Chapter 1
Shelly Wymore was not stricken by a siege of conscience as she removed the remainder of her clothing in front of the man who sat on the bed across from her. She should have been. Her husband, Tom, would have been crushed had he known what she was up to. In fact, what she had been up to almost since they had been married. He was not aware simply because he was a trusting soul who never suspected that some very deep emotions-passionate emotions-ran through the woman he had looked on as the epitome of womanhood. He did not know what fires raged through Shelly, what erotic fantasies raced through her lovely head whenever she was near a man whom she found attractive.
At home, Shelly was conservative. She did not undress in front of him, nor did she parade around the house in scanty attire. She spoke softly. She shunned the use of vulgar words or terms, even if their use sometimes would have been more applicable to a situation.
But there were fires raging under the surface that he did not see. There were glistening eyes for which he could find no reason, slight tremors of her beautiful body that to him meant only that possibly his beloved Shelly has suffered a momentary chill. That he was extremely naive was the only explanation. Or, he was so in love with Shelly that he failed to recognize anything else in her except a return of the love he held for her.
Now she stood in front of another man. The soft glow from the single bedside lamp out-lined her pink body as she slowly straightened from having slipped her panties off her ankles. She leaned against the dresser, arms straight at her sides, and smiled the same seductive smile that had captivated Ronald Henning only hours before, when he had come to her house to discuss some business matters with Tom, who was out of town. And, though apprehensive at first, Ron had come to bed with her and been pleased beyond his wildest expectations. Now, propped up on both elbows, he watched her with eagerness as she coiled and writhed in a shameless display of seductiveness. What he had enjoyed earlier was nothing to what she would give him now.
They were both naked, a naked morality that ignored common sense. A pleasant, yet disturbing situation for Ron, for he, too, was married. And, although he had not intended to fall prey to Shelly's wanton desires, nor to any other woman's, for that matter, he had never encountered anyone quite as insatiably determined as Shelly before.
Hypnotically, Ron watched, letting his eyes caress the beauty of her curvaceous figure, admiring the female form, devouring, inch by inch, each enticing feature. The two delicate, small breasts, the gently sloping curves of her hips were to Ron the ultimate of the female body. Not too fat, or too lean, not tall or short, Shelly was a woman and she used every inch of her anatomy to prove it.
"Beautiful!" he said as he looked longingly at her. He waved a limp hand toward her and swept his eyes over her skin from head to foot, then back again.
"You like me this way?" she asked impishly. She leaned back slightly and pushed her brave little breasts forward.
"You know I do."
She looked away but her demure smile remained.
He wanted to remember this night, store away in his memory the way Shelly looked as she stood across the room from him, for it would be a long time, if ever, before he would again see the perfection of a woman like Shelly.
He had had her. Earlier that evening the sex for both of them had been fulfilled. It had been rushed, though, impassioned, as the first time usually is. Once completed, they had relaxed until Shelly again demanded of Ron what he was more than willing to give her.
Ron had lain in bed while Shelly showered, smoking and hating himself, yet feeling helpless under her spell. He wanted to be here and he didn't want to be here. It was maddening. How could he, Ronald Henning, prominent attorney with a lovely wife and two children, let himself get involved in something like this, he wondered. But then, when he looked at her and felt the twitch in his groin, he knew he could not control himself. He saw only Shelly and the pleasure she could give.
Although Ron knew Tom Wymore, he had never met Shelly before. When he had come to her home he had fully expected to talk with Tom about business, then go home. But tonight had been something different. Suddenly, his life had taken such a turn that he found himself feeling giddy, even silly, and it had all been because of the wanton seductiveness of Shelly.
Their meeting, accidental as it was, turned out to be something quite different. Shelly had seen to that. It was no accident that Ron found himself in Shelly's bed. So cleverly had she handled him that he had the feeling he had seduced her. In fact, he felt almost sorry for having done such a thing.
Shelly had selected her prey well. Ron was every inch the man that any woman would be more than happy to have beside her in bed. Tall, virile, handsome in a rugged sort of way and a hairline that had receded very little in forty-two years. These features had whetted the sexual appetite of Shelly.
The sight of Ron's hands had sent little shivers running through Shelly and she had made up her mind that these very same hands would caress and stroke her body, handle her and excite her. Not tomorrow or some vague time in the future, either, for Shelly demanded that her sexual craving be satisfied tonight. She couldn't stand the thought of letting those wonderfully strong male hands get away to fondle some other woman. They and the man that went with them must be hers-tonight.
She had maneuvered gracefully, shyly, enticing the man beside her, tantalizing him, exciting him with the unmistakable expression of her eagerness for love, the promise of her body in passionate fulfillment. Ron had fallen under her spell quite easily, for Shelly was not only an efficient and deadly temptress, but she was also endowed with all the necessary equipment to make the seduction seem exceedingly simple-a most alluring figure and a beautiful face-attributes of which he was fully aware. And she knew exactly how to make her body perform once she got a man in bed with her, a feat Tom was unaware of.
"Shelly," Ron said, reaching out his arms, "come over here."
