Chapter 4
CHERRY SCRAMBLED FROM THE BED TOWARD the bathroom and Emma speeded her action until it was almost too fast for the eye to follow. Jason grunted again, unable to remain silent as the tide of rapture began creeping through him. The third time he made the sound, Emma bent over him and, without ceasing the treatment of her. hand, capped her hot lips down over the head of his throbbing shaft.
"Grahrr!" The sound was wrenched from his throat at the touch of her mouth and squirming tongue. The elixir of life geysered from his loins.
When Cherry returned, carrying a towel, she stopped, goggled a moment at the scene on the bed, then burst into happy laughter. Jason was an excellent dancer, and he loved to dance; but this was the first time she had ever seen him dance the Twist while lying flat on his back. Or maybe it was the Frug he was attempting. Or maybe he just might be losing his mind; he might be going crazy from the way he lunged and heaved and churned the air with his arms and legs.
Emma was still bending over him, still massaging his rod as best she could with her lips around the end of it. The fascinating scene held Cherry spellbound until his contortions began to slow and Emma un-handed him and motioned for the towel. Yet she did not remove her lips until Jason had calmed completely.
"Golly Pete!" the tall girl grinned when she returned from the bathroom a minute or so later. "Where'd you get all those goodies?"
He grinned in return. "A man can collect a lot of goodies in three months."
"Yeah, I know, but ... sheesh!" She stretched out beside him, opposite Cherry. "Now, where were we before you started throwing fits?"
"You were telling us about Camp Sunair," Cherry told her.
"Oh, yes." Emma frowned in thought for a moment. "Well, as I said, Sam and Ruth, along with Ed and Beulah, decided that if a little friendly permissible infidelity would save their marriages, it would do the same for other couples about to get a divorce." She waved a long forefinger at them. "And let me tell you this; you'd be amazed at the remarkable success they've had. Sam and Ed bought a tract of land over on the coast, and built Sunair. It's a very lavish resort with high, steel fences and thorny hedges all around it. The only way in is the main gate, but it's located in a very remote section and nobody ever tries to sneak in to see what's going on inside."
"What does go on inside?" Jason asked. "I mean, what's the procedure."
"You sound interested."
"I am interested."
"Me too," Cherry said.
"Let me explain it like this," Emma told them. "As I said a while ago, you won't have any problem becoming members. I'll take care of that. Once you get inside, you take off your clothes and do as you please. And keep this in mind. All the other couples are there for the same reason you will be; to engage in a little on-the-side diddling, so don't be surprised if you see it going on all around you. That's the only reason the couples go there. That's the reason Camp Sunair was built. Once you're settled and undressed, you draw a numbered plastic card which you wear around your neck, then go find the person of the opposite sex who has a card with a corresponding number."
"And then?" Jason asked with keen interest.
"And then you diddle." Emma paused, frowning thoughtfully before continuing. "Let me explain it from the beginning. And for the sake of clarity, Jason, I'll use you as an example. Let's assume that you are there, have undressed, and go draw a card. These cards are white, with a large black number on each side. You wear it around your neck by a chain so it can be easily seen. They're about the size of a gasoline credit card.
"Now, let us say that the card you draw has a two on one side, and a three on the other. Somewhere at Camp Sunair that day there is a woman with a two on one side of her card, and another woman with a three on one side of hers. You simply find these women. The fact that they're wearing a card means they're willing and anxious to diddle any man having a card with the same number as theirs."
"What about the other numbers on the two women's cards?" Cherry asked eagerly.
"There'll be two other men at Sunair that day wearing cards that will match the numbers. You see, this is a system Sam and Ed worked out to help break in new members. It isn't followed strictly all the time, but when you and Jason go to Sunair you'll both get cards, which will mean there'll be two men for you to diddle with and two women for Jason. After the ice is broken, and you know your way around, if you see somebody you'd like to have sex with, all you do is ask. And ninety-nine times out of a hundred the answer will be yes. In fact, I've never even heard of anyone turning another person down. After all, that's what they're there for."
