Chapter 8

JOAN TRIED TO POSTPONE WAKING UP, but it was no go. The pleasant limbo of drifting in a twilight world was shattered when she saw the hands of the alarm clock. They pointed to 3:00-a time of afternoon when decent people were already planning their dinner menu. She groaned, wondering why she felt so sore.

Then memory came flooding back, and she wished that she never had to return to the land of the living. She glanced at Bill, who looked so innocent in his slumber, and decided that a good breakfast was a must. He could turn into a growling bear without coffee, juice, and solid food, in that order.

By the time he joined her, having followed his nose to the heavenly aromas of bacon and eggs frying, she looked like any respectable housewife. Hair tied back neatly with a ribbon, the ugly welts covered by a robe, nobody would have guessed that she had spent a portion of the previous night suffering under the hands of a sadistic female.

But when she bent down to pour the coffee, Bill noticed the tell-tale marks across her breasts. "Hey! What's this?" he demanded.

His look of outrage made her break down and sob out the truth. He let her tell it in her own way, but he couldn't keep his anger under wraps for long. "What a bitch! I always knew there was something weird about that gal, but I could never put a name to it before."

"Yes, but that isn't the point. This never would have happened if you had let me have a child, and be a normal wife and mother. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Not that again! You know how I stand on that subject. We just can't afford to have a kid yet, that's all there is to it. Now, be honest and admit that if you weren't working-and making a damn good income, I might add-we couldn't possibly manage to keep the house. Or anything else, for that matter."

"Oh, you're just using money as an excuse. If we had to get by on your paycheck, we could. There are lots of ways we could cut down. I want a child now, while we're young enough to enjoy it, not when we're old fogies with no patience left. I can't explain it, but I just have the feeling that if we don't do it now, we never will."

Bill still had his doubts, but he knew in his heart that she was right. "And how about you? You still look like a child yourself. Are you sure you're ready to go through all that? Raising a child is a big responsibility, you know."

"Other young couples have managed. We wouldn't be pioneers, you know. Besides, if we don't get out of that cursed club, there's no telling where it will end. What happened last night just goes to show how cruel some people can be, given half a chance."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. It's exciting and all that, but we've been getting in too deep. After all, I guess it wouldn't do to have junior read that his parents had been arrested for participating in a sex orgy, would it?"

"Oh, Bill, I'm so happy!" she exclaimed. Her enthusiasm made her ignore her aches and pains, and she threw her arms impulsively around his neck.

"Boy, I feel like I've just been given my draft notice! Slow down a minute, will you? I want to know if you've been taking your pills on schedule. After all, if we're going to have a baby, I want to be sure it's mine!"

"Silly! Of course I have." With his permission, she called her boss and tendered her resignation, effective that day. Bill was all primed to start their family right off, but she held back; there was still a problem to be solved.

"How can I face them, day after day?" By "them", she meant the club members. "I'll keep running into them all over town, and it'll be awkward as hell, trying to act like nothing ever happened."

Bill kissed her gently, as if she was already a mother-to-be. "You've got a point there. Besides, it might prove too much of a temptation, anyway. We'll put the house up for sale and clear out of this garbage dump."

They went off to christen their new lease on life, and Joan wisely refrained from mentioning his part in the club's activities. But she would not soon forget the avid look on his face as he'd fought for the privilege of riding on Bev's peculiar merry-go-round.

The gang congregated early that same day at Bert and Maggie's place. Nobody had been able to get in touch with Joan and Bill, and they waited in vain for them to make their appearance. Then somebody remembered the "For Sale" sign that was staked out in front of their house. A silence fell over the group as they added up two and two. The only possible answer was that they had chosen to drop out of the club.

Suddenly, they felt vulnerable somehow. Perhaps they felt that there was a certain safety in numbers. Whatever the reason, the party was slow in getting started.

Steve was the first to break the silence. "Well, I guess that party got too rough for them, so they picked up their pants and went home."

