Chapter 8
On the evening John and Rosalind Alston had set aside to play the tie-up game in their new apartment, a phone call came that changed their plans for the evening... and though they had no idea then, a call that was to change their lives.
"John?" a sexy female voice purred in his ear. "This is Lori Seaver. How are you?"
Nonplussed, John suffered momentarily from a tongue-tiedness. It was Lori Seaver-the so-sexy wife of the owner of Premier Building and Loan, where both John and Roz worked. She was barely past the "Mrs. Seaver" stage to John, who had become "John" to her husband, rather than the cool, businesslike "Mr. Alston" only three years ago when he had transferred John in from the Westside branch to manage Premier's main office. Pete and Lori Seaver had come to the wedding, naturally. Though it was a small affair, John and Roz had naturally invited the company's owner. They'd been pleased, slightly surprised when Pete and Lori had not only shown up but given them the supersensible gift of an entire set of plastic dinnerware. And now... an evening phone call? And tonight, of all nights, with the Alstons getting ready to play Sheik and harem girl, or captive, or whatever.
"Oh, hi Lori Seaver," he said, unsure whether to use her first or last name and so using both. "I'm good, better than good, thanks."
"Your new bride keeping you happy?"
"Absolutely!"
"Good. You deserve it-and I hope she deserves you!"
"She deserves better," John said, wondering why the hell she'd called and when they would can the bullshit and get to it.
"Well," that purring, butter-in-the-throat voice said, "I might dispute that, John. But let me talk with the pretty lady if she's available, will you?"
"Sure. She's right here. Just a minute."
Rosalind was waiting in the bedroom, where she'd lit a fat candle. She was wearing a bra to which she'd attached scintillant sequins of black and icy blue, the gold cord from her tan dress with two strips of satin pulled through it, one fore and one aft, stockings with fancy rosettes on the garters and strap sandals.
"Has my master completed his other business?" she asked, role playing.
"Damn!" John shook his head. "Of all times- you look terrific, darling! Better than terrific- and that damned phone call is for you."
"Me. Tell 'em I'm sick or gone to sleep or in Katmandu or something!"
"Don't dare. I can't imagine what she wants, but it's Lori Seaver."
"Lori Seaver!" Roz stood up swiftly. "What's she w- sorry." She heaved a great sigh that made the sequins flash a thousand times. "Oh... kay," she said and walked past him to the phone in the hall.
He was still trying to dope out what the devil to put on, if anything, when Roz was back. "Hey! It's an invitation. The Seavers are having a party-sort of, she says, for the Alstons."
"For us?"
"She says sort of an introduction of the new Mrs. John Alston, 'Rosalind darling.'" He grinned. "Not a bad imitation, baby. When? Hell, it doesn't matter-we're delighted and we'll be there, whenever it is, right?"
"Ri-i-i-ight." And Roz went back to the phone, her ankle-length tail of lavender satin switching.
When she returned, they hugged, delighted, pleased more than a little at the call, the invitation, the party. They began babbling, somehow got themselves a drink made and talked about their introduction to "high sassiety" until it was so late they dared not do anything but go to bed to sleep.
"You have more of a giving nature than anyone I've ever known," John Alston told his wife a couple of days later. "You can't do enough for me, can you? You even try to anticipate what I might need-or even want."
Roz looked at him, wide-eyed, thinking about it. She nodded. "Yes, sure. I hadn't thought about it. It's the way I am. I like to do for. I'd rather do for you than anyone in the world-anyone I've ever known before. Do I... bother you?"
"Nope. I guess it's possible that you could. If it starts to get that way, ever, I hope I can have the good sense and gumption to tell you about it... and not when I'm mad."
"I'll try never to make you mad," she said, softly. "I already do try. I don't want to do anything to make you angry with me, darling. If I do, tell me about it-whether it's right then or later. Just tell me to shut up or bug off, or something."
"I don't think I could do that."
She smiled, rose and came to give him a squeeze and a kiss. His hand fondled her backside.
She straightened. "I've got some things to do in the kitchen... want a Tab?"
"Shut up. Or bug off, or something."
They laughed and he sat thinking about her while she went out to the kitchen. Could he ever really, seriously say something like that to this woman? He couldn't imagine it.
When she came back into the living room, he was still thinking about her. And though he hadn't touched himself, he also had an erection. Roz noticed. Roz also got it, in short order. Together, they melted it down very nicely.
