Chapter 12
Exactly one week later, on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, Mary picked up Jill, then they picked up Rita, and drove to Peg's house, as she had instructed.
"What do you suppose she really does have up her sleeve?" Jill ventured uncertainly.
Rita shrugged. "I don't know, but whatever it is, I hope our husbands don't find out."
Mary glanced at both her friends. "Did either of you ... uh..."
"Tell our husbands that we know what they did last Saturday at Harry's lake cabin?" Jill blurted. "Are you crazy? I didn't breathe a word to Arnold."
"Walter doesn't know a thing, either," Rita admitted. "And he's been as cool as ice to me all week anyway."
"So has Frank," Mary sighed. "Golly, I hope Peg doesn't have anything really far-out in mind for this afternoon."
"like a troop of eighteen-year-old Eagle Scouts?" Rita asked, grinning.
"Don't joke about it. I'll have to admit that I enjoyed both my little flings," Mary said. "But if Frank really catches me with some lower-class guy's hand in my panties, he'll jet me to Reno."
"Same here," Rita and Jill echoed.
When they reached Peg's, Mary led the way in. She figured that since the first mad idea for illicit sex had been hers, the least she could do was act as group leader.
Peg met them at the door in a pink see-through peignoir. The gown left almost nothing to the imagination. Her friends could see both of her tits because the ruddy, full-tipped nipples were pushing up against the thin cloth like thumbs. And if one cared to notice, Peg's dark thatch of pubic hair could be seen between her legs.
"Lord," Jill muttered, "have you started without us?"
Peg grinned. "There're three more gowns on the sofa. Take off your clothes and hop into them."
Mary glanced hesitantly around the big, empty living room. "Before we do anything, tell us what the hell you've schemed up. Have you got some poor, oversexed stud hiding in the closet?"
Peg had to grin again. "Better than that, girls. I've got four of 'em upstairs."
"Four of what?" Rita purred.
"You'll see. Now, get into those sexy gowns, and I'll give you your instructions."
They did as they were told, stripping naked during a lot of nervous giggling, and putting on the sexy gowns until they were as indecent as Peg.
Just getting naked into something as salacious as the filmy peignoirs was already making all of them a little horny. Rita, for example, could feel her clit beginning to thicken and rise, reminding her of that erotic day she balled all those big-pricked truck drivers.
"Well," Mary demanded, when they were gowned, "now do we get to know who you've got upstairs?"
"Haven't you guessed?" Peg asked. "I've got your husbands."
"Huh?"
"So that's what you've spent the whole week doing," Jill sputtered. "Screwing our bedmates!"
"Hardly, dear," Peg slurred. "I did spend the week talking them into this deal. And I must say, it took some talking. But when they found out that we knew all about their little lakeside orgy, they came around. And why the hell not!"
"You mean," Mary breathed, "that I'm supposed to trot upstairs in this costume and fuck my husband in your house?"
"Huh-uh," Peg said casually. "You're going to get fucked-and by a gas meter reader."
"By a what?" Mary gasped.
"You heard me-and a nice working-class gas meter reader he is, too. And you, Jill, you're going to be entertained to death by a butch door-to-door panty salesman. And as for you, Rita, how would you like to have your flag raised and waved by a good-looking, crack-crazy taxi driver?"
Rita wet her lips weakly. "Do you mean that your husbands are upstairs all rigged out like ... uh ... all those types?"
"Exactly. And I've put big paper numbers on the bedrooms so that you can't miss them. Mary, you're in ONE, Jill's in TWO, and Rita is in THREE."
"And where are you?" Jill asked.
"I'm in FOUR-with a mechanic. A more-than-willing motorcycle mechanic, actually."
At that, the girls had to laugh.
"Peg, you're a damned genius," Mary said, grinning.
"I think you'll find I'm even smarter than that before the afternoon is over. Okay, you liberated vestal virgins-go find your men!"
With a muffled whoop of pleasure, Peg's three guests started for the stairs.
Bedroom ONE was right at the top of the landing, so Mary was the first one to find her fate. When she opened the door, she saw a man dressed in a denim uniform and a cap, but it wasn't her husband. It was Jill's husband Arnold!
"Oh," Mary said, gulping. "Sorry, Arnold, I guess I got the wrong-"
"You were assigned to bedroom ONE, weren't you, Mary?" Arnold asked, grinning.
"Well ... uh ... yes, but-"
"You like me, don't you?"
"You know I like you, Arnold. Hell, yes, I do like you, but-"
"So what's the problem? Shut the door and come on over here. Let me test your meter, baby."
Mary got the picture in a big way then. That Peg was really full of surprises!
"What about Frank?" Mary asked, closing the door behind her and snapping the lock.
"Don't worry about Frank," Arnold said. "I don't think he'll be worrying about you for the next hour."
Mary's lips spread in a slow, wanton grin. It was as if she were seeing Arnold Allen for the first time. Really seeing him. And really realizing just what a goddamned mature and good-looking male he was.
She came over to him on hot tip-toes.
"Read my meter," she husked happily.