"Boy," Cherry sighed wistfully. "I sure could use a lot of diddling right now. If I don't get to ride a population pole before long I'm afraid I'll start thinking of myself as a virgin again and I'd hate that."
Emma pushed herself erect and leaned her weight on one arm. "Now both of you are sure you don't mind the other having sex with somebody else. Is that right?"
"Exactly," Jason put in. "And it's only because of sex. We love each other too much for it to be anything else. Once this damn problem of mine-this affliction-is cleared up, Cherry and I can go with each other."
"That's right," Cherry said to her sister. "Dr. Goldberg said, in effect, that if Jason didn't screw some other women he would probably never be able to screw me again. I want Jason to have other women because I want him back for myself. I want him to have all the women he can handle until he can get an erection with me again."
"And what about Cherry, Jason? What's your reason for letting her have sex with other men?"
"Because I love her. I just found out today that we're both over-sexed. I don't want her suffering any longer for need of something I'm not able to furnish right now. As I said, when this problem of mine is cleared up, it'll be just the two of us again."
"I thought you'd been giving her relief with this." Emma stuck out her tongue.
"He has," Cherry cut in. "And it's wonderful what he's been doing for me, and what you did tonight-but it's not like the real thing. I like to feel it moving inside me."
"All righty," Emma said as if having reached a decision. "Have you got a diaphragm?"
Cherry nodded. "But I haven't worn it in months."
"Well ... get it on. I'll go make a phone call and ... "
Cherry jerked upright on the bed, her eyes shining. "You mean you know somebody who'll come out here tonight?"
"I hope so." Emma glanced at her watch. "It's only eight o'clock. They should be home."
"They?" Jason sat up beside his wife. "They who?"
"You both know them," Emma grinned. "It's Stan and Marsha Constiner."
Cherry threw her arms around Jason's neck. "Oh, darling, isn't it wonderful?" Then to her sister she said, "But why, Marsha, when you're here?"
"I have a date for tonight and I can still just make it ... a handsome devil I met on the plane from
Paris. I just came by tonight to knock off Jason's excess head of steam. Besides, another, different woman will put him one step nearer to being cured. Is the rumpus room downstairs still fixed up the way it used to be?"
Jason nodded, in his mind seeing the vivacious, pleasantly plump figure of Stan Constiner's wife.
"Then why don't you two go on down to the rumpus room," Emma said. "I'll call Stan, and then I'll dress. When he and Marsha get here I'll let them in, and lock the door when I leave." She disappeared down the hallway toward the room where she had left her clothes.
Jason led the way down to the rumpus room and switched on the lights, Cherry following close behind. For the past three months neither of them had been in the rumpus room more than a time or two, and then only briefly. Before his affliction, however, it had been their favorite spot in the house-it and the bedroom-because they'd had it furnished with one thought in mind: A place with plenty of room to romp and play, and make love.
It had no pool table, no ping-pong table, no bar-none of the things ordinarily found in the rumpus room of a wealthy home. It did have an area of the polished, hardwood floor-twenty-five feet wide and thirty feet long, covered with innerspring mattresses, which in turn were covered with thick comforters. There was little else, except a small linen closet, a bathroom and two Hollywood style beds at the far end. Scattered over the comforters were several large pillows which Cherry had ordered made She clung to Jason's arm as they walked toward the padded floor.
"I'm so excited I'm quivering inside." Her eyes sparkled and her lovely face glowed with a glad light. "Now I'm beginning to realize what kind of friendship club Stan and Marsha have been referring to. I wonder what their reason for ... swapping partners could have been."
They reached the play area where the mattresses were. They lay down, Jason on his back with Cherry propped against him, and her ripe, cone-shaped breasts mashed against his chest, her face above his.
"I can't imagine what their reason could have been," Jason said. "But do you remember when I had Stan buy that five-thousand shares of General Motors about two years ago? He and Marsha weren't getting along too good at the time, but a few months later they were billing and cooing like two lovebirds."
