Chapter 4
"Babe, when are you coming to bed?" Grant demanded as he appeared in the doorway of the den, a large, hairy-chested figure in blue and white striped shorts.
"In a little while," his wife replied, glancing back at the TV. "I have to see how this movie turns out."
"Yeah? Well, you know I've got to get up early."
He turned and ambled back to the bedroom.
Though Barbara stared at the television, she wasn't thinking about the action movie that flashed across the 24-inch tube. She was wondering desperately why Tony hadn't called in two days. Besides chat, her husband obviously expected sex that night, and the thought of submitting to him was abhorrent.
Tony! she mentally implored. I need you so! I'd give anything to feel your hands on me tonight ... fondling my breasts, stroking my thighs and belly, fingering my slit! I want to feel your lips on my nipples ... your big, stiff cock inside me!
She was making herself hot by merely thinking about what she needed. But she wasn't hot for Grant's brusque, unsatisfactory style of lovemaking.
There was something else about Grant that turned her off, whenever she was close to him, she suffered intensely from guilt. Though he was her husband, she had given herself to another man, and it was the other man that she wanted.
Why hasn't Tony called? she kept asking herself. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. He said he loved me! And the way he fucked me ... God! He made me feel like the most desired woman in the world.
I know I told him that we shouldn't see each other any more. But I didn't really mean that, and he knew it. Oh, how I need him! I'll die if I don't feel his hands and lips ... and his wonderful, huge prick driving into me!
"Barbara, God damn it!" Grant was back, fuming.
"All right ... all right!" she said, and snapped off the TV. "I've, uh, got to take a bath," she added as she followed her husband down the hall.
"Forget that!" he said. "It's late already."
Sure, you wouldn't care if I took a bath or not, because you never kiss my body! she thought spitefully. You don't know that nipples are for sucking. And as for getting your face down between my legs-you probably think that's the filthiest thing imaginable!
I did, too ... before Tony. But now I know how wonderful it can be for a man to kiss and lick my hot pussy-and what a thrill it is to suck a cock, too!
Barbara still glowed with shame as she thought about the shocking things she had done and that Tony had done to her. But her desire for more of the same was even hotter.
"I'll be along in a little bit," she told her husband as she ducked into the bathroom.
Grant had been right, of course, there was no point in her taking a bath. Still, she wanted to stall as long as possible, in the hope that her husband would be asleep by the time she reached their marriage bed.
She removed her blouse and gazed in the mirror at the reflection of her large breasts which bulged over the cups of her lowcut bra. As she had grown up, she had been ashamed of her more than ample mammary development. But since Tony appreciated her breasts so much, she had become proud of them.
She released her bra and let her bountiful orbs bobble free. Standing with her shoulders back and looking at herself from several angles, Barbara had to admit that her tits stuck out nicely, even as full and heavy as they were.
She fingered her rosy nipples, causing them to jut ripely. The sensitive stems throbbed with a need to feel warm, moist lips around them, sucking gently.
Barbara let her outer pants down and stepped from them. This left her in sleek blue panties that clung to her hips like a second skin.
She turned and looked over her shoulder at the reflection of her lush bottom, which had always embarrassed her even more than her outsized breasts. But the way Tony had adored her plump, shapely ass had made it an object of pride, also.
She slowly folded her panties down, watching the filmy nylon surrender its possession of her cheeky curves. She couldn't forget how Tony had kissed her back there.
She bit her lip as her cunt became hotter and hotter. She badly needed sex that night-but not with Grant. Tony was the only man she wanted, she admitted in stark shame.
Stepping out of her panties, she was nude.
As she brushed her teeth, her breasts quivered with the rapid motions of her arm. She washed her face.
When she was ready to go to the bathroom at last, though dreading it, she realized that she didn't have her nightgown. She would have to walk in nude, unless she wished to put her panties back on. That seemed foolish. Grant would have the light out anyway, she assumed.
She walked to the bedroom and found it dark. She tried not to make a sound while putting on her nightie, hoping that her husband had fallen asleep. Approaching the bed, she noted that his eyes were closed as he lay on his back.
She lay back the covers and slid into bed as carefully as possible. Grant didn't move nor make a sound.
Thank God! Barbara thought.
Her most immediate problem had been solved by her procrastination. But that gave rise to another dilemma: How would she quiet the submerged turmoil in her body, which had been intensified by her sexy thoughts?
She didn't want to squirm about, for fear of waking Grant. Still, she had to satisfy herself. She would be careful, she decided, as her right hand glided down her gossamer nightie to her smoldering loins. She gently drew her nightgown up to her waist and stroked her thick pussyfur.