He was still grinning as his big hands came up to mold the full thrust of her tits. His thumbs moved over the thin cloth covering the nipples, and she could feel her blood beginning to boil in her loins.
"I'll do better than read your meter," he said huskily. "I'll eat your meter!"
She felt a little devilish kick of lust inside her womb. "One good turn deserves another," she whispered hotly.
"Meaning...? "
"You eat my meter-and I'll eat your peter!"
His eyes sparkled wickedly, and kept sparkling as her fingers moved hungrily toward the metal buttons on his fly.
While Mary and Arnold were getting down to their first, but hopefully not last, meal together, Jill was having a little discourse of her own with Peg's husband Harry.
When Jill had first strolled into bedroom TWO, she had almost dropped her fillings to see portly, high-voiced Harry lying on the bed stark-naked with a suitcase full of frilly panties. But her recovery had come swimmingly fast when she saw the long, fat cock between Harry's pudgy legs. It was up as hard as a hammer!
"Can I interest you in a pair of panties?" Harry asked, grinning, and holding up a little scrap of what looked like black lace and fringed doilies. "I see you need some."
"Do I?" Jill asked, smiling, not able to keep her eyes off that immodestly large thing old Harry had poking up from between his legs.
"Well, that's a.matter of opinion at that," Harry admitted. "But it might be all kinds of fun-for both of us-if you waltzed your ass over here and let me finger a pair of 'em on you."
Harry's amusing attempt to sound like a door-to-door salesman made Jill's imagination soar, right along with her wanton urge to know what it would be like to get fucked by a lawyer's husky cock.
She came over to the bed, slipping out of the peignoir as she moved. She stood brazenly naked in front of him and let his eyes rove greedily over every inch of her body before she prompted the next move.
"Do you try to make a ... uh ... good fit for all of your customers?" she crooned.
"No complaints yet, lady. Here, lemme show you."
As she stood with her legs spread apart, he worked the skimpy pair of panties up to her hips. He had his hands all over her during the process, pressing and squeezing his fingers into the firm mounds of her flushed buttocks, and letting his thumb get very involved with her pubic hair and the fattening lips of her throbbing pussy.
"There," he panted finally, patting her tummy with the flat of his hand. "How's that for a perfect fit?"
She grinned. "I'm going to have a perfect fit, Harry, if we don't cut out this foolishness and get down to some old-fashioned fucking!"
He grinned back at her. "like they say, the customer is always right."
With that, he raked the panties all the way back down to her ankles, and she stepped out of them with a small moan of lust.
If anybody had tried to convince her that Harry Barton could be a tiger in bed, she would have laughed her head off-yesterday. But today she was finding out for herself that big things can come in small packages. Harry might be high-voiced and have his butt too low to the floor, she heard herself reasoning, but by God in the screwing department he was better than a saber-toothed rabbit!
She grunted joyously as Harry rolled her over in the middle of the bed and crawled between her legs. She felt the blunted head of his large prick plowing juicily up her pussy, and she bucked her hips to help. He didn't stop pumping until he had his balls wedged tightly against the nether side of her cunt, and she could feel the whole column of his manly tool thumping and throbbing inside of her.
"God, Harry," she gasped, "you sure missed your calling!"
"Us salesmen know how to score door-to-door," he breathed hoarsely. "Now, are you ready to get your cute housewife-twat fucked deep and dry?"
With a low growl of passion, she answered by circling her arms around his darkly-haired shoulders and swinging her smooth, naked legs lewdly around his chubby ass.
"Ball me, stud!" she rasped.
The creaking and groaning of springs under the humping bodies in bedroom TWO was almost loud enough to be heard in bedroom THREE-and might have been, if Rita and Frank hadn't been too preoccupied with their own explorations of each other's charms.
The second Rita had stepped into the bedroom, she had caught on. And she had loved the idea of mate swapping, too. In fact, she had long ago read up on the subject, and had even wanted to suggest such marital novelty to her girl friends before, except that she thought they would consider her a depraved slut. And that was one secret she had always wanted to keep.
But now, with Peg's lusty and improvisatory mind, the problem had been solved for her.
And with the very one she had always secretly coveted Mary's hubby Frank.
Rita had known since the first time she laid eyes on Frank that he was one of those deep-smoldering volcano types. One of those males who might be a little slow to stir up, but when once ignited would fuck a gal like a drunken whore master!
So, the instant she stepped into bedroom THREE and got a happy eyeful of Frank Carter in his borrowed taxi driver's cap and his khaki pants, her already hardening clit had turned into a cow tongue of lust.
She came at the basically shy architect with prick-hot hunger in her eyes!
"Christ, Rita," Frank gasped, when she moved into his arms without a word and began to run her lips wetly over his ears. "Aren't you even surprised about all this? I mean, I thought your gals might object ... or ... at least. . . uh..."
He couldn't quite get the futile objection out. Rita's hands were already rubbing and squeezing for the bulge in his pants. She found his cock with five of her fingers and began to massage it with little pumping motions, feeling it slowly growing hard under the rough texture of his work pants.
"Rita," he husked, "don't move so damned fast.