"They had been married only about three years then. Stan and Emma are the same age, and Marsha's only a year older than I am. Has he ever given any indication as to what their trouble might have been? Or what cleared it up?"
"No, but whatever it was that cleared it up must have been a doozie. Now Stan can't wait to get home from the office, and Marsha refuses to go anywhere without him. They act like they've been married only a week."
"Do you like Emma, Jason? I mean ... I know you like her ... but ... what she did tonight upstairs ... did it change your attitude toward her any at all?"
"It certainly did. I think she's one of the most fabulous persons I've ever met. For some reason, always before I've thought of her as being a little too prim and efficient. But not anymore. Efficient ... yes ... but prim she ain't. Tomorrow, why don't you have her move in with us? We've rooms we seldom see, much less use. Is she going back to Paris soon?"
"She hasn't said, but I hope not." Cherry laughed softly. "I wish you could have seen your face tonight when she came into the bedroom naked. I thought your eyes would pop out."
"I thought they would, too. I'm not over the surprise yet."
"Me neither. And me thinking she might be a virgin. That's a good one."
"Do you want to visit this Camp Sunair she told us about?"
"I sure do ... Don't you?"
"ll h-huh. And if it's like she says it is, I want us to join. Also ... " He stopped, listening intently. The sound of voices from upstairs reached the rumpus room.
"It's Stan and Marsha," Cherry whispered, her voice trembling from her efforts to control her eagerness. "I hope, Mr. McIvers, that your wife gets thoroughly screwed this night."
"You know something, Mrs. McIvers," he grinned broadly. "I hope she does too. And I'm looking forward to the day when I can thoroughly screw her myself."
"Jason!" It was Stan Constiner calling from the top of the stairs.
"We're down here, Stan." Jason called back. "Come on down."
Stan did-three steps at the time-and naked as a jay bird, a big smile on his face as he strode toward where they lay. "A voice on the phone told me you wanted to trade wives for a while, Jason."
Stan Constiner was of medium height; he had thick wrists and large feet, and a somewhat angular face, topped by a shock of red hair that seldom looked neatly combed. His friendly eyes were like those of a prankish puppy. Neither with clothes, nor without, did he look like the Boy Genius of Wall Street, a tag bestowed upon him by his business associates for having built a hole-in-the-wall brokerage business into a multi-million-dollar concern in less than ten years. When his eyes scanned the luscious nakedness of Cherry, now on her back beside her husband, her legs thrown wide, his cock swiftly swelled.
Cherry stared at it with unfeigned admiration and desire. She couldn't tear her eyes away, but kept them fixed at the juncture of his thighs-like a bird about to be eaten by a snake.
"If that voice on the phone belonged to my sister-in-law, then you heard correctly. She just got through working me and Cherry both over."
Stan nodded in understanding. "She's good at it. I've wanted to tell you two about Emma for a long time, but some things you just don't talk about until the time is right-like now."
"Where's Marsha?" Jason asked.
"She left her gadget in her purse in the car and didn't remember until she was undressed. She'll be down in a minute or so."
"What kind of gadget?" Cherry honestly wanted to know.
"Her diaphragm. I hope you're wearing one."
"I am," she said pertly. "But if you're going to stand there and talk all night I might as well have left it off."
"That bad, huh?" he grinned.
"Worse than that. It's been three months since I've had a rousing work-out. Come on, Stan, please."
"Ma'am," he told her, depressing his cudgel with a thumb, then letting it snap back to slap his lower abdomen, "that's exactly what I'm here for."
Cherry was still staring at his delightful appendage, still unable to pull her eyes away. It was not quite as long as her husband's, nor as husky, but she could almost feel it already inside her when Stan dropped to his knees between her legs.
"No build-up, Stan," she said hoarsely as he leaned over her to take his position. "Lord knows I don't need that. Just let's do it." Nor were she and the red-haired man the only ones interested in the proceedings.
