Chapter 6
He stared at the telephone as if willing it to start ringing. The black, impersonal instrument gazed back at him silently, its gleaming deadness reflecting the blank, numbed state of Bruno's mind with appalling accuracy.
Two weeks had passed since that traumatic night in Estoril when he had burst in upon Caroline, Douglas and his wife. Bruno, after his initial outburst of rage and bitterness, had felt himself sinking into a sullen apathy; a kind of spiritual inertia which made nonsense of his earlier temper.
The situation was ludicrous: an occasion for amusement rather than histrionics, he realised. The three of them looked so absurd, lying there on the bed in that melange of twisted, naked bodies. His director's eye had given the grouping a critical, professional appraisal and before he was completely aware of what he was doing, Bruno had viewed the situation with a cold detachment; divorcing himself entirely from any emotional involvement.
He had wondered in the past exactly what the would do if he caught Daphne in bed with another man. That she would make up a threesome had never occured to him and he found the spectacle strangely impersonal as if it didn't really concern him in the least.
They seemed like characters in a play, totally without flesh and blood existence. The fact that one of them happened to be his wife only added to his curious feeling of disinterest. His wife ... Bruno had examined again the tenuous bonds which were supposed to tie husband and wife together throughout their married life. He had never felt that way about Daphne -never felt at all possessive towards her.
Sooner or later, he supposed that something like that night in Estorial would have occured. What he hadn't anticipated was this deadness, this apathy about her infidelity.
She had quickly rushed to his side and told him that it was all part of her plan to keep Douglas on their side. Apparently she had some wild idea that if she seduced Douglas he would feel obliged to remain loyal to Bruno (the poor, betrayed cuckold bit, Bruno thought with wry amusement) and refuse to sell the play unless they agreed to him directing it.
He was inclined to dismiss the story as an attempt to get round him: to cool his anger. Then, with amazement, Bruno realised that Daphne actually believed what she was telling him!
She was rationalising her desire for extramarital affairs by kidding herself that her seduction of Douglas would help her husband! Bruno had been too surprised at this insight into Daphne's psychological make-up to tell her that she was contriving to influence a man whose behaviour patterns were completely unknown to her.
Douglas wouldn't feel any additional loyalty to Bruno because he'd fucked the man's wife! For God's sake, Bruno thought. Daphne must have a crazy, romantic streak in her to believe for even one moment that such a thing was possible.
She could have been a bit more honest with herself and admitted that she was doing this simply because she wanted a different sex kick! But there could be no mistaking the surface honesty in Daphne's eyes. She really and truly believed that her little games with Caroline and Douglas weren't solely for her own pleasure ...
Bruno got up from his chair and mixed a drink: ice, a quarter-tumblerful of whisky and the merest splash of soda water. He carried the glass to the window and sipped the contents slowly, looking out across the London skyline.
High up on the eighth floor, he could see right over the Thames to St. Paul's Cathedral and the huge blocks of offices which were springing up, some to skyscraper proportion, around the City area. Soon, he thought, London would be indistinguishable from New York. Already the tempo of life was as frantic as that in the States and the landscape was quickly changing as well. Everything was moving swiftly towards a way of life in which the individual was submerged ... living a cell-like existence and serving the Machine of Progress___
Bruno turned away from the window. London depressed him lately. Perhaps he'd seen too much of it and knew its inhabitants a little too well. Knew their urge for constant diversion, their appetite for the sensational, their fickle and cultish tastes.
His sociological expertise served him well in television. His eyes and ears were attuned to the public's taste his public, that is, the viewing, goggling millions who had grown tired of mere soap opera and wanted something a little more intellectual. Not too arty and avantgarde, but way-out enough for them to feel that, in the security of their homes, they were participating in the excitement and novelty of the very latest culture trends.
Bruno Swanson had his finger firmly on the pulse of modern entertainment. He knew exactly how the pendulum swung. And in his choice and treatment of television plays he brought to the masses, ahead of every other producer or director, the very latest in acting styles, camerawork, "daring" themes and trendy plots.
And it was beginning to bore him stiff.
He was tired of striking a balance between the real innovators -the truly creative but little known artists and writers whose work he lifted -and the stale, middleof-the-road hacks who churned out 90% of the t.v. rubbish.
