Chapter 1
Teresa Cherry could hear the sound of the water running in the bedroom, and she knew that it wouldn't be long before her husband, Buzz, was through with his shower and ready for his drink before dinner. She walked quickly through the house to the bar and started making a vodka tonic. Buzz liked a vodka tonic first, and then afterward a martini; in her few short years married to Buzz, she had grown to enjoy the cocktails in that order, too.
Teresa took the two ice-filled glasses and the cocktail mixer and went over to the couch. She set them on the coffee table and then sat back against the cushions with a tired sigh. It was going to be so good to get away on vacation, she thought to herself as she looked out across Lake Leman. It was beautiful here at home and Geneva was a wonderful city to live in, but it was her home, had been now for three years, and regardless of how beautiful home was-it was always nice to get away. Three whole weeks in the Swiss Alps! She could hardly wait!
Teresa's mind rambled on for a few minutes while she thought about what a great vacation she and Buzz were going to have. They were so lucky to even have the chance to go on vacation in the Alps, or to live in Geneva for that matter.
She remembered how excited she had been when she had first found out that Buzz, who was in the diplomatic corps, had been transferred to Europe. She had never been to Europe before, and she had been frightened a bit at the prospect of living in a foreign country, but she had soon gotten over that and the excitement had taken over.
Her first view of Geneva had been as lovely as she had expected, and finding a house on the lake front near town had been a wonderful stroke of luck. That had been three years ago now, and she had really loved living in Switzerland and playing the part of a diplomat's wife.
Teresa poured herself a drink and sat back against the couch dreaming again of their coming vacation. Buzz had been obsessed with climbing the Matterhorn ever since they had first moved to Switzerland and spent their first Christmas in the small, quaint village called Zermatt nestled in the valley at the foot of that imposing mountain. He'd had a love affair going with the Matterhorn ever since, and he swore that he would climb it before he left Europe. It was as though he were obsessed with that mountain, as though it were a woman he had not yet conquered, and he could not rest until he had. That was why he had decided on taking his vacation this summer. He was finally going to do it. Two weeks of training with an Alpine guide and then he would be ready for the grueling, yet not seriously dangerous if you were adequately prepared, nine-hour climb up the Matterhorn. Four hours up and five down. She would have gone with him herself, if coming down had not been so terrifying, for you had to face the valley with your back to the mountain for five hours! She shuddered at the thought, and took another sip from her drink. She just wished Buzz were as afraid of heights as she was but he wasn't, so she would just have to accept the fact that he was going to climb that damn mountain and hope that he would come back to her safely.
Buzz came into the room at that point pushing her morbid thoughts from her mind as she looked at his handsome, vibrantly alive face and well-built body. She wished again that she would be leaving with him tomorrow, instead of having to wait for two more days. It was her fault that she had to stay behind, though; she was the one who had forgotten about the English-American Tea, a very important social gathering for anyone who was anybody. It was almost as important for her husband's career as any social event of the year, because the Tea was the testing ground for the diplomats' wives who were judged and forgotten or remembered according to their behavior at the Tea. The opinion was then transferred to the husbands. Many times a career was broken due to improper behavior of some diplomat's wife or, as in her case, the husband's career was helped, but if she missed even one of those Teas, which were given twice a year, she would be severely criticized. She had to go for the sake of their standing in the small foreign community while her husband went off to the Alps to learn how to climb the Matterhorn. Damn!
He kissed her gently on the forehead, cupping her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to him. "Had a good day?" he asked.
She wrinkled her pert, perfect little nose. "Busy," she said, handing him his drink.
Buzz gave her a worried look. "I know, Teresa," he said. "And I don't like it. This is supposed to be your vacation."
Teresa let out a lilting, musical laugh. "Darling," she said, "we don't start our vacation for another few days and I do have to do some packing for us. Remember?"
"I guess so," Buzz said. "But I hate to see you rushing around like this. By the time we get there you'll be too tired for a vacation."