Jason was enthralled over the fact that another man was about to lay his wife. He had no explanation for this rapt interest. In truth, it never even occurred to him an explanation existed. By the time Cherry had raised her knees, snuggling then against the sides of the man atop her, Jason had twisted around and lay on his stomach, his face within inches of his wife's buttocks and his eyes on the point of action.
He saw both of Cherry's hands plunge down between her and Stan; saw one hand grab the hardened shaft, and the other spread her cleft to plant the shaft's end exactly where it was needed. A second later Stan began pushing with his hips and Jason saw the shaft being gobbled greedily into his wife's famished bell y.
When barely half of it had passed from sight Cherry's thin, trilling scream filled the rumpus room. With frantic hips she began lunging at the invading pale, searching for the rest of it with a burning urgency before her partner could sink it all the way.
Now, Jason had seen his wife struggling in the clutches of orgiastic holocaust many times before. He knew her seizures were powerful and frequently close together, but she and his broker were scarcely firmly coupled before a spasm was upon her and the trilling scream changed abruptly to a feline snarl. As Jason continued to observe, having drawn back a few feet in order to take in the whole picture, her internal holocaust continued. It forced from her small, dainty body a display of rapture gone berserk such as he never expected to witness again and, judging from Stan Constiner's frenzied maneuvering, it was all the man could do to remain in the saddle.
"Some show, eh?" A soft feminine voice filtered through the mating couple's ragged noises. Jason rolled over to see-lush and naked-Marsha Constiner standing near him. She carried a large black purse which she walked over to place beside the linen closet, then returned to him.
When she approached, her eyes fell upon his rock-hard war club, angling sharply up his belly from the top of his long legs. She paused in mid-stride, her eyes growing large with surprise and delight, and as she stood there staring at him, Jason traveled his eyes with savoring slowness over her superb body.
Though he had never seen her nude before, he was aware that he had either been mistaken about her being a bit on the heavy side or else she had lost weight. Even so, she was still broader than Cherry by a fraction, though no taller.
Marsha had hair black as a raven's wing; both on her head, and on the pussy that peeked at him coyly from between her well rounded thighs. Her complexion was as white as her hair was black, and her huge breasts, with their nipples of deep tan, swayed comfortably from side to side when she moved.
After one hurried glance to where his wife lay screwing with Marsha's husband he patted the space beside him.
"Don't be bashful," he grinned. The exhibition by Cherry and Stan that he'd been witnessing had him so thoroughly aroused his palms felt sticky and his jewels were drawn tight against his crotch.
"Who's bashful?" She returned his grin, her face lighting with a glad light. "I was just admiring your ... equipment. I thought Stan had a whopper, but ... " She stretched forth a hand and stroked his rigid pacifier. "Mmmmmm ... "
By way of repaying the gesture he began toying with her pussy. At his touch she sucked breath into her lungs and her huge breasts rose. A wee shivering brought goose bumps to her arms and legs.
"Haven't you lost some weight?" he asked as he began rotating a finger around on her clitoris.
"Twen ... twenty pounds," she gasped, pulling her legs apart. "Kiss me, Jason."
He roll ed toward her without removing his finger from her cleft and lowered his lips to hers. Tiny shocks of delicious lightening trickled through him as her pink tongue darted into his mouth. Marsha moaned softly and drew her legs still farther apart.
"I'm glad you could come over," he said when their lips parted.
Her smile was soft and warm. "I'm glad I was asked to come. I've wanted to feel you between my legs for a long time, Jason. Can we do it once real quick to take the pressure off? Then we can talk. Do you mind?"
"Open your legs a bit wider." It was not necessary for him to say this. By the time he finished the words, she was prepared.
