Chapter 2
Don's curiosity was lost in a sudden resurgence of lust. Lita stopped uttering her strange words and began to moan in earnest, panting harder and flinging her arms from side to side. She was going to come ... even before he did! That knowledge erased his last lingering fear and he used all his strength in an agonizing attempt to reach his own orgasm. He'd told himself that he didn't care if lita came or not, that he was simply using her to satisfy his own need. But the truth was that he would have felt exposed as an inadequate lover if he hadn't been able to bring her to climax.
She screamed softly as she raked her nails through his straight, brown hair and over his shoulders as the spasms swept through her. But he couldn't let her go yet and he pumped furiously into her suddenly limp body.
Lita pulled herself together and pushed up at him, twisting her pelvis, trying to help him.
He felt the tightening of his testicles as they swelled to their fullest, ready to discharge their hot load. The gripping, heart-stopping tumult of his orgasm sent his breath rasping harshly through his lips. He groaned and sighed and clutched her, and she went limp in complete surrender. They lay like that for long moments, the only sound in the room the heavy breathing as their hearts slowed and their languorous bodies recovered.
His mind began to work again. He thought first of the danger, but he assured himself that Lita would have to keep the secret too. She wouldn't dare tell anyone because, after all, he hadn't raped her. She had been more than willing; in fact, she'd started it all.
Pushing back her mop of auburn hair, he looked down into her piquant face. She lay as if asleep, her blue-shadowed eyes closed and the long dark lashes resting on her pale cheeks. He tried to think the whole thing through. What the hell had she been whimpering? Something about Brenda ... about her lying. He puzzled over that but couldn't find an answer.
Don shifted his shoulders, easing the muscle strain. The whole thing was too much for him at the moment, but he did know one thing for sure: this was only a beginning. He wanted this gorgeous, uninhibited body again and he meant to have it. If Brenda didn't like that, she had only herself to blame. Not that Brenda needed to know, as long as Lita was as clever as he suspected.
Eventually they had to move, to get up and wash and dress and share a cigarette. Don asked her about meeting again, and she reminded him of the Saturday night party. He said that was not at all what he had in mind, but she only laughed and told him to wait and see.
It was maddening. He told her what she'd said about Brenda and she blushed and apologized, but that was all. She refused to explain her statement.
After she was gone, he showered and picked up the living room, guiltily plumping the sofa cushions and opening windows to get rid of her perfume and the odors of their lovemaking. He tried to settle down again at the dining room table, where his books were spread out. But he couldn't concentrate, couldn't work.
The thoughts he had been avoiding insisted on creeping into his brain. like it or not, the whole scene pointed to one inescapable conclusion. For some unexplained reason, Brenda must have hinted that he, her husband, was either not interested in sex or was inept.
That was the only explanation that made sense. He reviewed it all again and again, but it always came back to the same thing. First, Lita would not, could not, have made a habit of seducing her neighbors' husbands. She'd have been in bad trouble long before. Besides, she was not that stupid. Yet she had very definitely flirted with Don and tried to arouse him.
She must have felt safe.
Later, when it had been too late to back out, all she'd had to say was that Brenda was a liar.
The only way it made sense was if Lita happened to be one of those females who simply couldn't resist a challenge, if her curiosity was so strong she had to find out for herself. She had to have a fling at succeeding where another woman had failed. That was why she'd flirted so outrageously, fondling his leg and letting him tongue-kiss her. She was no real nympho, he'd have sworn to it.
He had to laugh. Instead of the capon she'd expected, she'd got the horniest and most frustrated husband in town! And of course, as things progressed, she must have found her own passion aroused so strongly that she'd gone ahead and completed the act, in spite of her original intentions.
So much for Lita. That left the problem of
Brenda.
Don thought of his wife the way she used to be, and even the memory made his hands tingle and his breath come quickly. She had been a virgin when they met, and he'd seduced her and married her all in the space of a few months. Don was sure she'd never had another man besides himself.
For a virginal, well-brought-up girl, Brenda had shown an amazing amount of sexual passion. In the early years of their marriage, all he had to do was pat her on the fanny while she was washing dishes and she'd turn to him, stripping the soap suds off her arms, ready to get fucked right there on the kitchen floor.
They'd been poor but happy, trite as it seemed. Don had been working for a plumbing contractor and they had little money for amusements, but they could be happy with a six-pack of beer and each other. Her big, full-breasted body seemed made for love. Not that she was heavy, he thought defensively, but rather voluptuously well built. Her waist was small, her tummy flat. But her curved hips and firm ass were excitingly feminine, to say nothing of her bouncing breasts.
He remembered one weekend in particular, when they'd spent an entire two days in bed. Time after time, when he thought he was completely exhausted and fucked out, Brenda had brought him back to throbbing, vigorous life with her mouth and tongue. All she knew about sex was what he'd taught her, and naturally he'd taught her all the ways he liked best.
When she went down on him, Don thought it was as near to perfect happiness as he'd get in this life. Her warm lips circling his cock, her busy tongue licking, her dexterous fingers cupping and tickling his balls ... it was enough to rouse a corpse, much less a lustful bridegroom.
Somehow they'd lost that happiness even though he had become successful in business, with his own plumbing supply business. They had bought this house only three months ago and they admired it intensely, filled with pride because it was theirs. Everything in it was brand new and the best they could find.
Brenda had more money to spend on clothes and enough to afford a cleaning woman if she wanted one, but she preferred to do her own work. She said that even then, she didn't have enough to keep her busy.
At least that had been her excuse for taking a part-time job as a receptionist at the hospital. He felt a little bit hurt by it but he had reasons for letting her please herself. She never said it was because they didn't have children, but he understood.
Don felt somewhat bored himself. His business was so well organized that it almost ran itself.