He desperately wanted a change, a different way of life. Bruno finished his drink and returned to his chair by the telephone. Mark Hammond should ring at any moment now and tell him if he wanted the play or not. And despite his growing lack of enthusiasm, Bruno was concerned about this particular project.
It represented more to him than just a chance to get his career on a better footing. Although Douglas had sworn to him (that night in the villa) that he wouldn't, under any circumstances, allow the play to be produced unless Bruno directed it, Bruno knew that it meant far too much to the writer for him to make such a sacrifice.
If Hammond rang and said he wanted the play but was "terribly afraid, old boy, that we don't think you're quite cut out to do the job of directing it" ... Bruno had not the slightest doubt that Douglas would back out of his promises.
He was bloody certain, if their positions were reversed, that he would! Hammond was their last chance. All the other produ cers had rejected the play as being "not entirely suitable for our network". Whether it was the play, or whether they had heard about Douglas's close connection with Bruno and that Bruno had spoiled the man's chances simply by his association with him, Swanson didn't know.
But Hammond, a old associate of Bruno's and a fairly good friend, was noted for his liberal and farsighted attitude towards experimental plays. He worked for Granada, a t.v. company in the north of England which had a reputation for fair dealing and unbiased professionalism. If he didn't like it they might as well tear the bloody thing up!
And Bruno, despite his indifference to Daphne's misconduct, wanted very much to stop his wife from being so patronising towards him. If the play was accepted and he directed it, it would be easy to show them all (Daphne, Douglas and Caroline) that their stupid little scheming had nothing at all to do with his reinstatement.
Because Hammond had never met Douglas Wilder, had never, consequently, been in a position to bargain with the writer. Since this particular negotiation was going to be effected through Bruno himself, they could hardly tell themselves that it was only thanks to Douglas's "loyalty" that Bruno had got the job ...
The phone rang suddenly. Although he was only a foot away from it, Bruno let it shrill for a count of ten before picking up the receiver. The first lesson he had learned in this game was: don't appear to be too eager!
Hammond was on the line. They spoke for about ten minutes and when Bruno said goodbye and put the phone down his hand was shaking violently. A wave of helpless laughter erupted from him, and he fell back into the chair convulsed with amusement.
When the initial spasm had worn off, Bruno's eyes were watering. He mopped them with a handkerchief and then paused, his hand still in front of his face, a sudden idea occuring to him.
Yes! he thought. Why not? Why the hell not? And he began to elaborate the inspiration, his mind growing more and more excited as the details fitted neatly into place ...
They sat uncomfortably as far away from each other as possible, avoiding contact and reluctant to allow even their eyes to meet. This was the first occasion since their return from vacation that the four of them had met, and nobody seemed to know the stilted atmosphere could be broken.
Only Bruno seemed perfectly at ease. He poured drinks and passed them round, a smile hovering constantly about his lips, chatting as if the Estoril incident had never happened.
Without telling them of the phone call from Mark Hammond, he had invited Douglas and Caroline to cocktails, letting them asume that he was going to castigate them for their immoral menage a trots. During the entire holiday Bruno had refused to discuss the matter. They had scarcely talked at all, except concerning the play, and the rest of the fortnight had been spent in an uneasy, pregnant embarrassment.
On their return, Daphne had tried many times to convince Bruno that she had only done it for him, but he cut her short -rejecting her explanation and declining to listen to her at all.
Now, he leaned against the low mahogany sideboard and regarded them benevolently. Bruno raised his glass.
"To Granada!" he proposed. "A very worthy name! A very intelligent and sharp-sighted company!"
Douglas came to his feet quickly. "You mean they liked the play?" he asked excitedly. "They've accepted it? God -that's marvellous, Bruno, Terrific! When did they tell you? I thought they were going to -".
Bruno held up his hand. "Hey, wait a minute! Calm down. Did I say they liked the play?" His eyes changed suddenly. They stared coldly into Douglas, all the warmth and humour abruptly switched off.
"They thought it was a load of crap!" he said slowly and distinctly. "In common with the other companies we sent it to, they rejected it. They turned it down flat*. He snapped his fingers sharply. "Like that!"
Douglas sank back into his chair, looking beaten and crushed. He stared into his glass hopelessly.