Gradually her fingers glided lower, along her puffy slit, as her thighs inched apart. She was careful not to touch Grant with her leg.
She rubbed her warm, soft pussy up and down, loosening the lips and stimulating them, causing them to fill with blood. Her fingers deftly parted her hair-covered draperies, and she stroked the clammy interior lips of her cunt. They were clammy only in that they were moist; they were far from cold.
A fingertip teased the tiny knob of her clitoris, making it swell and throb. Barbara breathed more excitedly. She wanted to squirm, but didn't dare.
Grant slept on, beside her, as she diddled herself. Her finger intensively rubbed the tip of her clit. She caught her breath. Her excitement mounted. Finally it peaked, and she climaxed, but with immediate disappointment. Her fleeting and shallow orgasm yielded only a small fraction of the gratification she had gained from each climax with Tony. It was a mockery.
Barbara lapsed into torpor, feeling more ashamed and troubled than ever. Before falling asleep she reached a decision: She would cast her pride away and phone Tony the next morning.
Her nerves were taut as she listened to the ringing signal on the phone. There was a click, and a woman's rather harsh voice said, "Hello?"
"Oh. Uuuh ... is Mr. Delbridge there, please? This is Mrs. McKenna. About the charity fund drive?"
"Just a minute," the woman said, and left the line.
His wife! Barbara thought. Does she suspect anything? She sounds like a shrew, just as Tony said. She obviously isn't warm enough to make him happy-not like I did when we were in bed together.
Barbara's mind went on another kaleidoscopic tour of recollection-Tony and her in bed together, kissing, touching, fucking heatedly. Her cheeks brightened, and she became very warm between the legs.
"Mrs. McKenna ... how are you?" Tony said smoothly.
"Tony!" she exclaimed. "I'm ... I'm sorry to call you at home, but ... is it safe to talk?"
"That's all right, Mrs. McKenna," he said with appropriate formality.
"I had to talk with you! Why haven't you called me?"
"Yes ... busy, busy. You know how it is."
"All right. I understand that you can't say anything specific because your wife is there."
Barbara screwed up her courage and went on, though it shamed her, "Can we see each other today?"
"Well, that would be ... a little difficult."
"Please, Tony! Ooh, God...." she murmured, mortified. "Can you call me later, when you're alone?"
"Yes, I'll do that."
"I'll be waiting, darling."
"Good-bye, Mrs. McKenna," he said, and hung up the phone.
Barbara replaced the receiver, trembling. She felt very cheap for having chased after a man-and to no immediate avail, though she had hopes of getting a callback. Still, Tony could have been a bit warmer. He could have given her some word of encouragement. It had been pleasurable, however, just to hear his voice.
Barbara's pussy was damp, merely from the stilted phone conversation.
She waited for the remainder of that day, but Tony didn't call back. Her nerves were beginning to give her fits.
That evening Grant was out of sorts, growling at her and giving her sharp looks. He obviously was wondering why she had been so standoffish. She couldn't get away with that much longer, she realized.
Grant drank after dinner, which was unusual for him. There was a time when Barbara might have appreciated it, because liquor gave him greater resistance to a climax when he screwed her. She might even get there, she thought, if she were to put her mind to it. But as things were, she didn't wish to climax with him. She didn't want him to touch her.
As Grant drank more, his mood became nastier.
"Come on-let's go to bed!" he finally growled, and grasped Barbara by an arm, lifting her out of her chair.
"But I'm not ready to go to bed yet!" she exclaimed resentfully, and jerked free of him. "It's early!"
"Well, if you don't want to go to bed," Grant retorted, unbuttoning his shirt, "we'll do it right here. I want you-and, by God, I'm going to have you!"
Barbara didn't resist. She realized that she didn't have the right, and, even if she were to try, Grant would only become meaner and force her to give in. That would make the situation even worse for them than it already was.
She steeled herself as he pulled her down to the sofa. He kicked his pants off. She unfastened her dress and wriggled out of it, so that she wore only her bra and panties when his knees depressed the couch and he hovered over her.
He sloppily kissed her face and neck, his hands pawing. She squirmed to unfasten her bra and take it away. Grant rolled her tits roughly, stiffening the nipples. But he didn't kiss them. He stripped her silky pants off.
Barbara shut her eyes. She tried to imagine it was Tony who was with her, but that brought more shame and it didn't work. The difference between Tony's lovemaking and Grant's was so drastic that she couldn't entertain the illusion for even a moment.
Grant's prick poked out through the fly of his boxer shorts as he knelt between his wife's thighs. She didn't ask him to go slowly this time-what was the use?
Her cove was moist when he made his move, however. She had been like that all day, from thinking about Tony. Her husband's cock glided smoothly into her, and she felt it throb in her heated clutches.