This unoriginal remark did the trick, and they began to plan the evening's entertainment. There was a wooded area behind the house that inspired a new twist to Steve's ever vigilant mind. "Why don't we have an old-fashioned fox hunt? Only we'll be the hounds hunting down the prey."

"Tally ho!" they voted unanimously.

"It sure beats shuffleboard," Jerry commented. "That is, providing our little foxes are willing. How about it, girls?"

There was a murmur of agreement, but Bev made one stipulation. "I think we should be allowed a ten-minute head start. After all, we're not built like men-" She bowed in recognition of the compliment, and continued. "Anyway, it stands to reason that we need more time just to get through the woods, let alone find a hiding place."

"That's right," Pam backed her up. "We don't want to make it too easy, or there won't be any challenge."

Steve, acting as spokesman for the rest, accepted the terms. "Okay. Ten minutes it is. We'll synchronize our watches and use the time to plan our strategy."

Laughing and giggling like teen-agers hot on the trail of their favorite idol, the women left the comfort of the house behind and spread out to brave the forest primeval.

Steve mapped out a general set of instructions to follow. "Let's not sit here and twiddle our thumbs. There're a few things to get straight before the hunt begins. Now, the first one of us to make contact will have to give a signal of some kind. That way, we'll know how many are left, and have a pretty fair idea of where not to search."

Jerry left the room and came back with some whistles he'd borrowed from the kids. "These should be just the thing," he said, demonstrating by blowing a shrill blast that could be heard from quite a distance. He passed them out, but came up with one short. "Sorry, Bob. I guess you'll just have to let out a whoop or something."

"Don't worry about me, pal. When I make connection, you'll know it, all right."

There was nothing to do now but wait, so they shot the bull to pass the time. Bert said, "It's too bad that Bill and Joan chickened out. She sure was a cute little broad. I wonder why they pulled out like that?"

Nobody had an answer for him, so Bob changed the subject. "This reminds me of the old days, before a mission. I've got that same tensed feeling."

"Oh, you were in the service too, huh?" Steve asked. "We'll have to get together and swap stories sometime. And souvenirs. Did you collect many of them?"

Bob pulled a sour face. "Only some I didn't want," he said.

Just then, Jerry noticed that it was time to go, and he stood up and tried to emulate a bugler's call to arms. This broke up the confab they were having, and reminded them of their targets. "Come on, comrades. It's every man for himself."

They filed out the door, marching in unison. Once outside, they split up to begin the fox hunt that had turned into a war game. It was just as well that there was no ammunition handy, for, judging by their present mood, the women might have been subjected to an attack of a different sort.

But there were no mishaps to speak of.

Pam was hoping that Steve would be the one to find her, but the rules of the game were based on chance, and any show of preference was taboo. She had camouflaged herself by choosing a clump of bushes to hide behind. She was only partially hidden, but it gave her the advantage of being able to see whoever was pursuing her.

A sudden snapping of a twig announced the arrival of a trespasser. He was still too far away to be identified, and, as he searched the area, circling closer to her hideout, she felt an uncanny fear creep over her. Common sense told her that the man hunting her down was a friend, but some baser instinct made her sit frozen, unable to move or cry out-like a trapped animal.

Bob's good-natured face appeared from out of no-here and peered in at her, Pan-like. "Thank heaven, it's only you!" she cried.

"That's a fine how-do-you-do," he said, in an injured tone.

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way. It's just that ... for a minute there ... I got this horrible feeling, and I was half expecting to see some inhuman creature drooling over me."

He produced a flask from his hip pocket, and held it to her lips. "Here. Take a good swig of this."

She swallowed deeply, choking and gagging on the straight whiskey.

"Feel better now?" he asked.

She nodded, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand.

"Now, if you can conjure up a pack of cigarettes, I'll be all set."

He lit one for her, studying her face as he did so. Up to now, he hadn't bothered to wonder much about her, accepting her role as Jerry's wife at face value; but all of a sudden, he wanted to know her better. He cleared his throat to warn her that he was about to broach a serious subject, and took the plunge. "Ahem. Unaccustomed as I am to playing the busybody, I hope you won't mind if I ask a personal question."