"Then we've had it", he said softly. "That's it, it's all over ... I'm sorry I put you to so much trouble, Bruno -.
"However", Bruno continued smoothly. "Mark Hammond, their number one producer, told me that he thinks there's a germ of a good play somewhere in it -and that if I directed it the incidentals might make the thing worth doing.
"In other words", Bruno looked at them carefully, making sure that they understood precisely what he was saying. "He had the foresight to see that with a really good director (I've no false modesty, you understand), with me in fact, the play could be turned into a visually interesting experience.
"Which places me in rather an amusing position. You see, I don't know whether I want to salvage your play now, Douggie-boy! I'm tired of television and I've been thinking for some time of going into movies ..."
"Don't think you can blackmail me!* Douglas cried suddenly. "You reckon you're pretty clever, playing cat and mouse with us, don't you? Well, let me tell you something -".
He stood up again and moved nearer to Bruno. "You're not the only good director in television! If you won't direct the play they can replace you -you're not unique, you know!"
Bruno sipped his drink and smiled. "Sorry to disappoint you", he told Douglas coolly. "But in this particular case -I am! You know as well as I do that no one else wants the play. Right? And Mark Hammond will only produce it with me directing!"
He gestured towards the telephone. "If you don't believe me, phone him. You'll find the number on the jotting pad and he'll probably be at home now!"
Douglas hesitated, frowning.
"Go on -phone him!" Bruno's eyes challenged the man, daring him to pick up the telephone and speak to Mark Hammond personally.
Douglas dropped his eyes. "All right", he said. "You win. What do I have to do? What sort of terms did you have in mind?"
Bruno walked past him and ran his eyes slowly over Caroline. The girl was wearing a very short mini dress; a bright, op-art creation in dazzling, clashing colours which clung silkily to her body and ended only a few inches below her crotch. With his back to Douglas, Bruno said:
"You know, I've been thinking about that first night of our holiday ... I was pretty slow, wasn't I? There you were, having a marvellous time together, and I played the heavy -the odd man out!
"Let's have a flashback, shall we? Suppose we turn the clock back and play that scene again: from the point where I make my entrance!"
"That's not very funny, Bruno!" Daphne got up from her chair in the far corner of the room and walked towards him. "I don't think that's very funny at all!"
"Who's laughing? Certainly not me!" Bruno kept his eyes on Caroline. The girl raised her head slowly and gave him a strange, half-frightened, half-curious look.
"Take you, for instance, Daphne*. His wife stopped, about five feet away from him. "You want sex pretty badly, don't you? You're not terribly fussy whether you're with a man or a woman -you just need to go further and further ... trying out every possible combination and position!
"Stop fooling yourself! You didn't really arrange that little orgy for poor old Bruno's benefit! And we all know it!" He was still staring at Caroline, talking to Daphne but exchanging a long, intense and mutual gaze with the girl ...
"We also know that Douglas hasn't very much choice in the matter, don't we? Unless he'd prefer to withdraw like the gentleman he is and leave us to get on with it?" Douglas was silent. "No? Well, that leaves you, darling!" He moved two paces nearer to Caroline. "What have you got to say about it? Eh?"
Daphne grabbed his arm and swung Bruno round to face her.
"What are you doing this for?" she pleaded. "Why, Bruno? What's got into you? You don't really want us to do these things, you know you don't!"
He pulled his arm free. "I told you", he replied coldly.
"I don't like being used ... manipulated! I was the square, wasn't I? The innocent who wasn't supposed to realise what was happening under his nose? Go on into the bedroom and draw the curtains: I want to see the entire performance this time, not just the climax!"
It had begun as a plan for revenge on them, Bruno realised. A sweetly humiliating vengeance for their scheming and -in particular -Daphne's patronising way of "looking after his interests". But now, staring into his wife's eyes and knowing that she was slowly capitulating, Bruno saw that these reasons were totally inadequate to explain his conduct.
She was right. He wasn't really like this: it was as much out of character as Daphne's flaunting of her body in the Estoril villa. Perhaps her recently acquired sensuality was contagious! Maybe she, too, was hungry for novelty and a change of scenery -and it had affected Daphne in this particular way; she sought fresh kicks in different sexual experiences ...
