Chapter 3

Paul ached. The tight jock strap and tank suit he was wearing crimped his incipient hard-on into a knot of pain. He had the feeling be had had the hard-on ever since he had watched Connie's bus pull out that morning. Every time he thought of her, it got worse. But he couldn't think of anything but her naked body writhing under him. At the rate he was going, he was going to be walking bowlegged by the time he was done for the day. Pursing his lips, he pushed the broom grimly, sweeping the drift of gum wrappers, grass, cigarette butts and sand ahead of himself. A vision of Connie flashed through his mind-Connie naked, the morning sun spilling over the soft, sweet curves of her ripe young body, gleaming in the cum-matted red bush between her sleek thighs, highlighting her firm, thrusting tits. His cock gave a painful twinge as it struggled to stand up.

"Shit!" he groaned as the broom banged sharply against the wall. He was sweeping the corridor of the private locker section. The hot sun stung his still untanned back and shoulders.

"Who's there?" a woman s voice called from behind the wall he had banged with the broom.

He muttered under his breath. He had thought he was alone. Now he'd probably catch hell for cursing. "Paul Sand," he answered. "Oh-oh, thank goodness," the woman sighed with relief.

"Sorry I frightened you," Paul apologized.

"Oh, no, it's not that," the woman assured him. "I seem to be in a bit of difficulty, is all."

"Oh?" Paul leaned on the broom. He was still talking to the wall, or, more accurately, the door of a dressing stall.

"Hey Paul; ..It's me; .. Mrs. Shuster."

"Oh; Mrs. Shuster." She was a tall, dramatically built blonde with tons of money, two dark-haired children and an invisible husband. "What seems to be the problem?"

"It's rather embarrassing," Mrs. Shuster stammered. "Is there anyone else out there?"

Paul looked around. "No."

"Oh, good," she sighed. "You can keep your mouth closed, can't you?"

"Of course. What's wrong?"

"It's really-very awkward for me," Mrs. Shuster repeated. "You'll have to give me your solemn promise not to ever say anything." "I promise," Paul answered solemnly, wondering what the hell was wrong. Mrs. Blasts opened the door very slowly. She was holding the top of a two-piece suit against her with one hand. "You're sure?" "Yes, I promise," Paul assured her, his eyes darting from her face to her well-built body and then quickly back to her face. The suit that she was wearing was incredibly tight.

"Well, don't just stand there, come in. Quickly," she urged, stepping aside. "You'd better bring your broom in, so no one will suspect where you are."

"Okay," Paul agreed. "What seems to be the trouble?" She closed the door, and latched the inside hook so it couldn't be opened from the outside. "It's this suit," she explained, cautiously easing her grip on the top. It thrust outward, and settled lower, exposing a vast portion of her large tits and the deep cleavage between them. The pale mark of her usual suit was a definite line. A pink arc of one areola peeped past the edge of one cup. "It's really my daughter's," Mrs. Shuster elaborated, biting her full lower lip.

"Oh." Paul had trouble keeping his eyes off her provocative display. "I-I was just sort of playing a game-trying to see if I could still fit in this size," Mrs. Shuster stammered. "And I got myself into it somehow, but now I can't seem to get out of it."

Paul was sweating. "Oh?"

"Yes," Mrs. Shuster continued, turning her back and looking over her shoulder at him. "See, I think the-the tension on the hooks in the back is too much. I can't get them unhooked. I can't reach them very well." Paul studied the situation. The strap cut deeply into the woman's back, evidence of the tension on the fastening.

"You can reach better. You should be able to get it," She told him. "I-I'll try," he agreed. Nora Shuster was one of the most noticeable women around the club. Five-foot-six, she had a bust and hips that created a stir wherever she went. Now, in the cramped cubicle, Paul was so close to her that he could smell her. The cubicle was about four feet from the door to the back, about a foot wider the other way. There was a bench along the back. He could see over her shoulder into the mirror on one wall. The suit top seemed to hang precariously from the slopes of her full tits.

He hesitated, trying to figure out how to unhook the suit without touching her tanned, freckled skin.

Her eyes met his in the mirror. They looked dark and mysterious. "Don't just stand there," she urged. "I can't breathe in this damn thing." "Sorry." His hands shook as he gripped the back of the suit. He tugged, cautiously trying to free the hooks without touching her. The strained fabric resisted his sweating fingers. Pursing his lips and frowning with concentration, trying to blind himself to the view in the mirror, he grabbed the cloth more firmly and tugged.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry"' Paul squeaked, letting go quickly. The bra was still fastened. "You pinched me," she complained, rubbing on it, exposing a larger sliver of one nipple.