Number two, he said to himself as he moved to suspend his weight above her. Emma was number one, and Marsha was number two. He wondered how many women he would be forced to have sex with before his affliction vanished and he could return to his darling little Cherry once more. Not that diddling various and sundry women was an unpleasant chore. It was anything but that, although it was indeed an unusual form of therapy. But goddam it, nature should permit a man to enjoy sex with the woman he was in love with. Nature should make allowances for a couple desperately in love with each other.
"Take it easy to begin," Marsha whispered as he lodged the great knob-like head of his ready cock securely between the divided wall s of her cleft. "Hah!" she gasped when the hot kiss of his rod touched her vulva. "Oh-boy-oh-boy-oh-boy!"
Jason's position was similar to that of an athlete completing a push-up exercise. His upper body was supported by his straight arms, with only his knees and toes touching the padded floor. The only place he was touching Marsha was at the point of coupling, and he held his position, looking down between them at the end of his shaft against the gateway to rapture, for several seconds.
Marsha held her bent legs in a high, "wide Y," waiting breathlessly for him to proceed, her dewy lips parted and in her eyes a look of intense hunger. Then he moved in, still-with his gaze on the place their bodies touched. With his hips he applied gentle force, and heard Marsha's quiet grunt of satisfaction as the pressure of his shaft's head pushed it into the moist hotness of her vulva sphincter.
"Oh, Jason, it feels so good," she moaned weakly.
He didn't answer, but began a slow rotating action with his hips, pressing toward her all the while and still looking down, feeling the delicious heat creep up along his cock as it bored deeper and deeper into her willing bell y. Nor did he stop watching until the searing kiss of her .straddle was tightly around the base of his cudgel and his jewels dangled down in the cleavage of her taut buttocks. Then he eased his weight down against her and braced himself on his elbows.
When he did this, the soft planes and gentle angles of her face crumpled as if she were on the verge of tears and her words reminded him of an expression Cherry had used earlier in the night.
"Ooommm, Jason," she sobbed softly against his chest. "I don't know if I can stand it."
Jason had never considered himself especially endowed with penis. Prior to his marriage to Cherry he had wandered through a number of casual romances, all of which had been rather difficult to break off, because once his love of the moment got the thrill of his hugeness caressing her deep within, she became possessive in her attitude, or unreasonable in her demands. Still, he'd never thought of himself as a master bedroom tactician. Nevertheless, when he heard Marsha's impassioned comment expressing doubt that she would be able to endure his tender attentions, an idea came to his mind.
The idea was a tactic which would greatly prolong and intensify Marsha's agonizing rapture-only possible for him to employ because twice already Emma had brought him to a thundering climax. His need for further sexual relief was still very much with him, but because of Emma's ministrations he was convinced he could control himself better than the young woman beneath him.
His plan was this: Start his action and continue it until Marsha was on the point of exploding, then stop without letting her go off, and wait until she simmered down before starting his action again-then repeating the process. When he did finally let her go all the way, she would experience something she'd not soon forget. Anyway, it was worth a try.
Slowly he withdrew the big cudgel far to the rear, then glided it solidly all the way home. A mewling fluttered from Marsha's throat. He advanced another cycle, and she made the sound a second time as Jason felt spasming muscles deep inside her squeeze his cock. He stopped.
Her eyes were closed, and her jaw was clinched, as she tossed her head from side to side, her breathing sobby. Jason felt her belly muscles twitch against him a time or two; after a long, drawn-out sigh, she opened her eyes. For a full minute she studied his face before she spoke.
"That was close, but why did you stop?"
"The night's young yet," he parried. "Do we have to rush?"
"Not if you don't want to ... ooh, Jason, but you feel good inside me. And it's better than I dreamed it would be."
"Then you weren't kidding when you said you'd wanted me between your legs for a longtime." Before she could answer he withdrew once more and plunged the invader home. She grunted explosively, her stare became fixed, and he stopped.
"You certainly know how to treat a woman," she murmured, kissing his chest and hunching against the buried shaft.
"Let's rest a moment." When he said this he eased his "weight down against her and she lowered her legs, placing her feet behind the bend of his knees.