The Seavers' party for the Alstons was full of new experiences for Rosalind. She and John met a lot of people for the first time and a lot of them had a great deal more money than they. Others had both money and position. Professionals, managers, that sort of people. She coped well, though she was nervous; it was John-and Lori Seaver-who assured her that she had handled herself well.
It was only after they'd gotten home that John told her why Pete Seaver had highsigned him and they'd gone off together. He had offered John a new title; Vice-president and General Manager, Premier Building and Loan.
What did it mean? The title, mostly. A little more say-so in the determination of policy. And a couple of hundred dollars a month more in salary, with an interesting little bonus setup, based on amount and quality of business. And what would that amount to? Another couple of thousand a year or so, "unless I really screw up," John said.
Seaver also asked if there were possible difficulties in the situation of John's and Roz's both working in the same office. Possibly, John admitted and Seaver offered to make her assistant manager at the Huntley Plaza Branch. That was as much a surprise to Roz as John's elevation-naturally he accepted-and considerably more of a shock. She didn't want to do it; John persuaded her to try it for a few months, anyhow.
"You've talked about my giving nature, that I like to do for," Roz said. "What I'd really love to do is spit in the eye of this self-actualization stuff and quit working-for money, I mean. Being your wife is my self-actualization, whatever exactly that means. I'd like to be a full-time wife."
He did not disagree-but they agreed that she'd still try the new job at Huntley Plaza, at least for a few months. It was an opportunity to amass a chunk of money-what the Feds didn't take under duress on April 15th-and buy both a new car and a nicer place to live. A house, maybe.
Meanwhile, the party brought other new experiences.
For one thing, Pete Seaver was most attentive to Roz, in her new dress with the gold-lame bodice and low round neckline. She wasn't certain whether he was flirting or not, or if he were if he meant anything by it. It made her both uncomfortable and happy. Whatever his motives, he was most attentive.
With John, matters were definite: Lori Seaver was not only attentive, but definitely flirtatious and she was one of the most sensuous women in town. Perhaps strangely, Lori and Roz also got along very well and enjoyed a one-to-one conversation that lasted nearly an hour, unusual at a party-particularly when Lori was one of the hosts.
Roz was pleasantly surprised when Lori called to ask her to go shopping with her the following Saturday. Shopping really wasn't Roz's thing and certainly her economic situation was a lot different from Lori's; Pete Seaver, self-made, was supposed to have close onto a million now, at age thirty-four.
Again though, Roz was comfortable; Lori saw to that. There was no embarrassment about who could afford what and who spent what, or into which stores they went. They spent two hours over lunch, talking. And they liked each other, obviously. Roz was fascinated to learn that Lori had been Pete's first secretary; she had come from not-quite-poverty, her father dead and her mother working, had gone from high school into secretarial school, had got a job in an insurance office, had hated it mainly because "this fat old bastard" was obviously after her splendid young body and had been one of several applicants to be clerk-typist in a new loan company a-forming. After a few months she was secretary to its founder and unusually hard-working founder, Pete Seaver and just over a year later they were married. She had worked until only two years ago, by which time Premier B & L had four branches and Pete Seaver had joined the ranks of the new rich.
Lori Seaver knew how to act and how to dress-and yet she'd come from what was usually referred to as the bottom Her attention was nice support for Roz-and so were Lori's compliments on her looks and her attire. It was Lori who suggested a new hair style, saying she thought it was Roz. She pointed out to Roz two examples of that style that afternoon. Roz thought they looked nice, but... on her? She'd talk with John about it.
After a couple more get-togethers with Lori, Roz caught herself turning on. It was then she realized: this was the first time she had been friends, just friends, with a woman she was attracted to, without sharing sex. Lori continued to be complimentary and in the old days Roz would have thought the other woman was attracted to her, physically/sexually. But of course they were both married.
That made it quite a surprise when, on the Friday night that both Pete and John flew to Washington for a meeting with representatives of the Fed, Roz accepted the invitation to stay with Lori... and they wound up making superb and totally mutual lesbian love.
They did again the next morning, too.
Lori thought Roz was so attractive and sexy.
Roz thought Lori was so attractive and sexy!
Roz's guilt came and went. Both women were obviously loved by their husbands and in love with them and both of them were obviously happy with heterosexuality. Roz mentioned that on the occasion of her second girl-to-girl session with Lori.