"I'm so sorry," Paul groaned apologetically.

"It's not your fault, Paul," she assured him. "I'm very sensitive in that area."

"Maybe we could cut it off," Paul suggested.

"No, I can't do that," she countered quickly. "It's Tara's favorite suit.

It's brand-new and it cost a fortune!"

"Oh." Paul's hands were shaking. His cock hurt more than ever from the apparently accidental display of nipple.

"Maybe if I sort of-squash myself," she said self-consciously, "That will give you some slack to work with." She cupped her tits with both hands. "Ready?"

Paul nodded. His forehead was beaded with sweat. He tore his eyes off the heavy, cupped globes of her tits and once again gripped the suit with both hands.

"Okay-go." He saw her tits squash down under her hands, bulge out around the edges of the cups. His cock threatened to burst out of his suit. "Hurry up," she gasped, yanking his attention back to his task. Desperately, he pulled on the strap. Two of the hooks came free. He twisted the strained fabric, conscious of the mashed condition of the woman's huge tits, and managed at last to undo the last hook. The strap whipped out of his fingers and dangled, leaving her back bare clear to the bottom of the suit. There was something incredibly arousing about her naked back. The absence of one strap should not have made any difference, but it did.

"Oh, whew!" she gasped. "Whoops!" She almost let the bra fall away. She caught it and jerked it back on. Paul got a startling glimpse of huge tits, and dark nipples.

"I'll be going n-now," he stammered, reaching for his broom.

"Oh no!" she squealed. "Uh, I mean, that's only part of the problem." Paul's heart hammered. He had an urge to double over because his cock hurt so much. "Huh?"

She let one hand hold the bra precariously and brushed a strand of hair back from her face. She still had her back to him. Their eyes met in the mirror. The bra dangled loosely, exposing the bulging flank of one creamy tit. "You see, I can't get the bottom loose, either," she explained. "It zips and hooks in the back. And I have the same problem back there, with the hook."

"Please, Paul," she pleaded. "I'd die if anyone found out about this-especially Tara. All you have to do is unhook the hook and unzip the zipper. Please?"

"Well, okay," he mumbled, flaming red. He bent over awkwardly, and tried to see where the suit fastened.

"Why don't you sit down?" she suggested.

Paul sat down on the bench with a soft sigh of relief. His legs were aching with strain. He tried to pinch the back of the suit to unhook it, but it didn't work. Taking a deep breath, he slipped his fingers in between the suit and her soft, warm flesh. A quick tug got the slack he needed, and he managed to get the hook undone. The zipper spread open a fraction of an inch, exposing the dark cleavage of her ass while he started to get up.

"The zipper, too, please?"

Paul was soaked with sweat now. He eased the zipper down. The back of the suit spread open wider and wider, lower and lower. More and more of the crack of the woman's full ass was exposed. The pale curves of her lush asscheeks came into view. He could still see her reflection in the mirror. The suit was slipping lower on her belly, exposing what seemed like acres of creamy flesh below her navel. The pale skin was pink and dented where the tight elastic had cut into her.

He got the zipper to the bottom, well down over the roundness of her ass, and released it. Without warning, the suit fell down, exposing the globes of her asscheeks, the dark crack, and in front; a mass of soft blonde curls.

"Whoops!" She made a grab for the suit bottom, forgetting the top. The bra fell away and dropped to the floor, exposing her full fits to his shocked, hungry gaze. At the same time, the suit bottom escaped her grasp and went halfway down her thighs before she managed to clamp her legs together and stop it from completely falling to the floor. She was totally exposed. Her monumental tits were heaving, her nipples hard and erect and excited. The puckered tips looked hungry and anxious. Her torso tapered to a small waist, then her body flared out to full, rounded hips. The triangle of cuntal hair was thick, yellow and mysterious-looking.

There was a long, hot, strained silence in the small cubicle. Paul's cock tried to escape through the jock strap and suit. Failing that, it managed to squirm from its folded-down position and slide up so it lay flat against his hard belly. It made a huge ridge in his suit. The head of his cock was a fraction of an inch below the top.

Then Nora Shuster turned, clasped her arms around Paul's head, and dragged his face into the soft, warm, perfumed valley between her tits. Instinctively, his lips sought her thrusting nipples, closing on one hard nubbin. He sucked on her hot flesh, his body aching with pent-up need. When she groaned, the sound of her voice drummed through his body, stirred him to the very depths.