"Fire away, but I can't promise to answer it."

"Well, I can't help wondering why you two got involved in this oddball club. You and Jerry seem more settled than the rest of us. With the children and all, I mean," he finished lamely.

"Ouch! You really know how to hurt a person, don't you? I feel like I've aged ten years during the last few minutes."

Bob knew that her breezy answer was merely intended to give her time to think, so he said nothing. When she turned to face him, he put his arm around her in a brotherly fashion, and she snuggled comfortably against him.

"All right, Here goes nothing. You must have gathered that Jerry and I haven't been hitting it off, anyway. You see, when I married Jerry, I wanted somebody strong, somebody I could lean on. I soon discovered that I had the original mama's boy for a husband. I don't know the whole story myself, but it's quite obvious that his mother neglected him when he was a child, and now he sees in me the mother that he never had. I've even tried treating him like one of the kids, but it didn't work. He's actually jealous of his own children!"

She buried her face in this jacket, unable to go on, and he rocked her while she cried it out. He had suspected something of the sort, but he'd had no idea that Jerry was that bad. The poor kid! No wonder she'd been so eaeer that night in the car.

Pam borrowed his hanky and dabbed at her eyes. She felt an enormous sense of relief, as though some of the burden had been transferred to Bob's capable shoulders. In her gratitude, she remembered that she had left out the part about Steve and the strange fascination he held for her. Well, that could keep. She had bent Bob's ear long enough; now she wanted to repay him for his interest.

She removed the lightweight jacket she was wearing and Bob fashioned a pillow of sorts for her head. Her heart warmed to him and she felt a strong desire to please this friendly, understanding man. Without the burden of that crazy desire that Steve fired in her, she could concentrate on giving.

Knowing that half the pleasure of anything is anticipating, she asked Bob to lie back and close his eyes. She took her place beside him and, without touching him anywhere, began to whisper into his ear. Her sultry voice rose and fell, describing in no uncertain terms what she wanted him to do to her, and the suggestions she planted in his mind carried a message to every nerve center.

The urgent litany went on and on, designed to excite and titillate his senses. Then the husky voice came to a halt, and she let him match the actions to the words. They stood up to undress in full view of one another, and gazed upon each others' bodies with a kind of awe. Certainly, the body beautiful was nothing new to them, but the insight they had achieved gave their lovemaking a new meaning.

"Touch me, Bob. The way you did in the car that night."

As his index finger repeated the probing, teasing gesture, she returned the favor by grabbing hold of his extended rod and pumping it gently. "Now," she whispered. "Hurt me with it, please..."

Bob had been ready for some time now, and he fell upon her without regard for fragile bones or tender flesh. She had made it very plain that she was tired of being treated with tender loving care, so he penetrated her ruthlessly, without hesitation.

Her reaction was pure joy as he pounded her into the ground. She was submissive at first, waiting for him to spark all the crazy desires that she was capable of feeling.

Then it was as though some built-in timer went off, bringing her to life, and she found herself clawing at his back and heaving beneath him. Her efforts were equal to that of a wrestler, pinned to the mat by his opponent and struggling to rise. Only her struggle had nothing to do with extricating herself. This bout could only end in a tie.

The blood she'd drawn with her fingernails had caked up and dried on his back when the fierce battle came to an end. Bob's face wore some scratches too, and he was left with the guilty feeling that he had actually raped a woman.

Surely, no woman had ever struggled harder against an honest-to-goodness assailant. It made him wonder if she might have been half wishing for some brutal, inhuman monster to find her in the woods. People had some strange and terrible cravings sometimes.

But, he mentioned nothing about the peculiar match, nor the bad taste it had left him with. They were friends again, and God knows she had reason to act a wee bit peculiar. Putting his arm around her, they made their way back to the house, and he tucked such uncharitable thoughts away.

By this time, Steve, the great white hunter, had stumbled upon Allison. Sheer accident had led him to the spot, but instinct made him creep up silently to view his victim. His narcissistic wife was admiring her reflection in the shimmering water of a small pond. The sun's rays spilled over the water, turning the pond into an oversized mirror that was flawless.