"Well, I just guess so!" Lori said, idly tracing out the dark patch of shiny, slightly milk-bumpy skin around her nipple. "We aren't lesbians, Roz, after all! Good grief! If you were a lesbian we wouldn't be doing this-believe me! I've known for years that I'm bisexual-haven't you?"
No, Roz hadn't. It had not occurred to her. She thought about it-while the other woman simultaneously sucked her breast and fingered her vulva with gentle, loving woman-hands.
So I'm bisexual! I'll be darned! AC-DC has always sounded so nasty, icky-but it's nice! How nice!
I guess... I think... I hope, she added mentally, thinking about John.
"Lesbians don't divide things into woman-man nearly as much as people think they do," Roz said, idly fondling Lori's tight ass. "How about bisexuals?"
"Hmm?" Lori lifted her flushed face from Roz's breast. "What do you mean? Lord, I'm no expert, Roz-how about bisexuals what?"
"Uh... well... what I mean is... both of us dig men-"
"And how!"
Roz laughed. "Right. And we both love, ah, making love with our husbands-"
"You mean fucking with our husbands. Truth to tell," Lori said, "I really dig being fucked. That man I'm married to is one in about ten million. Don't ever tell him, but I've practically worshipped him for eleven years-ever since I met him. Well, right after, anyhow."
"That sounds like me," Roz sighed dreamily, "though it's been a lot less longer. I'm the kid in the bunch, remember... I'll be twenty-six month after next."
"Ah shut up, little girl. So Pete's thirty-six and John's... what? Thirty-one or two?"
"Five," Roz said, pleased that her friend had underestimated John's age.
"Hmp! Mighty well preserved-he looks younger'n Pete, damn his tight little ass. Oh, pardon me."
Roz laughed. "It's all right. I love that tight little, ah, ass you're damning!"
"So do I! Hang onto it, girl, or I'll be patting him when you're not looking." And she fondled Roz's bottom, which was gloriously bare, on Lori's sheet.
"Just content yourself with mine, darling! You, uh, aren't going to be telling your age, hmmm?"
"I'm twenty-nine," Lori said. "I may be twenty-nine next year, too. I hate it. Thirty's always sounded so old. A real milestone. Twenty-nine sounds about fifty years younger than thirty."
"I hope not. Anyhow, you won't ever look your age. You're so interested in keeping your figure-I think it's wonderful that you have, Lori and with two children, too."
Lori shrugged, prone on the bed. "You know how I fight to keep it. You've seen me eat... "
"Not eat," Roz laughed.
"Anyhow, what about what you were saying. How about bisexuals... what?"
"Oh. What I meant was-us. We like, uh-"
"Come on, Roz, get over that language hangup. If you can't say 'fucking,' try 'screwing' or 'balling.'"
"Screwing, balling and fucking," Roz said, but she still dropped her voice on the last word. "So-do bisexual women fuck?"
"You mean like-men and women?"
"Yeah."
Lori chuckled, purring out the sexy sound from her throat. "You want to fuck me, Roz?"
"Well... actually I was thinking... I'd like... I was thinking about you fucking me."
This time Lori laughed aloud and gave her friend's breast a squeeze. "Ha! And I was thinking about you fucking me! See what helpless little heterosexuals we really are? God, wouldn't we just disgust real lesbians!"
"Yes," Roz said, thinking abruptly and only momentarily about Char.
"Well... there's something girls can do, us girls I mean," Lori said, scrambling. "It's called... I forget. No, it's tribadism. That's it. Tribadism. One gets on top, see, like this. And they rub their cunts together. Their... clits."
They tried. It was rather nice-for awhile. Then it grew frustrating. Their clitorises just wouldn't match up. Besides, with someone atop her this way, moving, rubbing, Roz wanted what went it-what she and John called his bone up inside her.
So Lori got out her battery vibrator and they not only clitorally buzzed each other with the humming hunk of pink plastic, they used it each inside the other, too. Next day Roz went home, keeping her secret, trying to find a way either to stop with Lori or at least to tell John and not being able to think of that way. Meanwhile, she progressed in heterosexual lovemaking.
This time she fondled and licked and sucked her man's penis until it was high and hard and then she rose over him while he lay grinning on his back. She grinned right back.
"You sure you want to ride me, babe?"