She tore free of his sucking lips, and fell to her knees in front of him. Her lips touched his in a hot, sucking, carnal kiss. Then she pulled back and glanced down at the blatant ridge of his cock. Without a word, she untied the string of his suit, tugged on the waist to loosen it, then hauled suit and jock strap down, and revealed his hard-on. He lifted his ass and she dragged his suit off, completely exposing him. She never took her eyes off his throbbing cock.

Her fingers gripped the pale, rigid staff, lifted it upright. A liquid jewel slid down over the purple cockhead. Leaning forward, she took his prick into her soft, wet, warm mouth. He felt his cock drooling onto her hot tongue.

Squeezing his prick with her fingers, she milked his man cream into her mouth. She pushed her head down to get more and more of his cock into her hot orifice.

"Oh, God!" Paul moaned. His fingers gently touched her pale-blonde hair. He had the urge to shove her face down on his cock. He pushed gently on her head, and she obliged by taking still more of his seething prick into her mouth. He felt his gland pressing against her soft palate, far to the back of her mouth. He felt the back of her tongue rising in a swallowing reflex, pinching the head of his prick against the roof of her mouth. Her hot breath puffed on his pubic patch, stirring his fine dark hairs. Her blonde curls tickled his sensitive thighs erotically. His whole body was aquiver and he could think of nothing but the hot mouth that was engulfing his searing cock. He could feel the cum gathering in his balls, and wanted to pump it straight into her eager, sucking mouth. He guided her head up and down, up and down. He felt her tongue scrub the top of his cock, felt her hair brushing his thighs, felt her fingers fondling his balls, and felt her hot breath on his belly. When he looked down, he could see her doing it. He could see her head bobbing over his lap. In the mirror, he could see his cock stuffing her encircling lips and see her face twisted with lust as she blew him. He could see his prick, gleaming with her spit, slide into view and then vanish again into her mouth.

The ocean of cum in his balls swelled and began to pulse like lava in the seething heart of a volcano. He watched her suck and suck his prick. Her cheeks caved in as she tried to draw more blood into his already engorged cock. She was sucking trickles of juices up the length of his prick while milking them into her mouth with her tongue.

He could see her quivering tits with their alert, dark nipples that were like long, hard cylinders. They thrust out eagerly from her tits. His hands itched to lift and press and massage her heavy boobs and feel her nipples bear hungrily into his palms. Reaching out, he leaned forward and cupped his hands around her full, womanly globes. His belly pressed her bobbing head. Her hair brushed his skin warmly. Her fingers held his balls like a jock strap, and the heat seemed to melt something inside him, and bring him still closer to his spurting orgasm. She squeezed his nuts gently, pumped her head down harder on his cock. Her fingertips touched the hard ridge behind his balls, scratched it gently, and he knew he was going to cum. He felt his whole body explode with the searing fire of his orgasm. He expected her to pull up off his cock, but she didn't. He couldn't do anything but curl down over her head. His hips jammed up, slamming his cock clear to the back of her throat. Searing cum blasted down the core of his cock as his whole body convulsed. Shots of thick, steaming jism slammed into her working, sucking, swallowing throat. The pressing, massaging, squeezing action of her swallowing kept him cumming and cumming and cumming. Her cheeks, her tongue, everything massaged and milked his spurting cock, encouraged it to greater and greater efforts, until it was totally drained, heaving emptily in her still-working mouth.

She kept sucking on him until his prick could take no more and the floodgates opened; let the trapped blood flow back into his body. His prick was numbed by its efforts, and shrank quickly as she cleaned it carefully with her tongue. Then she released it, and it drooped down over his drained balls.

"Now," she whispered harshly, "now, it's my turn." Paul watched dazedly as she scrambled to her feet. She lurched forward, thrusting her creamy belly at him. Her thick cuntal bush seemed to be squirming.

"Now you," she hissed. "Eat me!"

Paul straightened up, pulling back from her offering in surprise and disgust. She blocked his escape with her knees, and ended up straddling him.

"Fair is fair. Eat me!"

Paul clamped his lips tightly shut in refusal. His head banged the back wall when he leaned away from her thrusting body. She towered over him. Her tits were shaking and jiggling erotically. "Eat me," she ordered. "Or, by God, I'll scream rape so loud they'll hear me in Altoona!"

"Please," Paul begged, terrified she really might.