Bruno didn't care very much what motives had inspired him to blackmail Douglas into a sex orgy. He had felt, during the minutes when he was staring into Caroline's eyes, a strong and rising desire to caress the girl's body.
His fingers itched, the palms of his hands were slightly damp with the urge. Bruno wondered momentarily if it was the girl's intimate connection with Daphne that had triggered his sudden lust for her. He had honestly never thought about her as a sex partner until this afternoon, and had scarcely glanced at Caroline after surprising her with Douglas and Daphne.
Now ... He felt that the reasons and motives behind his present state of mind were completely irrelevant. He was only truly aware of the trembling at his loins, the tense state of his prick as it stirred beneath his tight hipster slacks.
Without saying a word, Daphne walked in front of him and disappeared into the bedroom. A moment later they heard the swish of the curtains being drawn. Bruno reached out his hand to Caroline -and the girl took it, allowing him to pull her up from the chair and draw her firmly against his body.
She put her arms around his waist, locking her fingers at the base of his spine and letting herself lean forward. Bruno nuzzled his cheek against hers, stroking firmly up and down her back -feeling the warmth and softness of the girl's skin through her thin, silky dress.
"Let's dance!" he whispered into her ear. And started to force Caroline in a slow, sensual series of movements towards the bedroom.
She made no protest, gliding in his arms with a snuggling complacence, her head resting on his shoulder and her eyes closed.
Douglas was left standing in the middle of the lounge, holding his half-empty glass in one hand, the other raised in a futile gesture of ineffectual outrage. He watched Bruno and Caroline pass through the open door into the bedroom and move out of sight. For the space of, perhaps, five seconds Douglas hesitated. Then he tossed off his whisky and followed them, slamming the door shut and plunging the room into semi-darkness.
Daphne had already stripped off her dress and was lying seductively on the bed clad only in her bra, stockings and panties. The last rays of the dying sun were filtering through a small gap in the curtains, but they cast only a very small amount of light -making their figures shadowy and vague.
"We don't want to make Daphne feel embarrassed", Bruno whispered in Caroline's ear. He kissed the lobe tenderly. "Why don't you slip out of your dress?"
"Why don't you help me?" the girl suggested. She rubbed her body more firmly against him, her breasts pressing heavily into his chest.
Bruno felt for the buttons, unfastening them as slowly as possible and caressing the warm skin which his fingers were gradually laying bare. He had to stoop a little to reach the lower ones and as he drew her short dress away from her back his hands cupped the pantie-clad cheeks of her bottom, fondling them with probing, greedy fingers.
Caroline slipped the straps off her shoulders, then let the garment rustle to the floor between their bodies. Bruno rose to his full height again, holding the girl tightly to him, looking down at the marvellously rich globes of her breasts. They stuck out proudly from twin, lace-trimmed cups -the white swells overflowing the tight, nipped-in harness.
His hands roamed over her now nude back, found the thin strap of her brassiere and unhooked it expertly. She wriggled her shoulders, holding him slightly away from her body so that the bra could join her dress on the carpet. It dropped away from her breasts slowly, as if reluctant to leave the warmth of her flesh, and Caroline ran her fingers beneath them, jiggling the full and creamy orbs and whispering: "Do you like them?"'
Bruno nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the wonderful spectacle. She rubbed her thumbs deliberately over her nipples, causing them to perk up stiffly. Bruno let his hands fall to the girl's buttocks again, gripping the cheeks more firmly and making them shiver and wobble under his fingers.
"Let's go to the bed", he urged her. "I want to feel them properly!" Bruno's cock was writhing furiously now, making the front of his trousers bulge out ominously.
Caroline dropped one hand and let it brush softly against the protuberance.
"My!" she whispered. "You're really hard, aren't you? I think we ought to have those pants off, you know your poor prick can scarcely move inside them!"
He led her quickly to the bed, lowering the girl alongside Daphne's scantily-clad body, where she immediately moved as close as possible to the woman and draped her arm around Daphne's shoulders. Her fingers were just able to reach the soft slope of Daphne's upper breast; they fumbled beneath the black brassiere and, by stretching her arm, Caroline managed to push them onto the woman's nipple, rubbing the red morsel into erectness beneath Daphne's bra.