She experienced a slight throbbing in response, which was simply an automatic reaction, she assured herself.
Grant began stroking briskly right away, in his clumsy, bull-like manner. Barbara was in such dire need that her response grew more quickly than usual. She squirmed, and her features screwed up.
Her ruby lips parted, and she began to pant.
Grant's raging cockhead surged along her vaginal channel, expanding the clutching, slick membrane in rippling waves. Barbara pushed heatedly against him, calling herself a worse slut than ever. She had convinced herself that she loved Tony, and had been waiting eagerly for his call, yet here she was fucking her husband as if he was the man she still loved and wanted.
Maybe she did love Grant, she thought, in spite of his short-comings. Perhaps she was only infatuated with Tony.
She clutched the beefy, barrel-chested man who was atop her and bobbed her buttocks in the soft sofa cushion. Her clit and all the nerve ends in her pussy's mouth were stropped by his fast-stroking rod.
I'm going to get there! she thought with something like amazement.
But Grant didn't last quite long enough. Just as Barbara was about to reach her climax, he exploded inside her, spurting warm cream into the pit of her pussy.
"Oooh, noooooooh!" she moaned bitterly.
"What's the matter?" Grant pushed up to look her in the face as soon as he had finished ejaculating.
"Nothing!" she said, and bit her lip. She hated Grant ... and herself, as well.
The ladies of the church social club got together the following day at a member's home. Barbara went alone, since Joan wasn't at home when Barbara had telephoned her. She wasn't at the meeting, either.
Barbara looked around for Tony, but he didn't seem to be there. There was no reason why he should be, she decided, since he wasn't due to report yet on the charity drive arrangements. How could he report anything when she was his chief assistant, and they hadn't even formed their basic plans?
The question of why he hadn't called her gnawed tormentingly. She hadn't gotten up the courage to call him again.
"Hello, Edith," she said to the slender young wife whom she sat beside.
"Hello," the blonde responded, and quickly looked down. She fidgeted nervously.
What's the matter with her? Barbara wondered.
Across the room, normally quiet Nell Walters was laughing and conversing animatedly with Bertha Morehouse. Nell acted as if she had come just into an inheritance or something.
"Well, how have things been going with you?" Barbara asked the pretty woman who sat beside her.
"Ooh, all right." Edith gave a wan smile, then quickly averted her eyes again. She didn't give the impression of wanting to avoid Barbara, but rather that she was troubled by something else. Her white hands twisted tensely.
Barbara was mystified.
The meeting was duller than usual, and the tea which followed was hardly more entertaining. Tony was in Barbara's thoughts constantly, and she kept glancing about, hoping that he might appear. He didn't.
Barbara drove home, her troubles nagging. She pressed her warm thighs together and squirmed behind the wheel, deliberately stimulating her clit. The hard nubbin throbbed, and her pussy moistened.
I'll have to play with myself as soon as I get home! she thought with dismay.
But that wasn't to be. Barbara had no sooner entered the house before Joan came bounding in. The latter was radiant.
"I did it, kid!" she exclaimed, embracing her sister. "Ooh God, I really did it! And it was wonderfull"
"For heaven's sake, what are you babbling about?" Barbara asked.
Joan looked at her levelly. "I seduced a man!"
Barbara's lower jaw dropped.
"I can't tell you who, of course, though I'd love to!" Joan chirped, and whirled happily in the center of the room. "He's married, and it would cause a terrible scandal if the word got out."
Barbara knew how her sister felt. Her empathy was mingled with envy, because her own affair with Tony had gone on the rocks.
"God, what a man he is!" Joan confided. "He's got-ooh, Barbara, such a beautiful, big, hard prick!"
"Joan!" Her sister blushed.
"And does he know how to use it!" the platinum blonde gushed. "Wow, I came and came! And he didn't just fuck me. Honey, he used his mouth better than Howie ever did ... and, oh God, I went oral with him, too! I couldn't help myself."
Barbara was flabbergasted to hear such a startlingly frank confession from her sister.
"Hey, listen ... I want to apologize to you for something," Joan went on.
"What's that?"
"Getting pissed off because you went somewhere with Tony the other day. I realize now that it didn't mean a thing."
Barbara stared at her. Why had Joan mentioned Tony in practically the same breath with the man she had seduced, unless...?
The suspicion was almost too painful to contemplate, but Barbara couldn't rid herself of it. The way Joan had described her new lover fitted Tony to a T.
"Was it him, Joan?" the anguished woman blurted.
"I told you, I can't say," Joan replied. But the wicked sparkle in her eyes gave an answer more eloquent than words.
Barbara felt crushed.