As he watched her drinking in her own beauty, Steve hesitated. Admittedly, she had something to admire, all right, but he knew her inside and out. It would be a long time before she would be able to tear herself away from her self-absorption. By that time, a guy could lose his hard-on.

It was with some regret that Steve left her, but his motto was first things first. That kind of stuff was okay after he had shot his wad, but right now he wanted somebody who was ready, willing, and able. He decided to continue his search for greener pastures.

The space he vacated was soon filled by Bert, who was in no big rush. He feasted his eyes on Allison and took up a position some distance behind her. Because he wanted to observe her unawares, he sat quietly, letting his eves do the moving.

It was some time before Allison became aware of him. A ragged breath gave him away, but she pretended not to notice him-he would enjoy the show all the more. The peasant blouse she wore was low cut, and the loosely gathered bodice made it easy for her to reach inside and release her precious boobs, one at a time. She fondled them tenderly, watching as her twin in the water did the same. Then she stretched full-length at the edge of the water, supporting herself by her elbows, so that the pointed nipples could stab at the surface. Her action created tiny little ripples that did not distort her image.

When the nipples came to the surface, the cold water had turned them hard and stiff, and they were encircled by goose pimples. She stood up, and the sun streamed through her skirt, seeming to focus on the shadow at her loins, and Bert could see that she hadn't bothered to wear any panties.

Turning sideways, so as to give him the best possible view, she removed both blouse and skirt in one fluid motion. She paused for effect, stretching upward on tiptoe, still apparently unaware of any audience.

Then she squatted down, sitting on her heels, giving herself and her interested observer a first-hand look at what the sun had merely outlined. As if it were jealous, the sun chose this moment to hide behind a cloud and refused to come out.

Her plans were halted temporarily, but when the sun gave in and returned for another look-see, she was able to continue the ritual. Spreading her legs slightly, she placed her palm beneath her, with the middle finger extended.

Bert wished he was sitting closer, but he knew what she was doing, and his imagination filled in the rest. His penis knew, too, as it stirred once again, ready to begin the old, familiar pattern of thrust and withdraw. He supposed he should speak up, before she went too far, but he was enjoying himself too much for that. It wasn't often that a man had the chance to play Peeping Tom without fear of the consequences.

A few moments later, he was shocked into mobility by Allison's direct command. "Whoever you are, you'd better take me now, or forget the whole bit. Time's a wastin'. "

Bert jumped to his feet to rescue the damsel in distress, covering the distance between them in one leap. He hadn't felt this frisky since he was a snot-nosed kid, competing in school sports.

Allison hadn't been kidding when she threw him that dare, either. She hardly gave him time to unzip his pants before she was all over the place, practically devouring him in her eagerness. Bert's patience was amply rewarded by her sudden transformation into a wanton, abandoned creature.

Bert took full advantage of the situation, basking in her need for him and feeling every inch a man. He could hardly take credit for turning her on, for he hadn't even known which button to push. She'd done it all by herself. He glanced down at her face, to catch a curious mixture of joy and superiority lingering there. A few seconds later, he was beyond caring what had made her this way ... he was too busy catering to her strange lusts to wonder where she had acquired them.

The woods were full of quail tonight, and Steve was ready to bag his limit. The trail was getting warmer, and he gave some thought to who would be waiting at the end of it. With Allison out of the running, and one signal to go by, he knew that there were two left. He had no idea which of the three remaining choices-Pam, Maggie, or Bev-would be his target. The situation reminded him of the time he had played Russian roulette, when he was in the service. At the time, it had seemed sensible enough. After all, what difference did it make if you blew your own head off, or if somebody else did it for you? The only way you could possibly survive life and all its problems was to play it for kicks.

But this was better. A whole lot better, under these conditions. It was great fun to chase after tail, and not knowing who you'd end up with put added spice into it. Not that it made any difference, really. After all, a broad was a broad, and he made no distinction between them.

