Chapter 1
Moonlight Filtered through the curtains of the McKennas' suburban bedroom caressing Barbara's plump breasts in a see-through blue nightgown. Her nipples swelled, rosy and stiff, against the gossamer fabric.
"Come here!" a male voice growled commandingly from the deeper darkness of the room.
As Barbara approached the bed she half looked forward to, and half dreaded, what was to happen next. Her gaze lit on her husband's service revolver, which he always kept on the nightstand, and she thought giddily:
If he doesn't do me good this time, I ought to shoot him with his own gun!
She bent, breasts swooping in creamy fullness, and lay back the covers. This partially exposed the husky, six-foot-two man, wearing boxer shorts.
Grant McKenna's square face lit up as he gazed at his brunette wife in the dimness. "Hurry up, baby," he said. "I've already got a hard-on."
Barbara slid into bed beside him, and he wrapped her in a bear-like embrace. His cock stuck straight up between them, warm from the blood that filled its tissues and hard as a bar of iron.
I need that stiff, wicked thing! Barbara thought. How I wish he would stroke it up and down inside me all night long! But I hope he doesn't stick it in too soon, like he usually does.
Her moist lips were parted as Grant ground his hard mouth against them. Her tongue slithered between the firm, even ridges of his teeth and lashed the interior of his mouth. He grasped her plump buttocks through her nylon nightie.
Barbara writhed, teasing herself with his hard prick. , He abruptly pulled up her nightgown and tried to roll atop her.
"Grant!" she exclaimed, holding him back. "Play with me a little first."
"Don't have time, baby," he said, pushing her arms down against the mattress and completing his roll so that his knees settled between her splayed thighs. "I've got the early watch tomorrow. Even a sergeant has to take the shifts they hand him."
"But, Grant ...!"
Protests were to no avail as his prick pried apart the folds of his wife's unprepared cunt and hurtfully drove into her, Finding the going abrasively dry. He didn't seem to mind, as long as he achieved connection. Barbara flopped her head from side to side, her facial features contorted in anguish. Her dark hair streamed across the pillow.
Grant stroked inside her, immediately setting up a brisk rhythm.
Oh, God! she screamed in her mind, because she knew she wasn't going to climax with him. She wouldn't even be close.
She was rigid and unresponsive as Grant took her. That didn't seem to bother him. All he cared about, she realized, was obtaining a release for himself.
She clenched her jaws and prayed for it to be over as Grant stroked his rod faster and faster. The clinging membrane of her vagina moistened slightly, but that happened too late to do her any good. It simply made her husband's last strokes slicker as he came, grunting and jerking, his cream spurting into her depths.
She kept her eyes tightly shut and didn't say anything as he climbed off her.
"That was great, honey!" he groaned, and settled into the mattress. In less than a minute, he was snoring.
Barbara bit her lip and stared into the darkness. Her body throbbed. She had endured three years of torture such as her husband had just given her. It wasn't always as bad as this time, though she rarely climaxed. Her last orgasm had occurred more than a month ago, when Grant had been drinking and was slower to come than usual, but even then she'd had to claw for her climax and had barely achieved it.
Her eyes rolled and she writhed between the sheets. Her hand glided guiltily down her body as she spread her legs. She began to fondle the sensitive little lips of her pussy, which were moist with her husband's slippery sperm.
Her mind painted the lurid picture of a handsome blond beachboy with bulging biceps and an eight-inch cock that stuck out and upward from the golden bush at his loins. Barbara watched her hand curl around his turgid member and she imagined she could feel the hot blood pulsating in it.
She stroked his foreskin up and down on his pole, then dropped to her knees in front of him and did something which shocked her even as she thrilled. The stud eased her over onto the sand, and it was his turn to pay oral homage to her voluptuous body.
He did so with relish, kissing and licking every curved inch of her from top to bottom, front and back. He began taking her from the backside, as she secretly had wished Grant would do, then flipped her over and kept screwing.
Barbara's fingers were wickedly diddling her clit, rolling the hard nubbin between the clammy folds of flesh that sheltered it, as all the nerves in her body tightened. Her other hand rolled her breasts through her nightie, stimulating her stiff nipples.
Ooh, fuck me ... FUCK MEEEEE! she silently goaded her dream-lover, thinking a word that she had never uttered.
The stud was tireless as he stroked his thrilling prick inside her, filling her with thrust after thrust of his turgid hardness. One giddy image after another flashed through her fevered mind. She saw herself up and down, over and back, writhing, pumping, and getting fucked gloriously.
She gasped and came as she pinched her hot clit. It was a shallow orgasm, which produced more guilt than satisfaction, but at least she would be able to sleep.
"Hi, Barb," her sister said the next morning as she strolled casually into Barbara's bedroom while the latter was fastening a garter. Joan, as usual, had entered the house without ringing the bell.
Barbara straightened with a start, her buttocks quivering in her thin panties. "Ooh, you scared me!" she exclaimed.