"Paul, trust me," she soothed, relenting. "You'll like it."

"But, I don't know how," he said desperately, seeking an escape. "Don't worry, I'll teach you," she answered. "Just press your mouth into my crotch, and lick me."

Paul eyed her amply bushed cunt warily. He could see her bulging cunt lips through the blonde curls, the top of her slit, and down low was a flash of pink.

"I'll make it easy for you," she said, stepping up on the bench. Her feet were on either side of him. She towered over him, an incredible goddess, all naked flesh and yellow curls, thrusting cunt and jutting tits. Looking down at him between her boobs, she gently stroked his head with her hands, brushed his hair back from his face.

Her smell wafted around him. It wasn't unpleasant-exciting really, he decided. His vision blurred as her yellow muff drew close. The wiry curls tickled his nose and then scratched him, and then warm, soft, humid flesh pressed his lips and nose. He combed her kinky hair aside with his fingers, and slipped his tongue between her warm, throbbing cunt lips, and tasted her hot, slippery inner flesh.

He was surprised to find her flavor was also arousing and exciting. He lapped upward, scooping her cuntal secretions into his mouth, feeling the slippery inner folds squirm away from his tongue. He worked it from side to side to spread her cunt lips, to get better access to the hot, wet, flavorful inner membranes of her pussy.

"My vagina," she groaned. "Find my vagina, and push your tongue deep, deep inside me. Push your tongue into my hot hole!" Her fingers were tangled in his hair now. She was gripping him tightly but not painfully. Obediently, Paul searched around with his tongue, and felt it funnel into her seething honey-hole. He pressed the rippled walls of her cunt aside with the tip of his tongue and tried to touch the bottom of her deep opening. His nose was mashed against her pubic arch, and his head was tipped back at a painful angle. He tried to drill his tongue clear to the end of her opening.

"Twist it around in there," she moaned. "Ohhh, wiggle it! Wiggle your tongue in me!"

Paul curled, twisted and wiggled his tongue in her cunt. His mouth was flooded with her juices and his own saliva. Finally, he had to swallow or drown. Then he rammed his tongue back into her hole and slurped up still another wave of her thick, pungent oozings. His own guts were knotting with lust from the act, and he was slowly becoming aroused. He glanced at the mirror.

The bottom half of his face was engulfed in the thick yellow fur of her pussy. He closed his eyes and attacked her with his tongue, pumping it in and out of her throbbing cunt until he was flooded with spit and cuntal juices and had to swallow again.

"Ahh, God, that's good," she moaned. "God, that's good!" Paul burrowed his face deeper into her dripping crotch. Her hair scrubbed his cheeks as he ravished her cunt with his tongue. He was stimulated by her vocal pleasure. His excitement was rising in a hot wave. "My clit," she moaned. "Find my clit. You know where that is? Do they teach that in sex education today?"

Paul sought her clitoris with the blind single-mindedness of a mole, burrowing his way up along her steaming pussy folds. His tongue swept up, carelessly ripping over her piss-hole. Slippery folds of flesh wriggled past the tip of his tongue, and then a tiny shaft of flesh squirmed away from him. He trapped his prey between his lips. "Jesus" Mrs. Shuster yelped, her fingers knotting painfully in his hair.

"Jesus! That's it! Suck it, suck it, suck it!" Paul sucked it. He drew the fleshy appendage into his mouth, pulled it away from her heaving body. He could feel the unyielding arch of her pubis behind it. He tried to suck the nerve knot right out of her body. He swallowed the waves of saliva filling his mouth, and then scraped his tongue across the nerve-packed tip of her clit. "Awwwww!" she moaned ecstatically.

Paul battered her clit with his tongue while holding it immobile with his lips. Her hips thrashed, threatening to buck him off. He sucked on her clit until finally he could grip it with his teeth. He pressed it delicately against the back of his teeth, trying to milk it. There was nothing in it of course, but his chin was suddenly drowned in wave after wave of thick, musky cum.

She sat on his face, her weight ramming him down, jamming his head against the shelf along the wall over the seat. Something clattered to the floor. He opened his eyes to discover she was pressing her tits against the harsh, hard wall. Her big globes were squashing flat against the unyielding wood. He was suffocating in her steaming flesh. He worked his mouth, lips and tongue until the woman was thrashing convulsively in the grip of an orgasm.

His head was being crushed, and he was suffocating. His head swam from her thick, rich aroma. Her copious cuntal juices dribbled down his cheeks and throat.