Take Pam, for instance. Anyone with one eye could tell that she was hot-for him, that is. That prissy husband of hers was still wet behind the ears. It galled him when Jerry put on airs. Acting like a real he-man, and all that crap. When it came right down to it, he was nothing but a mother-humper, begging for the titty.

Now, Bev was a nice piece of ass. And Bob seemed to be a nice enough guy. He hadn't quite got him pegged yet, though. There must be some little preference he had that would give him away. Nearly everyone had a secret desire buried deep in his subconscious. He just hadn't discovered Bob's yet.

Maggie-she was a real winner. No pretense with her. She was just a whore at heart, but that was okay with him. She could make a man get it up just by looking at him. The only trouble came when she was through with him-then she gave the impression that she'd like to castrate him. Maybe, though, she got that way on account of Bert. That bird was a latent homosexual if ever he'd seen one.

His meanderings came to an abrupt halt when he spotted Maggie, just sitting and smoking. She looked a little nervous, too. It must be the atmosphere, he decided, that made the women a little uneasy. All except Allison, of course. As long as there was a mirror around, or a reasonable facsimile, she was in her element. Sometimes he thought it pained her to look at him, with his hairy chest and legs. Yet, he knew that she was no Lesbian. In fact, there were times when he had her begging on her knees, just to have him put it into her. Which is why he stuck around. He lived for those golden moments when he had her in his power.

Maggie's foot was jerking restlessly, and she looked like she was getting fed up with the whole deal. She was wearing skin-tight capri pants that accentuated her cushiony ass and hugged her crotch. And Steve was about ready to end her ordeal when she stood uo and stamped out her cigarette. She glanced around, then unfastened the pants and pushed them down around her ankles.

Steve waited until she had squatted down and her mind was on other things before he crept up behind her. Casting his eyes around for a likely looking object, he found just the right thing-a broken twig, still leafy enough to produce the desire result.

Chuckling to himself, he inched it silently through the undergrowth and slid it between her wide-open legs.

Her shriek was blood-curdling enough to satisfy even his jaded sense of humor. The whistle was useless now-nobody could have missed that piercing signal-so he tossed it to the ground.

"Oh, my God! I thought that was a snake." Maggie exploded. "What a dirty trick!"

Steve's laughter was that of a gleeful practical joker, who has just pulled a gag on his favorite victim. But his laughter was short-lived, for Maggie turned the situation comedy into a blatant display of her sexual charms.

Sprawled on her bare butt on the even barer ground, with her capris rolled down to her ankles, she sent waves of desire through him. "Lord, Maggie, but you're all woman," he breathed.

She started to rise and free herself from her predicament, but he held her wrists. "Uh-uh. Don't move a muscle. I like to see you just like that ... open for customers."

His fingers were fumbling at his belt buckle now, and Maggie's eyes were riveted to his hands, waiting expectantly for him to show his tool. When he did, her legs moved apart instinctively, and her smile told him that she was impressed by what she saw.

"Come and get it," she challenged, rubbing her velvety slit insinuatingly.

"Damned tootin', I will," he boasted, advancing toward her. "I just hope your performance is as good as the advertising."

She fell back as he approached, raising her knees high in the air until he was hidden from her view. She waited tensely for his thrust, closing her eyes to heighten the suspense. The smell of pine trees and wild flowers mingled pleasantly with the male scent of Steve, telling her that the moment was close at hand.

She felt him prying her legs apart, until the material still bunched around her ankles was taut. His entry was sudden and complete, and she .runted from the abruptness of it. But she soon adjusted to the weight of his body and made the stranger inside of her snug and welcome.

Steve had no desire to ask for a refund...

While all this torrid lovemaking was taking place, Jerry and Bev had stumbled upon one another.

It was getting rather late in the day, and Bev had grown tired of waiting for her would-be hunter. Besides that, it was growing chilly in the shade, so she decided to start off in the general direction of the house. At least, the walk would keep her circulation going, and stave off the mosquitoes that were threatening to make an unwilling blood donor out of her.

She had heard the signals by now, and had guessed-that she was the last fox to be found. The official score stood at three down, and one to go. The woods held no mystery for her; she was angry, rather than frightened, as she picked her way along the path.