Bruno had paused to strip off his shirt and slacks before joining the girls. He was about to pull his underpant down as well when Caroline stopped him.
"Let me do that", she insisted. And he felt her soft fingers tugging at the tight waistband of his briefs, dragging them carefully over the hard bulge of his cock. She exposed his genitals completely, then let her hand trickle teasingly over the low-slung balls and upwards onto his shaft.
When they had caressed up to his belly, Caroline stroked the hairs gently, whispering: "Take them right off, Bruno. Then push yourself against me! I want you so much ...! The last words were no more than the merest murmur, a soft, liquid sigh.
He pulled the pants down his legs and climbed onto the bed, laying his hand on Caroline's waist -his fingers just above the white elastic of her panties. The girl slipped her other arm around his shoulders, keeping her right hand in Daphne's brassiere, and drew him gradually on top of her nearly-naked body.
Bruno lowered himself down, feeling Caroline's yielding flesh meeting his own: their bellies pressing tightly together, his prick pulsing against the girl's hard pubic mound.
Daphne had unfastened her brassiere now and the undergarment was being slipped away from her shoulders by Douglas. Caroline's husband had stepped to the side of the bed and removed his own trousers and shirt. He now lay beside Daphne, wearing only his nylon pants; the swelling of his prick bulging into the woman's thigh.
Her head turned towards Daphne, Caroline whispered: "Thanks", and proceeded to caress the naked breast thoroughly -her fingers twisting the orb upwards so that she was able to play with the nipple.
Daphne contented herself with Douglas's cock; slipping her hand between the man's thighs and closing her fingers tightly around the rigid, trembling weapon. She brought him quickly to a peak of excitement, her expert fondling -even through the material of his underpants -giving Douglas a sharp, delicious thrill.
The twitching of his prick became more and more intense, his shaft straining against the tender caress of Daphne's fingers. He put his own hand on her crotch, rubbing around the sinewy flesh below her mons veneris until his fingers pushed into the slit of her cunt -forcing the silk of her panties to sink inwards between the lips.
His palm resting firmly on her pubic mound, Douglas frigged his tightly-squashed fingers up and down the long, plump swelling of her sex: increasing the speed gradually so that the woman was worked into a steadily progressive excitation.
Meanhwile, Bruno had wriggled down Caroline's body until his mouth was over the girl's breasts. He surveyed the tempting nipples avidly, then cupped one of her tits between his fingers and shaped it into an elongated pear. His lips parted, Bruno closed the distance and sank his teeth greedily into the hard, ripe teat -worrying it roughly, shaking Caroline's breast from side to side as he alternately sucked and nibbled on her pearl-hard cherry.
His free hand fumbled for her panties, but she stopped him; grabbing his wrist and guiding it to her bottom. Caroline thrust herself up so that Bruno could squeeze his fingers beneath her buttocks, then lowered her body down again -pinning his hand between the sheet and her arse.
Bruno worked his fingers under the silk edge of her panties until they pushed into the sheen of her arseflesh. He rubbed them lustfully up and down the cheek, then stretched them until they were able to reach into the heated furrow of her bottom and flick against the girl's moist, velvet-soft rear hole.
Caroline, still fondling at Daphne's nipple with a continuous scratching action of her forefinger, took Bruno's cock in her other hand and guided it against the inside of her thigh -right at the top where her curvy leg joined her crotch.
She fumbled the tight silk away from her cunt, folding the material so that it completely exposed the plump, juicy lips, then began to steer his prick into the revealed red slit.
Skilfully wiggling her hips and thrusting them down wards, Caroline succeeded in getting Bruno's penis firmly into her quim. The fleshy cunt-folds snapped into place around the angry shaft, kissing Bruno's cock in a possessive, intimate mouthing -and he lunged slowly forward, thrusting his prick deeply into the girl's willing sex.
Caroline waited until he had penetrated her to his hilt, then pulled her panties snugly back into position: fitting the tight silk around Bruno's cock so that it pressed fiercely against the tender rod -just above his testicles.
And as Bruno started to fuck her, the edge of Caroline's panties rubbed roughly into his prick: sending a sharp sensation of pain-pleasure through his genitals.