The proof of that was his having to bring the books home to go over them. Only two years ago, he would have known by heart every painfully collected payment and worrisome debit. But his office staff and salesmen were so good that he was left with too little to do.
Although he understood, he wished she'd try a different solution. Even though she might find satisfaction in a job, it didn't help solve their sexual problems, which had begun about a year ago and had gradually grown worse. She had headaches, she was tired and snappish. She was cold.
Don had done some reading and some talking with other men, and he thought he knew what the problem was with their marriage.
"Marriages can't help going sour after a while," one of the guys had told him. "It's like having apple pie every day. Hell, I love apple pie; it's my favorite dessert. But a year or two of it and I'd sure be glad to switch to lemon or cherry."
Swapping. That's what he'd been getting at. Or swinging, as Don understood a lot of the people preferred to call it. It was going on all over the country. Openly in places like California, hidden here in the Midwest, where they lived. Scrambling for the house keys thrown in the middle of the living room floor, on a drunken Saturday night. Writing ads and answering them. Meeting strangers at restaurants and motels, and looking them over.
Don read a lot and thought a lot before he ever mentioned it to Brenda. When he did, her reaction puzzled him. She wasn't the least bit shocked at the idea.
"Why shouldn't they?" she asked. "It's not as if you could wear it out. And if the couples love each other, it's certainly better than having affairs oh the side. More power to them, I'd say."
But it was always "them" and never "us".
Don showed her some of the advertisements. "Look, honey, these people sound nice and they're only fifty miles away. We could meet them somewhere in between, maybe for a nice dinner. And if either of us didn't like them, that would be it."
"Don, you've got to be kidding!" She was so alarmed, she got up and paced around the room. "What, us go to bed with strangers?"
He could kind of see her point, at that. It was a bit cold-blooded, meeting for the express purpose of swapping sexual partners. So he tried something else.
"I had lunch with George today, honey. We had a couple drinks and a long talk. Guess what?" Don had always suspected that Brenda had a secret yen for his old friend George. And his wife, Penny, was a real doll. He wouldn't have minded getting into that one's pants.
"Penny and ol' George have been doing what we were talking about. Swapping. How about that?"
"Don, you didn't ... "
"No, no, honey. I didn't suggest anything. But why not? It wouldn't be like doing it with strangers."
But she didn't go for that, either.
It was along about that time that Brenda began to have those bedtime headaches and all the other things. She stayed up late watching television, obviously hoping he'd be asleep when she came to bed. She seemed to have her period every other week, and he never had the nerve to challenge her. She had more excuses than a cheating husband. The truth was that she just didn't like sex any more.
And the worst part of it came when she did let him make love to her. She lay there like a lump and let him screw her, and she refused to try any of those variations she'd once seemed to love. He wished he'd asked Lita to go down on him, but that might have scared her off. Maybe next time, because he'd sure love to get some head ... and to give a little, too.
Don gave up trying to work. He said the hell with it and headed for the liquor cupboard in the kitchen. Neither he nor Brenda drank much but this time he broke loose the ice cubes and poured himself a hefty slug of Scotch, with the tiniest sprinkle of water.
He was getting horny again, just thinking about it. Brenda and Lita. Lita and Brenda. Did Brenda really believe he was having some kind of sex problem? He ran his mind back over the past year and could find absolutely no justification for that. It was Brenda who had the problem!
He discovered his glass was empty and filled it again. By the time Brenda's key pushed into the lock, Don was not only drunk but very, very angry.
"Hello, darling," she said. "Get much done today?"
She was a beautiful woman, no getting around it. Hungrily he eyed her full breasts and swelling hips. No man could possibly live with that and stay cold! he told himself.
"You'd be surprised," he said darkly. "C'mere and talk to me. Here, I've got a drink for you."
"A drink? Oh, Don, that's much too strong."
"Drink it, damn it! I want to ask you some questions."
But when she sipped from the glass he discovered he didn't really want to talk at all. He wanted something, all right, but not talking.
"Wassa matter, honey? You keep puttin' me off?" He reached out, his hands clamping on her breasts. "Drink up. We're gonna' fuck."
He could see she was getting excited. Pink flooded her cheeks and her eyes got that glossy, swimmy look he used to know so well. But she backed away, shaking her head.
"Wassa matter, honey? Don'cha wanna fuck any more? How come you told that Lita your old man's no good in the sack?"
Brenda stared at him, the color draining from her face. "What are you talking about?"
She began shaking her head as he started to tell her. He tried to hide the fact that he had fucked Lita, but his brain wasn't too clear. Brenda watched him and listened, looking frightened.
"You must have misunderstood," she said faintly. "You know I love you, Don."
As if to prove it, she stood up and began to undress. "You'd better not be too drunk," she warned him. "You've gone this far; you better get it up."
He looked down as he stripped off his pants and discovered, to his gratification, that he had a partial erection. That was great, better than if he'd planned it.
"You c'n do it," he said craftily.
They fell back together on the sofa and he fondled her huge breasts. "So long .. . it's been so long," he whimpered.
He lowered his head and, holding one breast in his hands, began to lick and suck it. He covered it with kisses and ran his tongue over its yielding weight.
Brenda reached between their bodies and got hold of his cock. It was harder but still not fully erect. She slowly ran her hand over it. Don trembled as her touch made it throb from base to head.
He had her going, he knew. He nibbled one of her tits and she began to moan softly as her fingers clutched the swelling rod. The head, like a swollen purple fist, oozed juices and she dipped her little finger into the tiny slit, rubbing the moisture around. He got on top of her, straddling her so his pulsing rod lay between her breasts.
"Kiss it," he begged her. "C'mon, honey, do me like you used to. Kiss and suck it for me, honey, please."