It was Jerry's misfortune that he happened to cross her path at that precise moment. Her sense of injury had grown out of all proportion, and she was not to be trifled with. His belated appearance only added fuel to her anger, and some perverse demon got ahold of her.

She decided to make him pay for her favors by exposing his weakness-and to let him know that the whole group was aware of it.

"Well, if it isn't Little Red Riding Hood," he said, by way of greeting.

"Listen, my grandmother could have died of old age by the time you showed up." she replied.

Her sarcastic tone drew a quizzical look from Jerry. "What's the matter, Bev? Did you get piles from sitting on the cold ground too long?"

She shrugged and said curtly, "Oh, let's just get on with it, so we can join the rest. We are the last ones, you know."

If Jerry was in any doubt regarding her mood, the emphatic statement made it only too plain. He couldn't understand her attitude at all; she was usually clam and unruffled. Some form of self-preservation made him shy away from the situation.

"Maybe we should just skip the whole thing, Bev. You don't seem to be in a very receptive mood.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong. Why, I can hardly wait! See?" She demonstrated by tearing off her clothes and urging him to do the same. He was literally swept off his feet when she fell back suddenly, pulling him with her.

Jerry's heart sank. He knew himself incapable of performing in this position. Even with an unlimited amount of teasing and coaxing, he couldn't bring it off very often. And with no preliminary play at all, the situation was hopeless. He could feel his face flaming as he tried to insert his limp prick into Bev again and again. Each time spelled failure.

"What's the matter, Jerry? Can't get it up?"

"It's these frigging mosquitoes!" he blustered. "Every time I get started, one of them bites me on the ass, and the feeling goes away." He took refuge behind the swear words in a desperate attempt to hide his true condition.

Bev took pity on him. The perverse demon departed from her soul, and her natural disposition took over. She had to find a wav to make it up to him, a way in which he could save face.

The solution came to her when he again attempted to give up. "I'll bet I know what the trouble is," she said. "Here. Let's get up and take a break."

Jerry had no wish to hear her out; he was deathly afraid that his secret was out in the open. To cover his confusion, he fussed with his clothing, dusting it off with great care. He let Bev lead him by the hand, and offered no objections when she stopped short and opened his fly.

"That's all you reed, baby," she said, kindly. "Now, you go ahead and take a leak. You'll feel lots better."

Standing beneath her direct gaze, Jerry was embarrassed and unable to comply. But she encouraged him by whispering the same words again and running her fingers along the length of his flaccid penis, coaxing him into action. As he sprayed the weeds under her direction, her words of praise brought an amazing result.

"There, now. What did I tell you? Look for yourself!"

Jerry glanced down, vastly relieved at his arousal. Now, if he could hurry up and service her before she killed it ...

Bev wasn't taking any chances this time. She needed him even more than he needed her, and she was perfectly willing to acquiesce in the matter of position to keep him hard. He was on fire now, and her fingers burned at the touch of him.

Remembering how much he liked her breasts, she tore off her shirt and rubbed them against his chest. The gentle sway and bounce of their lushness inspired him even more, but he was reluctant to force her into taking the top position-and even more reluctant to face the possibility of failure if he didn't.

Bev solved dilemma by pushing him down and sprawling on top of him. For a while, she supported herself on her knees, keeping his cock imprisoned between her legs and relishing the feel of it. Then she guided it into her hole, and they began a vigorous program of exercise, beginning with pushups and ending with a vicious grinding of hip against hip.

When it was over, she collapsed against him, spent and totally exhausted. For some reason, a ridiculous phrase came into her mind, and she addressed it to his mother, wherever she was. Well, mom ... it was a tough fight, but I won.

Jerry wasn't thinking of her, though. He was completely relaxed and drained of any emotion. It was a pleasant sensation to lie there, still embedded in the lovely Bev's box. He hoped she would remain there until his penis lost its staying power.

For a moment, he shuddered, thinking of his close call. But his male vanity pushed the thought away, and he had soon convinced himself that his secret was still intact.