The short-haired, silvery blonde laughed. "Well, keep your door locked if you're so easily frightened. That's not a bad idea anyway, with all the nuts and perverts that are prowling around."
"I know it," Barbara admitted, bending slightly to complete gartering her right nylon. "Grant's always scolding me because I don't lock the door."
"Still wearing those old-fashioned things, hm?" Joan remarked, taking a cigarette out of her handbag.
"What-my nylons?" Barbara asked, blinking her wide brown eyes.
"Yeah. Pantyhose are sleeker."
"And hotter and more expensive," Barbara said. "Anyway, they say stockings and garters are coming back. Some men like them, you know."
She eyed the back of her leg, straightening her gartered stocking. The posture caused her opposite buttock to bulge against the pale-pink nylon that spanned it and its twin.
"Don't tell me Grant is a garter freak!" Joan said, and blew cigarette smoke.
"Grant? Ooh, no! He couldn't care less."
"Sounds like my Howie! You know, yesterday I walked through the living room, stark naked, while he was watching a football game, and do you know what the louse said? Fourth and four, and they're gonna go for it!"
Barbara chuckled, and sat to put on her left nylon.
"It isn't funny!" Joan exclaimed. "I've got half a mind to give him some of his own medicine. You know what he does at that service station of his, don't you?"
"Ooh, Joan, don't start that again!" Barbara chided as she drew the sand-colored nylon up her tapering, creamy-smooth leg.
"Well, it's true! He's after every woman who drives in there. I've overheard the whispers. They come in for gas, and he gives 'em a grease job-right there in his place! He doesn't care that it makes me a laughing stock. One of these days I'm going to seduce some guy just for the hell of it!"
"Joan! You belong to the church, just like I do."
"So what?" Joan was seated on a boudoir chair, her legs crossed, puffing on her cigarette.
"Our religion demands a certain way of life."
Joan was studying her sister as the latter completed gartering her second nylon. "You know, you've got a very sexy ass."
Barbara blushed and faced her. "Don't talk like that!"
"It's true. And your boobs are great, besides.
Grant's a lucky guy."
"Tell him, why don't you?"
"Say, are you and he having trouble?"
"Ooh, no. Not really."
Barbara walked to the closet to fetch a dress, her bottom wiggling in her silky briefs.
"I always considered Grant handsome," Joan said. "Well, you know-I've said it often enough. So if you ever get tired of him...."
"Forget it!" Barbara snapped, and wriggled a dark dress down her curvy form.
"Well, if I didn't have three kids, I think I'd ditch Howie. Hey, when are you and Grant going to start on a family? You're twenty-seven, you know."
"Don't remind me!"
"And Grant is ... thirty-four, isn't he? I should think he would want to be a daddy by now."
"Maybe we can't have children," Barbara said, turning to the mirror to work on her shoulderlength dark hair.
"No shit?" Joan leaned forward. "You never told me there was a problem."
"I haven't told you lots of things," Barbara replied cryptically. "And don't say shit. I hate that word!"
"Ever the little prude, aren't you?" Joan glanced at her watch. "Hey, we're going to be late for the meeting if you don't hurry up. This is an important day, too. I hear Bertha has latched onto some guy from out of town who's going to handle our charity drive. He's an expert at fund-raising, they tell me."
"How come you hear everything, and I don't?" Barbara asked, applying lipstick to her pouty, small mouth.
"Because I get around." The slender woman with the bleached hair paused, then added with a tinge of resentment, "But not as much as I'd like to. I wonder what this out-of-towner looks like."
"Joan!" her sister chided, and snapped her purse shut. She ran her hands over her warmly rounded hips and asked, "Do you think I can get along without a slip under this dress? It's dark enough, hm?"
"I can't see through it. But what's the difference? It doesn't hurt to show off a little. You'll notice I didn't put on a bra."
"Yes, I can see the imprint of your nipples. Honestly, Joan-that's indecent!"
"Well, maybe, the new guy digs tits."
Barbara flushed. "For Howie's sake, I hope he doesn't. Let's go."
The meeting of the church social club was one of their more formal get-togethers, held in the basement of the church building itself. The news that a recent arrival in the community who was going to be introduced had produced a large turnout. One of Joan's friends had saved two seats in the front row for Barbara and her, which they reached just before Big Bertha, as she was called behind her back, brought the meeting to order.
"Ladies ... today I have a most pleasant surprise for you!" The overstuffed chairlady, who was the wife of a local banker, gushed.
Joan studied the "pleasant surprise" who sat on the platform to Bertha's right, and a glint lit her greenish eyes. Barbara took him in also, her brown eyes wider and child-like, despite her twenty-seven years. She had to admit that the man was very handsome.
The thought that he might serve as a model for one of her masturbatory fantasies caused her to wriggle her bottom on the hard chair. Embarrassed, she blushed.
Tony Delbridge was studying her face. Then he looked at her legs, which were crossed. Her slight wriggling had caused her skirt to pull back, and the merest sliver of pale flesh showed above the stocking on her slanted thigh.