I'm not rushing around. Really." Teresa said. "How about some dinner? I thought we would eat outside."
"Great, Teresa. The lake is gorgeous tonight."
"It really is. In fact I don't know when I've ever seen it look so nice." She leaned back against him and they stood there a moment in silence, listening to the sound of the waves lapping gently on the shore and watching the sun as it set behind the mountains surrounding the lake and the gulls flew airly above them in the sky. Finally, with a sigh, Teresa broke away from her still husband and headed toward the kitchen shouting over her shoulder as she disappeared inside. "You go on out to the table, I'll bring the dinner out."
She moved around the kitchen quickly, getting the food together that she had prepared earlier in the day. Taking the casserole from the oven, tossing the salad, and placing them all on a tray to carry out Jo the terrace. She set the food down on the table, handing Buzz his hors d'oeurves plate, asparagus tips with hollandaise sauce, and placing the casserole dish on a hot pad in front of them.
As she moved around the table, Buzz watched her. She was so beautiful, he thought, still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She hadn't changed one bit in the three years that they had been married. She had the kind of figure that made men turn and stare, the long, slim legs, the huge, whitely billowing tits, the marvelous ass that swayed sensuously when she walked. Her hair was as gold and glistening as it had been then, her eyes as blue. And her skin glowed like the proverbial peaches and cream. There was no doubt about it; Teresa was a strikingly beautiful woman.
And Buzz, Teresa thought, casting a sidewise glance at him, Buzz was certainly a handsome man. He was tall and well built, with dark curling hair that fell in a sexy little curl over his forehead. His head was fine, even noble, and Teresa found herself admiring, for perhaps the thousandth time, the strong, firm line of his chin, which was softened by the twinkle in his dark eyes. Yes, Buzz was a handsome man.
And yet, as so often happened, Teresa felt she had nothing to say to him. Tonight, again, the two finished their meal in silence, cleared away the dishes in equal silence. And when it grew dark around the lake, they went inside and her husband switched on the radio.
Without a word, they listened to the B.B.C. English radio network, one of the only English-speaking broadcasts available to the Americans living in Europe. It was a comedy show tonight, and Buzz laughed along with the studio audience, but Teresa's mind was miles away. There was something wrong with her life, she thought, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. She had a beautiful home on the shore of one of the most beautiful lakes in the world and most of all, a wonderful, loving husband. But there was something missing, and she didn't know what it was.
Still pondering the matter, she stifled a yawn and stood up. "I think I'll go to bed, darling," she said. She bent down to kiss his forehead. "Coming along?"
"I think I'll wait till the program's over," Buzz said. He kept his eyes closed, his head back against the cushion as Teresa crossed the room, avoiding the sight of the two rounded orbs of her smoothly curved ass-cheeks, her marvelous trim thighs, her hugely billowing tits. But even the thought of them made his prick jerk, begin to swell and stiffen. Oh, God! he thought. He wanted her so much! He'd always wanted her, and no one else. And he knew that Teresa had never wanted another man. But then, did she want any man, including himself? he wondered.
Oh, they fucked often enough. He had her in the sack practically whenever he wanted; they screwed, God knows. Buzz's mounting lust, the ache in his loins, the dull, relentless throbbing of his now painfully jerking prick made him crude and vulgar-they fucked, God damn it, they fucked.
Buzz shook his head. No, that wasn't quite right, he thought. He fucked Teresa. And she put on a good show for him, squirming and bucking and thrashing beneath him, letting out little mewls and murmurs of pleasure as she lay back, legs splayed open obscenely, to expose the full, flat plane of her thrusting crotch, acting for all the world as if she enjoyed it.
But God damn it, she was acting. Always acting.
Buzz sighed, and poured himself a Scotch, stiff and straight. Then he switched off the radio and sat in the dark, sipping the drink.