I'm supposed to be the one who-"
"Honey, you can drive your taxi cab into my bedroom any night," Rita gushed, cutting off his sentence with a greedy pull on his lengthening prick. "But since we're already in this bedroom, let's get nice and naked and ball like wampus cats!"
He opened his mouth one final time to make a gentlemanly protest, but Rita stopped that by driving her pointing tongue solidly down his throat. For the next two or three long minutes, while she worked frantically to get his fly open and to pull out that promising screwing tool of his, she French-kissed his mouth like a harlot. When he tried to come up for air, she sucked his tongue hard back into her mouth and rolled her own tongue obscenely against the roof of his mouth and cheeks.
Kissing like that from a voluptuous, half-naked female like Rita would have brought a corpse to life.
Frank's cock began to grow as stiff as iron, and when she finally got his fly open it flopped out into her hands like a giant-sized wiener!
She dropped to her knees, tongue slathering, and took more than half of his horizontally stiff prick into her mouth. While he stood flush-faced, arms hanging at his sides, she sucked savagely away on his meat. With his eyes closed and his mouth half-open in a slack grin, he listened to the deep slurping sounds her lips and tongue were making-and felt his rod growing bone-hard and hot against the back of her throat.
As nimble and ambitious as a Jezebel in a bunkhouse, Rita worked her gown off as she continued to blow the big and beautiful prick.
When she felt his balls tightening, she stopped her gluttonous sucking for a moment, and concentrated on licking merely the purple head. The fleshy helmet at the end of his pleasured cock had grown as big around as a small pear, and as she lapped it with the flat of her tongue it throbbed on the verge of coming.
But Rita wanted his sperm up her hot cunt, not down her throat.
With a gentle, stroking motion at his balls, she pulled him over to the bed. He was still fully dressed, with only his stone-hard cock sticking out of his fly, but they were both too hot to wait.
Sprawling backward on the bed and throwing her legs brazenly apart, she invited him to ram that rod right into her.
With a bestial grunt of lust not even his own wife would have recognized, Frank Carter plunged his huge organ as far up Rita's cunt as he could get it, then started fucking her like an ape.
Rita was already grinning and coming before his balls touched her ass-hole.
Meanwhile, in bedroom FOUR...
Peg and Walter were enjoying a good laugh.
Their laugh didn't have the most conventional origin in the world-it was being instigated by the fact that Walter was teasing her tits with one of her trusty vibrators.
They had been at the erotic game since Peg entered the bedroom. And her entering had come as no surprise at all to him. In fact, she had assured him that he would be the one she picked, and that if he wanted to bother with all the nonsense of pretending to be a motorcycle mechanic in a leather jacket, he could. But as for her notions on the subject, he was simply Walter Miles-Rita's husband-and a guy with a vibe-sized prick that could drive a carnal pussy like hers right through the bed slats.
And now, as Walter obligingly teased her nipples with the buzzing tip of the electric vibrator, and she just as helpfully let her fingers play up and down the vertical stiffness of his huge penis, they were working their way up to the same kind of fucking they had engaged in two nights before.
"Don't tell Rita," Walter whispered, grinning at the way Peg's cheeks were flushing as the pleasure heightened in her tits. "If she finds out we did this before today, she'll claw my balls off."
"She won't find out," Peg hummed. "But I do think it was a clever way to sort of make it ... uh ... legal."
Walter chuckled. "To say nothing of the fact that you might actually enjoy screwing Frank and Arnold. When you're through with me."
"Could be ... but I'm sure you won't turn down the chance later this afternoon to find out how the pussy tastes on the other side of the fence. Namely, Jill's and Mary's."
"I don't want to be a hog with this," he said, grinning, and pointing at the lordly prick that was on full-hard between his legs. "But I've got a feeling that nobody-but nobody-knows how to throw a fellow a good fuck the way you do."
Peg smiled, feeling shamelessly untroubled by what Walter was referring to. He was making an unveiled reference to two nights ago, when he got a call from her to meet her at a motel-for a talk. She had really intended just to broach the subject of a swap session, the same innocent way she had broached it to Frank and Arnold and Harry. But when Walter arrived at the motel bar, and when she remembered what she had seen him doing at the lake cabin with that Miss Douggle, and how big it had looked in that slut's hungry mouth, she knew that a little preview performance might be nice.
And so, instead of just talking, they had rented a motel room and fucked for three hours.
So now, with her final little secret tucked neatly away in her mind, she knew that she and Walter would be free to screw any time they wanted to. And still keep it all in the family.
And speaking of screwing, she was more than ready. The vibrator that he had used on her seething cunt-and which he was now stubbornly using on her swollen tits-had paved the way for the real thing. And the real thing was those ten hardy inches only a grope away.
"C'mon, lover-doll," she breathed helplessly, "let's roll on this bed like a couple of horny honeymooners."
"Fine by me," he said.
She ran her fingers lightly over his broad, hairy chest. "Then when you've got me good and satisfied, we'll go back down to the living room and join the others for cocktails."
His eyes twinkled wickedly. "Yeah ... and after that, you can serve us some drinks!"