"Sure," she told him. "You just relax and let me do the screwing tonight. I really feel that I owe you... no one ever... kissed me the way you did, before."
He smiled. "I didn't kiss you, darling, I licked your ass. And I'll tell you the truth-it's the first time I ever did it. When you did it to me, I just suddenly-"
"Wanted to return the favor?"
He shook his head, back and forth on the pillow. "No. I wanted to do it. I wanted to know what it felt like to do it-it sure feels great to receive!"
"Agreed," she said, squirming a little. Her crack and anus were still saliva-wet from his long tonguing her there. "And now-see how you like receiving this."
Astride him, the squatting woman impaled herself on him, letting her straining cunt come sliding down the fleshy column like a fireman riding down a slick pole. And yes, the fire was there, blazing in their uniting genitals. Long, thick cock slipped up and up into her receptive and thoroughly wet belly. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh...!"
Her eyes went wide as the shaking woman felt herself impaled on cock, all the way in and up to her humid pussy's torrid depths.
She began riding at once, bouncing on his standing dick.
She rode him in a transport of rapturous carnal joy, cramming and jamming herself down that tall, pulsing erection. Wild waves of desire washed and ravished her body, almost visible in the ripple of her sleek skin, the swing and tremulous bouncing of her naked breasts. Restlessly they jumped and swung and jiggled in a primitive tempo. Her breath came hard and feist as she fucked him, fucked herself on him.
Hot cock stuffed her full, gouged deep, for she herself ground her vagina down it as if in berserk efforts to puncture her cunt lining and impale her guts.
The length of hot maleness so deeply in her by her own efforts made her shiver and the blood pounded through her writhing, twitching body in hot rivulets. More hot juices rolled down the shank of his hard-on as her cunt oiled itself more and more copiously. His prick was slick with it, shining and coated and dripping. It nearly flopped from her with each of her high-rising, down-grinding strokes.
The passion-abandoned girl drove herself down the thick stalk in a transcendent, heated fury of passion.
Her vision failed.
The room seemed to turn blue and swim all around her.
Her tits jumped and jiggled, the big cream-puffs swinging in broad parabolas and looking as if they were about to tear loose from her body with her frenetic exertions.
Higher she rose, to gain a longer and more pleasing descent. Each descent was like a brand new entry, this way. Each entry glazed her eyes and sent her pussy sliding slurpily all the way down the long thick pipe of his cock.
Twice that slippery dick popped completely out of her.
She was so wide open now, though, that her gaping oily split found and engulfed his standing organ with absolutely no difficulty.
Then he groaned, wincing and she grunted with pain. Her eyes flared very wide and a great shudder went all through her.
"Ah-my... God!!"
She didn't know how it could have happened. It was awful. True, she had been completely out of her mind, out of contact with immediate reality, completely caught up in fucking. Maybe he had moved. Maybe she had done it all herself- to herself.
However, whatever the cause, she had just lost another maidenhead.
She now sat spitted all the way up the ass on that huge throbbing cunt-wet cock!
"D-dear... God!"
"You said it," the prostrate man groaned. "Christ, but you're so hot and tight in there!"
"I-I'm almost afraid t-to move!"
"Don't then," he said. "Just... be still, or you'll hurt us both. You-you'll loosen up in a moment... "
She was still and both of them felt the lessening of pressure. It was slight. The pain left, but the intense stuffed tight sensation remained.
"Let-let... let me get off it," she said, almost whimpering, reaching for the big male hands that had suddenly grasped her dangling breasts like steel bands.
"Never in this world!"
He hung onto her tits and grinned up at the shuddering, shocked, suddenly very girlish woman sitting straight up on his hips-with her womanly hole gaping emptily and oozing its juices down into his upper pubic hair... and his cock utterly contained in the clenching quivering virginal scabbard of her dilated ass.
"You know how I love your beautiful ass, darling! Oh how I've wanted it," he told her, fingering her nipples. "For a long time, bet on it! And I've been too chickenshit to say so. Now you've accidentally taken me in there, up your sweet tight hot anus, darling and now that I've got it I am not about to let you go!"
"B-but-but... its ob-"
"-scene," he finished. "Of course. So is licking and sucking as we do. Good lord, we love, we belong to each other and own each other-we do what we please and there's no judging uptight peeping in the window to cart us off for the 'crime' of sodomy! Oh no. Think-does it hurt?"