He began to black out from lack of air and desperately shoved at her, heaving her away from his face so he could suck in a deep breath of air. She pulled his face up into her dripping cunt for one last searing moment and then let him go. Her knees folded and she slid slowly down on top of him. Her warm body slid against his, her tits scrubbed his chest as she settled down on him.

He just panted while she nibbled and licked his face, cleaning her slimy juices off his cheeks. Paul ached. His head hurt from being squashed. His lips were swollen and sore from their efforts. His back ached from the strained position he had been in. The hard edge of the bench cut into his ass. He struggled up, and managed to get all of his bare ass on the hard board. His cock nuzzled against Mrs. Shuster's ass. "What's that I feel back there?" she asked. Reaching back, she squeezed his stiff prick delicately with her warm hand. "Eager little fellow, isn't he?" she observed. "Well, not so little, really. Rather impressive, I'd say."

Paul felt a surge of pride at this observation.

"And I've got just the place for him, too," she said huskily. Paul just sat there, slumped on the bench. She lifted off of him and eased down a bit. He didn't even move his head or open his eyes as she lifted his erect cock and settled it into her warm, wet pussy. She eased down on him, and his meat was embraced by hot, eager flesh. The touch of her cuntal walls brought a new wave of blood into his cock, making it swell in her.

"Now, didn't I tell you that you'd like it?" she asked, now fully seated on him.

Paul nodded.

She squirmed, making his cock stir inside her. "Seems to have gotten you all interested again."

"It has," he admitted. His voice sounded rusty. "What do you think of me?" she asked abruptly. "Oh, not this." She wiggled meaningfully, drawing his attention to his cock and her hot cunt. "I mean, my looks?"

"You're very pretty," he said honestly.

"A little old and soft, I'll bet," she went on, baiting him.

"No, not at all," he argued. "You're beautiful."

"Easy to say, when you're in this position," she teased. She lifted and dropped, and he felt the rippled walls of her cunt slide along his cock. "I'll bet you've plowed a furrow through half the school," she mused. "God knows, any girl would give her left tit to have a chance at you."

"Aw, no," he snorted. "Not me."

"No, you're a good boy," she observed, looking at him, noticing his blush. "But you're not a virgin, either. You didn't lose it very long ago, though, I'll bet!"

Paul was uncomfortable under the blunt appraisal, and was beginning to lose his hard-on.

"Tsk, tsk; come back here," Mrs. Shuster chided, bringing his prick back to burning hardness with a skillful twist of her hips. Satisfied that he was hard again, she settled down. "Such a pity, wasting all those years in celibacy," she mused. "Now, take my Tara for example. I'll bet she's still a virgin at fourteen. I wish she wasn't, but I can't tell her that or she'd be scandalized." She looked at Paul curiously. "Is she a virgin?"

Paul shrugged. He had no idea. Tara, a pretty black-haired girl with a rapidly developing figure, was better than two years younger than he was. He had thought of her as nothing more than a kid as long as he'd known her. "Greatest regret of my life is I was a virgin when I married," the woman mused. "God, the chances I passed up when I was young!" Paul wondered if this was for his benefit, or what, but held his tongue. By concentrating on the feel of his prick, wrapped tightly in her slick, hot cunt, he made his lust boil higher.

"So, to get laid I married young," the woman went on. "I got married just so I could get laid." She sighed. "Now I've got two kids to dodge if I want to have fun, a sterling reputation to protect, and a husband who's banging his way around the country nine months out of the year. He's so exhausted by the time he gets home he doesn't even notice I have a body." "You have a very nice body," Paul observed, feeling he should say something.

She looked at him maternally. "Thank you, Paul. Do you like my breasts?"

Paul looked at her huge, full tits, and nodded. "Then why don't you touch them? God knows, we've done everything else and are doing everything else. Please touch them, Paul, they need the attention."

Paul curled his hands under the thrusting mounds, and lifted, marveling at their warm weight. He brushed his thumbs over the jutting nipples, watched how they bounced and trembled.

Nora Shuster began to move, began lifting and dropping. The walls of her cunt seemed to fuck his prick in. He could see the pale, shining column of his cock slide into view. She lowered, and his cock vanished as her hot cunt engulfed it.

He squeezed her tits, hard, and heard her suck in her breath. He twisted the globes almost cruelly, and she moaned.

"Oh, yea," she groaned. "Hurt me!"