"How's that?" She reached up to rumple his hair with one hand, her eyes dreamy, while he turned his head sideways in order to see what Cherry and Stan were doing twenty feet away.
His wife and the red-haired man were still frantically fighting each other with their hips. Cherry was clutching Stan with her thighs and matching his rhythm with that of her own, meeting his thrusts like a woman starving. Jason smiled to himself. His little darling would feel like a new woman in the morning, bless her heart. And he was determined that she continue to feel like a new woman each morning hereafter. He hadn't truly realized how desperate was her need for a man until he'd witnessed her starving twat gobbling at Stan's rod a while ago. Even though they'd already agreed on permissible infidelity, he'd promised himself then and there his Cherry would never again suffer from lack of a man simply because he was unable to service her properly. Then he remembered something he'd planned to ask Stan and Marsha.
"What is this friendship club you and Stan belong to?" He hoisted his weight to his elbows once more, and looked down at her as she answered.
"It's a group of young married couples who get together and do what the four of us are doing right now."
"You mean ... the men trade wives, and the women trade husbands."
"In effect, yes."
"Where do you meet?"
"In various homes." A smile curved her ripe mouth. "This rumpus room would make an ideal meeting place." She maneuvered her smoldering straddle delicately against the hilt of his buried shaft. "Oh my god," she breathed hotly. "If you don't hurry up and administer to me properly I'm going to come anyway." She wrinkled her nose at him prettily. "I know what you're trying to do-building me up to a certain point, then stopping before I can go all the way."
He grinned at her. "I guess I'm not so cunning after all." If the secret was out, he decided, it was no secret any longer, thereby losing its attractiveness. Anyway, a mighty storm had been brewing in his own loins since he'd first planted his cudgel between her thighs, with his own need growing by leaps and bounds. His self-control wasn't as strong as he'd thought it was going to be. "Here we go."
Once more he began the gentle churning of his massive invader into her inner regions; he had completed half a dozen cycles when he realized his own victory was much closer than he'd thought. Skin behind his ears tightened. His arm pits tingled from the forthcoming seizure. Suddenly he was snapping his hips to the rear, then slamming his shots home with pile-driving force. The first of these shots brought immediate reaction from Marsha.
"Hoi" The sound was knocked from her by the vigor of Jason's enthusiasm. She repeated it. "Ho!" And continued to repeat it each time the massive marauder plunged into her belly until the sweet fire grabbed her.
This happened the instant she heard Jason's ragged sob of release and felt the scalding gushes of man-seed flooding her secret places. She ceased making the sound then, and lost touch with reality. The sweet fire was upon her.
Her guttural, strangled scream tore around the room. Her legs shot out to the side; her balled fists smote the padded floor, and her milky complexion turned a dull red. Her eyes had a wild, glassy look as she commenced to babble incoherently, beating the air with her legs and bucking under him like a bronc with a burr under its saddle. Tiny bits of froth gathered at the corners of her mouth, and she chewed her tongue as if possessed with demons. Her frenzied contortions between Jason and the floor moved the two of them in jerks and starts toward the spot where Cherry and Stan lay.
Again her strangled scream ricocheted off the walls of the rumpus room. The raging inferno of sweet fire sweeping through her offered no surcease from blinding rapture-from excruciating bliss that threatened to stop her breath.
Jason was only dimly aware of her savage response, fighting as he was in the throes of his own brutal climax, and continuing automatically to hunch with fierce vehemence against her fiery crotch.
Neither of them knew, then or later, exactly how or when it happened. They only knew that, somehow, during her wild-eyed, mad-woman contortions, Marsha managed to bring her right leg u pbetween them, roll to her left side, then lunge to her hands and knees. Nor was their coupling ever broken. Within the flick of an eyelash Jason, but seconds past pounding away at her belly to belly, had a vice-grip on her hips and was pounding away at her from behind, on his knees.
More than ever Marsha bucked like a bronc, clawing and scratching her way over the floor.