

"What did Janice say? Have you talked to her yet?"

He stopped writing and grinned into the phone. "Say, I'm going to have to keep my eye on you," he laughed.

"Well, when is the next party?"

"Next week."

"Do you want to go, darling?"

"Do you?"

"I asked you first!"

"Do we need to go already?"

"A week's a long way off," she said.

"We'll see," he said. "We'll go for variety, and nothing else how's that?"

"That sounds like you're saying you love me."

"That's what I'm saying, Barbara."

"I was hoping you were. I love you, too, darling. It's a deal. We go for variety only because we've already found what we needed to find. Oh, hurry home, Bob, I'm leaking for you already!"

"Your what is needing what?" he grinned.

"My cunt needs your prick to fuck it, Mr. Big-Balls!"

He laughed. "That's better," he said. "I'll be home as fast as I can get there!" " 'Bye, lover."

He hung up the phone, scooped up his notes, and headed out the door for Crandall's office to get him to delay the deadline again. He stopped at Janice's desk.

"Make an appointment with the photographer, Janice," he said. "I want Mrs. Miller to sit for another portrait. The one I have isn't any good any more."

He winked at her. Then he turned and strode down the hall with big steps, whistling loudly. Janice smiled after him and picked up the phone, glad to have a boss again.