She raised her knees deliberately, lifting them until they were level with Bruno's chest. He was still sucking urgently on her nipple -the swollen teat bruised and quivering in the heat of his mouth -and the girl's action, causing her panties to tighten and clench even more closely around his rod, made him bite into the hard, tasty bud with fury ...
Douglas had drawn Daphne's panties off by now and was stroking his hand up the inside of her stockinged thigh. The woman was relatively passive, lying on her back, her breast being fondled by Caroline's hand, her own fingers rubbing gently at Douglas's cock -which she had pulled halfway out of his underpants: the crown and half of his length protruding from the top of his tight briefs.
Her legs were parted, revealing the sweetly shaped hps of her cunt; the suspender belt biting into her soft flesh just above her sex-mound.
Douglas felt his fingers tingling as they caressed the electric silk of her stocking. Beneath the hose, Daphne's thigh was particularly fleshy and soft. The woman was relaxing her leg muscles on purpose, knowing that the man loved to fondle her thigh with the skin loose and supple.
He moved his fingers onto the naked area between her stocking-tops and crotch, spreading his hand out to encompass as much of the gorgeous sleek thigh as possible.
They roved anxiously across the curve of Daphne's crotch, crooking at the second joint to slip between her cunt-lips and probe deliciously inwards. He sank all four fingers into her slit, using his thumb to give her violently sensitive clitty a taunting, rhythmical rub.
Daphne came to life at this caress, the man's ceaselessly tormenting thumb provoking her poor, tender clitoris to a wild, tickling frenzy.
She frigged his prick more urgently -shaking the visible top half between her forefinger and thumb, jerking it ruthlessly and causing the foreskin to move up and down over the helmet at a fantastic speed.
But this did very little to satisfy the woman. Daphne ached to feel his cock sliding into her body, to feel his hard, rigid length forcing the lips of her cunt to open ...
Gasping for breath, she drew him on top of her, stretching her thighs wide and manipulating his weapon until it was poised at the opening of her agitated quim. Not bothering to pull his underpants down, Daphne levered Douglas's horny staff into her wet slit, greedily bearing down on the fast-sinking cock___
It was beating with a mighty, quivering pulse against the hot walls of her cunt, the iron-hard phallus cramming Daphne's soft and liquid hole to capacity.
Douglas could feel his black underpants sticking with agonising pressure into the tender spot where his balls were joined to his prick. The tight elastic waistband was constricting his testicles -and each time he withdrew from Daphne's quim it seemed to stretch more tautly against them. Then, as his passion mounted and his fucking increased its momentum, Douglas realised that, imperceptibly, his pain had become pleasure! Far from hurting him, the tightness of his briefs felt incredibly sexy and stimulating! He renewed his strokes in and out of Daphne's cunt with vigor -careening his cock more and more violently into the woman's lusciously moist crack.
Now that Douglas was safely inside her, Daphne allowed her hand to stray across to Caroline's stomach. She pushed her fingers between Bruno's body and the girl's and poked them securely downwards until they were able to touch the raised protuberance of Caroline's Mount of Venus.
She fondled the hard, sexy mound briefly, then splayed her fingers and thrust them between the oily, urgently fucking prick working them relentlessly into the girl's cunt -squeezing her digits alongside Bruno's pistonlike shaft.
They were unable to penetrate Caroline fully, of course, but Daphne did manage to insert them a fair way into the girl: moving them in a firm, precise wiggling against the wet red flesh which surrounded Caroline's vulva.
She could feel Bruno's cock pushing past her fingers as it rammed its fiery path in and out of the girl's quim. The rigid, blood-coloured weapon squashed through her open digits and gave Daphne an added thrill; combining with the pleasure of Douglas's fucking penis and making her experience an overwhelming ecstacy ...
Before he grew too carried away, Bruno thought it would be pleasant to adopt an even closer and sexier grouping. He deliberated on the possible variations for a few moments, then:
"Would you like to suck me?" he whispered into Caroline's ear. The girl was too engrossed in her enjoyment to understand him at first. Bruno repeated the suggestion.
She nodded, half-opening her hot-lidded eyes to give him a tender, enraptured stare. Bruno eased his prick out of her cunt and crawled to the top of the bed, kneeling over Caroline's face and aiming his glistening cock at the girl's mouth.