It had always been like this, he thought. Not that he blamed Teresa for it. He knew the hell her life had been in her teens, when that bastard uncle raped her one time, when he had caught her alone in her house. He knew his wife was-what was that word psychiatrists used? "projecting?"-that Teresa was projecting, every time he took her. Instead of the two of them, Mr. and Mrs. Buzz Cherry, fucking and getting a whale of a kick out of their sex life, it seemed to Teresa to be her drunken uncle raping her all over again. Christ, there were times when Buzz was so fed up with it, he'd wanted to do just that himself, ram his cock right up her belly, boring and pounding and slamming into her tight, resistant little hole until he almost split her open, while, half out of her mind with the excruciatingly painful pleasure, she screamed and scratched and ... oh Christ! How could he even think such rotten things! Teresa was a wonderful woman and he loved her.
But God! If she'd only do something like letting him watch her undress! That was all he , asked! To see Teresa as she let that sexy housedress she wore fall to the floor, tumble around her feet, watch as she bent to pick it up, toning the full, rounded spheres of her ass-cheeks toward him so that he saw the thin white strip of her nylon panties tighten between her thighs, then slip provocatively into the furrows between the cheeks of her lovely ass. Watch as she eased the wisp of cloth down over her voluptuous thighs, her slim, long legs turning now to give him a glimpse of the luxurious curls of golden pussy hairs at the base of her belly; watch as she removed the lacy bra she wore, releasing those magnificent tits, so full, with their ruby-like nipples hardening in excitement, watch-Oh, Christ!
Buzz glanced at his watch. Teresa would be undressed and lying in bed now, waiting for him, in a conservative little nightgown that hid the marvelous contours of her luscious form. With a loud, sullen oath, Buzz hurled his book over to the other side of the room, listening with pleasure as it crashed. Then he went up to the bedroom. Teresa closed her eyes as Buzz entered the room. Now, she knew, he would be pulling off his sweater, dropping it on the floor, struggling out of his pants, his shirts, his shorts. Then, as he finished undressing and reached the bed, stretching out his hand to her thin nightgown, lifting her gently to slip it from her shoulders, she shuddered involuntarily. Why did she always think of her uncle at a time like this? Buzz was different, gentle-Buzz loved her. Yet, trying her best, she still could not help herself, and she shuddered again as her husband bent to caress her naked body, then to fasten his hot, hungry mouth on her own.
He eased himself on the bed beside her, stretching the full length of his body alongside hers. His mouth was on her own again, and then his tongue shot out, and Teresa opened her lips to receive it as it sank deep within, leaving her gasping for breath.
She flinched a little as his hands moved down to her softly trembling tits and began to knead them, then roamed over her soft white belly, her hips, to explore and caress the smooth white sensitive skin between her thighs. Oh, God, she thought, she loved Buzz, she really did. Yet even his most tender ministrations somehow always sent little waves of terror-and yes, of revulsion too-coursing through her. This is Buzz, she told herself. Buzz! My husband, not my uncle. Yet in her twisted, traumatized mind, the two became inextricably mixed.
He cupped the round, firm globes of her naked ass-cheeks now, and Teresa began to rock gently beneath him, grinding her nether cheeks deep into the mattress as she did so. That pleased men, she knew, her sister had said so. And yet it gave her none of that ecstasy that her sister had promised her. Nor did she feel the thrills, the excitement other women felt as he trailed his hands over the soft curve of her body, down along the line of shimmering golden fuzz that ended in the softly growing, strands of silky pussy-hairs over her cuntmound. I mustn't let him know I don't like it, she thought in a moment of panic, and so she began to mewl and purr, as if with pleasure, when his hands moved up again over the gentle swell of her belly to her huge ballooning tits. He took the snowy mounds in his two hands, cupping them, as the memory of her uncle raping her rose in her mind, and the same fear welled up in her throat, to be choked back, swallowed, as it always was. Oh God! Why was she like this? Why? Why?
Now she lay still beneath him, as he rubbed the stiff, bud-like tips of her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, feeling a slight quiver of pain as he coaxed them into hard, pulsing little stones that pressed against his palms.