"N... no... so, so full... "
"Of course. So tight to me! So hot-so good! All right, harem girl, here's what the sultan demands this night-assfuck yourself! Screw yourself up the back, darling and in one minute tell me if it hurts and is awful. Bounce, twist, jiggle-ride that cock!!"
The confused woman blinked.
Bereft of pleasantly filling maleness, her pussy was open and awash with rich fluids. It dribbled down onto her thighs, onto him, onto the bed.
"But-but-" He tweaked her nipples, lovingly-but she knew that he was ready to grab tightly if she tried removing her violently, grotesquely, obscenely stretched anus from its surprise impalement.
"But!" he said. "Yes! Yes, that's what I want, sweetheart-butt! Your butt, all pretty and pouty of cheek and all tight and hot and slippery inside, riding and riding up and down on my bone!"
She shivered. Her teeth set into her lower lip. Having forced its way easily through that so-powerful sphincter and through her efforts, not his-his closely grasped cock wallowed in the deep channel to her bowels. And... strange, intimately secret little surges shot all through her at his words and tightened the silky textures of her belly. It quivered.
A hot flush of perverse pleasure darkened her face.
"All right!" she said in a swift heated rush and tore through another barrier, another breakthrough into full sexuality. "All right! Get ready, Mr. Sultan, Mr. Vice President and General Manager! Because you aren't going to last long with me wiggling on you, ass fucking myself, pumping up and down on that prick I feel up me-I'm going to clutch that great big bony penetrator of yours up inside my-my hot tight anus until you beg!"
He jiggled her jiggly tits and grinned more broadly. "Try me, wench."
She began moving, tentatively.
Even though his cock was well oiled from her cunt, it seemed to abrade and strain her surprised asshole as if it were twice its girth, which was considerable to begin with. She moved on it. Up. Down. Up. Down, a little faster.
The great wedge of hardened, hot flesh shuttling up and down in it turned her rectum hotter and made her whole lower body feel inflated, balloonishly bloated. She felt as if she had to go... and she remembered abruptly the frequent pleasure of that natural function, ever since her childhood. She moved, faster and faster.
More and more her punctured asshole flowered open and faster and faster she thrust it up and down the standing post of his prick.
I am ass fucking myself!
I... I like it... I love assfucking myself!
She jiggled herself on that tall-standing stem of his loins in a passionate, lustful frenzy. Lust overwhelmed her. Her tits flew up and leaped down to bounce and swing, while he fingered the wet lips of her open, empty cunt. She felt his finger tip touch her clitoris, roll it once, twice, three-times! A swift orgasm jolted her.
She sagged gasping only for a moment while her ass gripped his cock and her coming cunt tried to snatch his fingers.
Then up she rose and down she came dropping with a force that splatted her buttocks noisily on his outstretched thighs while she happily, frantically fucked her newly opened asshole on his tall erection. And all the while she felt that nagging-that nice-little need to move her bowels.
Of course, the panting girl thought. My bow-els're stuffed full! Fuller than I've ever been back there. But... I couldn't force anything out of that stuffed hole right now if I wanted to-and I don't!
Deliberately she jerked her hips and shoulders, practically ripping open her rearward hole, her anal cunt, her body's second fuckable hole, while those same movements made her naked, sweat-shining tits bounce more excitingly above him.
The panting gasping groaning girl posted up and down in his lap, fucking her dilated anus and rectum in a happy abandon to sensuality and overwhelming voluptuous pleasure. Gushing succulence came flowing out of her yawning pussy and she bucked her hips in a burgeoning wanton need.
Tightly grabbing ass-cunt ate hungrily away at his upright post of a prick.
When she came again, it was not with his fingers on her cunt, but at her thick nipples. She knew astonishment even as she writhed in the throes of that burning climax-she had taken her own anal cherry, she was fucking her own virginal ass-and she had just experienced a completely anal orgasm!
Seconds later he was shooting semen up her asshole with firehose force and groaning and straining the while.
Naturally she couldn't keep this happening from her best friend-her best female friend. It was six days later, at Lori's house while John and Pete were at a little tent-circus thing with the kids, that Roz let it slip and then was soon excitedly babbling to Lori her news. And it was less than an hour later when she was on her stomach, under which they had thrust a pillow, while Lori shoved a greased vibrator in and out of her fellow bisexual's gaping, happy asshole.