She stretched her lips wide and sucked the long, thick stem inwards, running her tongue lasciviously over the spunk-stained shaft and wriggling her mouth sexily on her prize.
Daphne murmured softly to Douglas, her mouth brushing against his neck. And he slid his penis slowly out of her quim and waited until the woman had positioned herself intimately between Caroline's thighs. When she had buried her face in the girl's crotch and was sucking deeply into Caroline's cunt -her head bobbing up and down, then from side to side -Douglas moved behind her.
He placed his hands firmly on her buttocks and stretched them as wide as possible. Daphne was kneeling with her bottom stuck rudely in the air, her back bent over and her legs akimbo.
Douglas knelt closely behind her and carefully levered his cock into her from behind -holding it steady and drawing the lips of her quim open with his free hand. A little patience, a little judicious manouevering, and he succeeded in penetrating her ...
Once more he felt his prick roving with long, angry thrust into Daphne's cunt. And beyond her he could see his wife -a view which was slightly obscured by Bruno's thighs -as she sucked deeply on another man's penis. Somehow, the spectacle didn't bother Douglas. He thought of them at the moment as being one multi-limbed Being: a sprawling, insatiable monster whose appetite for selfish lust was turned in upon itself. Forever fondling, caressing and sucking at its own various mouths and genitals.
He knew that his climax was imminent; a harsh, urgent desire was spreading through him to shoot his spunk relentlessly into Daphne's tight-lipped quim.
And she, in turn, would take the full force of Caroline's love-juice down her throat. The girl-fluid would be expelled through her cunt and soak his prick ...
Then Bruno, his cock licked and sucked until his sperm could no longer be contained, would spill his seed into Caroline's mouth ... where the hot, fatty milk must be pumped through the girl's stomach and dripped out of her pussy into Daphne's lips ...
And so on, forever and ever -a closed and vicious circle which could never be broken ...
Douglas, teetering helplessly on the brink of babbling insanity, clasped his hands tightly around Daphne's breasts, leaning forward over the woman and jetting his spunk gloriously into her -a tense, silver spray of thick cream which felt as if would never end ...
The fast-flowing stream which gushed into her cunt tickled Daphne into yielding her own love-juice. With her tongue running wild inside Caroline's already bubbling quim, she reached the peak of her lust and tried frantically to remain there: straining her mind and her sex to prolong the orgasm indefinitely.
Her lips slithering on the slippery shaft of Bruno's cock, Caroline poured her milky cream out -the tantalising quivering of Caroline's tongue making it impossible for the girl to hold back another second ...
Sensing that the others had already passed the zenith of their pleasure, Bruno required only three or four quick and compulsive jerks of his prick to bring it to boding point. He grabbed at Caroline's wrist and brought the girl's hand to his cock, forcing her to hold it steady while he spurted his fat down her throat.
Before he allowed his head to fall back onto the pillow and sink into a sated, mindless sleep. Bruno opened his eyes and ran them slowly over his bed-partners.
"What do I do now?" he wondered, his lips mouthing the words silently. "Do I play fair with them and direct the play? Or do I thumb my nose at them?"
He felt too exhausted to come a decision at the moment. In any case, he reflected sleepily, neither alternative would completely resolve the situation. There would still be a doubt in his mind that he had done the wrong thing. There would always be a doubt ... always.
He had long ago ceased to hope that real life might come to resemble his plays: all the ends neatly tied and parcelled, no one left in uncertainty ... But it wasn't fair! It really wasn't -life should be like that! You shouldn't have to suffer these pangs of doubt and indecision.
That was one of the reasons he reacted so strongly against the Harold Pinter school of playwrights. They always left their characters' dilemmas unresolved.
Bruno wanted so much to know exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it. And no matter how he viewed it, the present situation seemed to require a purely arbitrary decision on his part. A solution of sheer ca price ...
He sighed wearily and let his head sink into the pillow. "To be or not to be ... to cheat or not to cheat!" Before his eyes finally closed, Bruno gazed once more upon the still, sprawled bodies of Caroline, Douglas and his wife.
And for several minutes after he shut them, their images remained on his retina -then faded gradually into a shapeless white reverie which, in turn, became a dreamless and very sound sleep.