Oh, no, she thought, as his mouth closed over one upright, button-like nipple, as his tongue laved it voluptuously, as he began to suck on it with a delicacy that any other woman, as Teresa knew, would find tantalizing and passion-inspiring. But the fear that he might cruelly, viciously bite into her sensitive flesh-as her uncle had bitten into hers-made her go almost rigid with fear. With a supreme effort of will, she forced herself to relax, to hide her feelings from her husband, to act as if she found the same soaring joy in his sexual overtures as he derived from them. He must never know the truth, she told herself, never!
And so, as Buzz's hand crawled down her belly again, as it slid to the blond silken strands at the base of it, Teresa began to moan, with little cries that might have been of passion coming from her throat. She increased the moans as he reached at last the warm, moist slit of her cunt-lips, then lay back, awaiting the moment when his finger would work its way into the wet, smoothly throbbing hole, vowing to herself not to whimper with the pain she was sure it would bring.
Even so, she jerked back involuntarily at the feel of her husband's huge cock pressed hard against her open thighs, at the sudden, sharp pang as one of his fingers worked its way slowly up into her tightly clasping cunt-hole. She was supposed to writhe and squirm her pussy around his probing middle finger, and if that was what she was supposed to do, she would do it, while Buzz increased the rhythm of his finger-fucking up into her open cunt, withdrawing his digit at last to search out and caress the small pink nub of her little clit, doing his best to stroke it into hardness with quick, swirling motions.
There were other things she was supposed to do, she remembered. She should take his prick in her hand, curling her fingers around it until he groaned with pleasure. Or tickle her nails over its smooth, rubbery head, along the underside of the stiff shaft, tease her fingertip up into the tiny parted hole. Or cradle and caress his silk-smooth, cum-laden balls in the softness of her palms.
But oh, dear God! How could she, she asked herself as his fingers plunged deep into her wet pussy again, impaling her, moving slowly, rhythmically, while Teresa moaned to hide her true feelings, to persuade her husband that she was sharing this ultimate joy with him.
There was a soft wet sucking sound as he withdrew his fingers from her tight little cunt, and then, with his thumb and forefinger spreading the lips wide between her thighs, he drew it open and eased his jutting, rock-hard cock to the smooth pink edges of it. He parted the silken curling pussy-hairs, then slowly, with the huge, pulsating tip of his shaft, pressed aside the petal-like lips of her cunt, worming it slowly and gently into the warmly clasping hole.
As his surging cock burrowed in up to the final depths of her widely stretching pussy, Teresa shifted so that her ass was upturned, the full plane of her nakedly impaled loins exposed to his fucking cock. She began to moan wildly, as he fucked in and out with long, quick strokes, his prick sinking in up to the hilt, his juice-swollen balls slapping rhythmically against the nudely grinding cheeks of her ass. He gasped, "Oh God! Oh, my God!" and Teresa knew that already the white hot juice was churning inside the smooth swollen sacs, that his pumping balls would spurt it forth soon, and so she began to gasp wildly into his ear. "Aaaaaagh! Aaaaaaagh! I'm cummin g, darling ... I'm cumming!" as the hot, sticky cum was forced in convulsive spasms up the full length of his rigidly pulsing cock to shoot wildly from the jerking tip into the forbidden recesses of her soft, quivering belly.
When at last Buzz withdrew his limp, deflated prick from her cum-flooded pussy and rolled, exhausted, to Teresa's side, she took his hand and held it to her lips. "That was sooooo good!" she whispered huskily.
But Buzz knew that the image of her uncle had been in her mind and that she had only felt disgust for his efforts to fuck her and make her feel it. That idea made him feel disgusted, too. He wished there was some way to solve this problem. As much as he loved his wife, he didn't know how long they could both survive under Teresa's problem. It was wearing him down, and he knew that it was hard on Teresa as well, maybe even harder. He would have to find a way to help them both. He would have to find a way!