He couldn't do that-not quite. But he could torture her tits with his fingers, pinch them as hard as he dared, twist the hard, rubbery nubbins, tug on them to make her areolas draw out into long cones. He was aware of her head rolling as she moved her body up and down, up and down on his blazing cock.

He watched her reach down into her own crotch. There was a flash of pink as she parted her cunt lips. She began fondling her prominent clitoris while still fucking herself up and down on his throbbing cock. She was grunting and whimpering softly now as she fucked herself on him. Her fingers danced in her bright-yellow cunt as she tortured her cit. His cock was surrounded by creamy froth as she bounced. "Hurt me," she moaned. "Hurt my breasts. Pinch my tits, pinch them!" Paul pinched them as hard as he dared, then harder, and the low groan this brought from her made the hair on the back of his neck rise. This wealthy, aristocratic woman was pure animal!

All she wanted was his cock in her cunt, his hands tormenting her tits-base carnal stimulation. The realization made his lust rise higher, made his cock grow inside her, until it was jamming blindly against the end of her cunt.

She was grunting now with every downward jolt on him. Her face was beaded with sweat, and trickles of perspiration formed gleaming rivulets down the valley between her big tits. His hands slipped on her sweaty skin as he mangled her boobs, his fingers digging into the yielding flesh. Her hips began a forward and backward motion. His cock was tugged and levered inside her as she jounced around on him. The small locker was saturated with the smell of sex and sweat as she pounded and pounded up and down on him. She moved her hips in a circle. His cock flailed around inside her like a brutal paddle. It hurt, but the cum pooling in his balls was more than enough compensation.

"Are you cumming?" she asked, panting. "Are you cumming?"

"Yeah."

"Cum in me," she groaned, her moves becoming wilder and harder and more demanding that ever. "Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me!" "I will," he assured her, not really sure he could, because of her incredible activity. He was losing his carnal high his cock was being battered so. Desperately, he released her tits and grabbed her waist, sinking his hard fingers into her flesh to gain control of her. He lifted her and slammed her down on him, controlling the violence of her rocking and twisting. He heaved her up and down, up and down. His cock was burning from the friction with her slippery pussy.

"I'm cumming," she moaned. "I'm cumming right now!" Paul closed his eyes and concentrated, the walls of her cunt hissing past his cockhead. A vision of Connie, young, and soft, and rounded, and nude, came to him. He grasped at it as his balls convulsed and he spouted his jism into Nora Shuster. His hips slammed upward as he jammed her down on him. He unloaded his cum into her cunt in thick steaming spurts. He felt the walls of her cunt spasm around his erupting cock, and his pleasure grew even greater. He held the vision of Connie in his mind, and squirted deeply into Nora Shuster.

He strained upward, supporting the full weight of the woman on him. His jism was forced out of her as his cock was jammed tight against the end of her cunt. He felt the thick fluid ooze out around his convulsing prick. It made it pump even more.

She was gurgling mindlessly deep in her throat. Her entire body knotted with her orgasm as she took his load. Her cunt milked his spurting cock. Then, as he slumped with exhaustion, and his orgasm faded to an agonizing ache, she relaxed too, leaned forward against him. Her breasts were soft pillows against his chest.

After they had both caught their breaths, she climbed off him. Pearly cum gleamed in her snatch, and a big drop was running down one of her thighs. He shook his head and reached numbly for his bathing suit and jock strap. He hauled it up, tucked his exhausted prick into the cup and tied the string of his suit.

The woman leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. Her magnificent tits were rising and falling dramatically. Then she wrapped her sweaty body in a towel.

"I'd invite you to join me in the shower, but people might talk."

"That's okay. I've got to get back to work."

"Don't talk about this, Paul," she cautioned.

"I won't," he assured her.

"If I thought you would, I wouldn't have done it," she went on. "But, if you say one word, to anyone, and it gets back to me, I'll destroy you." "I said I wouldn't talk," Paul growled angrily. She touched his cheek tenderly. "I'm sorry. I trust you. You were very, very good, by the way; the best."

"Oh, thanks."

"Whoever she is, she's a lucky girl."

"Who do you mean?" Paul asked her.

"Whoever it was you were thinking about when you came inside of me."

She left him standing in the corridor, puzzling over how she had known. Wrestling with his guilt, he went back to his sweeping. Connie hadn't been gone a day, and he'd broken his vow to her.

"Damn!" he muttered softly, ashamed of his weakness. He was willing to bet she wouldn't be unfaithful to him, not once. He felt like shit.