Good stuff! Delbridge thought. I'd like to lick that sweet leg.
Bertha introduced him, and a bulge showed at the crotch of his trim slacks as he stepped to the podium. Barbara was shocked at first, thinking he had a partial erection. But she concluded that he probably only possessed a very large cock and balls.
What's the MATTER with you? an inner voice scolded. How can you possibly be interested in his cock? You're a married woman!
Delbridge, who was dark-complexioned and personable, spoke smoothly about his experiences at fund-raising. He mentioned that he was a TV newsman in the last town where he had lived and was awaiting a similar job in the nearby city. He referred to his contacts in television and among newspaper people.
"I can get you some good area-wide publicity for your charity drive," he confidently predicted.
The small-town group applauded enthusiastically.
Delbridge went on to outline his plans for a bazaar and raffle. His eyes kept returning to Barbara as he talked, and she became more and more nervous. A tiny seepage occurred along the warm, velvety lips of her cunt, which heightened the color in her cheeks.
Why am I getting so turned on? she wondered desperately. It's as if I wanted to be screwed!
Joan, noting Delbridge's interest in her sister, glanced enviously at Barbara.
The man's short talk ended, and a motion was immediately made and passed, appointing him to head up the charity drive.
"I'm sure all you ladies would like to meet Mrs. Delbridge," Bertha simpered, and gestured toward the audience.
A slim, red-haired woman rose and nodded, without smiling.
"Ooh shit, he's married!" Joan whispered regretfully to her sister.
The Delbridges seemed like an improbable pair to Barbara. He had perfectly proportioned features, and was obviously well built, while she was broomstick-slim and had a hatchet face. She also was older than he. Delbridge couldn't have been more than twenty-eight, while his wife had to be in her thirties-perhaps pushing thirty-five.
"Now we're going to adjourn the meeting," Bertha said, "and Mr. Delbridge will select a lady to assist him with the preliminary arrangements. Don't all rush the rostrum at once, girls!"
No one had a chance to offer herself, because Delbridge immediately stepped off the stand and walked directly to Barbara. She could have dropped through the floor.
"Hi," he said, his eyes glowing warmly, and he reached down to take her hand. She stood uncertainly while Joan gaped. "I'm Tony, and you're...?"
"Uuh ... Barbara ... Barbara McKenna."
"Well, Barbara, I want you to be my special assistant. I've been watching you, and I noted a keen interest in what we've been discussing. Let's find ourselves a private nook where we can talk. I understand there's a room behind the platform."
Barbara glanced helplessly at her sister as the man led her away. Joan was glaring daggers. Tony ushered his new assistant into the back room, watching the sensuous undulation of her buttocks in her clingy skirt.
He thought about holding her lovely asscheeks apart while he chose which of her two enticing holes he would invade with his dick.
Barbara could feel his eyes on her, and she became distressingly excited. Something was happening that dismayed her. It had been a long while since she had met a man who came on like Tony, and it was occurring at a time in her life when she was vulnerable.
He guided her to a chair in the small conference room and drew a chair up in front of hers. She crossed her legs, trying to be nonchalant, and her skirt slipped back from her delicately contoured knees.
Tony reached and took her hand, sending a shock wave rolling through her.
"You're trembling!" he said, gazing into her eyes. "Hey, we can't have that. You know, even though we're in church, I'm going to suggest that you come with me some place where we can have a drink. I always do my best planning in a relaxed atmosphere-don't you?"
"Well, I ... I...." Barbara couldn't seem to gather her wits. It was as if a stiff wind were propelling her along, carrying her she knew not where.
"Come on-we'll sneak out the back door."
"Wait!" Barbara said breathlessly. "We shouldn't do that. I mean...."
Tony's smile taunted her. "Are you afraid of me?"
She felt like saying, Yes, I am! I'm afraid you're going to get me down and stick your big cock into me!
Then she was ashamed, and she realized he would consider her a small-town ninny if she refused to leave the church with him. City people, especially those in TV, were casual and sophisticated about having drinks together and the like.
"Of course I'm not afraid of you," Barbara said.
"Then, let's go."
Again Barbara felt the handsome man watching her twisty rear as she left the building in front of him. He guided her to his car on the church's parking lot.
He held the door for her and watched as she sat and swung her legs around. Her skirt skidded back, revealing the nylon-clad sleekness of her thighs and two narrow strips of creamy skin above her gartered stockingtops. She quickly jerked her skirt down.
"I know what we'll do," Tony said in his smooth, confident manner as he slipped behind the wheel. "My motel's right near here, and I've got some good booze. We can work there, and we won't be disturbed."
"Your m-motel?" Barbara stammered.
"Of course. Businessmen hold interviews in hotel and motel rooms all the time. Of course, if you don't believe you can trust me...."
I met him in church! Barbara thought. We're working on church business. I'd be a silly goose to think he might try to rape me.
"All right, let's go to your motel," she said, holding her cute chin erect.
Tony grinned at her and thought, She's going to be one of the juiciest fucks I've ever had!