Shelly's eyes took on that practiced demure look again and she blushed slightly to complete the effect. Slowly, hips shifting ever so gracefully, she moved toward him. She did not take her eyes from him, for this was the moment she enjoyed most, savoring the look in his eyes that told her she was desired-and winning the game. This was the moment she could prove to herself that she was all woman, desired, wanted, lusted for, the only thing that really mattered to her. Everything else faded into the background. In horror, she often thought, if she could no longer excite a man then there would be no use in living, for what good was her beautiful body if men-many men-no longer found it appealing or exciting?
Ron was seated on the edge of the bed and Shelly was walking toward him, her arms still straight at her sides as though she were going to some kind of religious sacrifice. She stood there, calmly waiting for Ron's strong arms to snake around her buttocks, waiting to feel those wonderfully masculine hands paw gently at her hips and feel his head press against her breasts.
"OOH, BABY, YOU DRIVE ME WILD!" she heard him say with pleasure, just as she had expected his comment would be.
Then her hands pressed against his head, pulled it upward slightly so the nipple of one of her breasts was against his cheek, lying like a burning ember against the tanned flesh.
"Darling!" she whispered urgently. "Take me, lover!" She leaned forward and pressed the warm palms of her hands against his shoulders, kneading the flesh in her frenzy. His arms tightened around her while his lips burned hot against her breasts. They clung to each other for a long time and then finally Ron pulled her on top of him as he fell backward on the bed.
After a while he moved his mouth over to hers, then down to one of her breasts, lifting it gently in his warm palm and running his tongue around the firm nipple. Shelly gasped. He bit her lightly and she gasped once more and pushed forward, smothering his face in the torrid firmness. He opened his mouth wide and plunged the breast deep inside, his mouth engulfing almost the entire breast. He moved his head back and forth, side to side, so his mouth moved repeatedly over the entire surface from the nipple to the joining with the body and shook the breast as he moved. His tongue licked the tender surface, lapped across the nipple hungrily. Then he nibbled at it with his teeth, nipping at the rubbery bud so that she squirmed and writhed under him.
Now Shelly began to moan aloud; her hands moved restlessly and unceasingly over his strong body. Suddenly she gasped, for Ron had moved away from the wet nipple and his lips now trailed down her stomach, his tongue darting in and out rapidly, urgently, seeking. His kisses now turned fierce, a harsh, tasting pressure of the mouth rather than a light probing, caressing movement of the lips. He kissed her lower stomach and belly with a ranging thoroughness that did not let him miss an inch of the loveliness spread out before him. His mouth held and bit at the flesh gently, then moved quickly to another spot. He paused at her navel, ran his tongue deep into the tiny crevice and tickled it with the tip. Then, with a quick motion, he surged lower and nipped her gently between the thighs.
Shelly gasped, clutched at his hair, tugging gently to pull him away at first, then pushing him back gently, spreading her legs even wider. This was no new experience for her. She had gone down on men and had made them reciprocate, and many times, when her lips were bruised and puffed from the hungry sucking she had given a man, she was forced to explain to her husband that her gums were acting up again. She had never given Tom the pleasure of going down on him, nor did she ever indicate that he should do the same to her. Her sex life with her husband had been one of total normalcy. He was of the old school of one-position, one-way sex and it had just never dawned on him that there were other ways to enjoy sex.
But she didn't have time to think of the whys and wherefores of sex and the lack of it with her husband. This man had aroused her to heights which electrified and numbed her brain.
Shelly moved her legs swiftly and eagerly, writhing under the minute probings of Ron's darting tongue. She pushed a little harder on the back of his head and raised her hips at the same time.
"KISS ME, DARLING," she hissed. "KISS MY NICE PUSSY ... PLEASE ... DARLING...."
He was kissing the inside of her thighs now, one hand spreading her legs apart while the other circled around the cheeks of her ass, kneading the flesh, pulling her toward him, then thrusting her away. He moved to her knees, kissing their dimpled sheen. He went to her lower legs, and he did not stop when he came to Shelly's tiny feet. He kissed the slim ankle and then each toe. He lifted Shelly's foot a little and kissed the surface of each sole.
He had slid from the bed and sat on the floor, holding her feet for a moment more. Then, with a swift, strong movement, he caught hold of her body and lifted her over so she lay on her stomach. Then he raised himself and lay flat against her and even with her, his middle resting against her slowly moving ass, and lay for a moment, working his body against hers. She was gasping and panting, trying to reach around to caress him.
"I-I WANT YOU TO ... TO PUT YOUR TONGUE IN ME," she whispered hoarsely.
"Just relax, sweetheart," he murmured. "I want to make love to you my way."
"OOOHHHH, DARLING ... !" she groaned.
He kissed her hair, stroking the shining length of it with his hand as he did so. He moved the hair away from her body and began to kiss her back, her shoulders, her sides, and continued kissing her all the way down-when he reached Shelly's twisting, churning buttocks, he paused.
Again he teased her a little, letting his mouth barely touch the smooth skin. After a while, he increased the pressure. Then he began to nip at the rounded flesh, more and more sharply. When Shelly finally cried out in pain, he took his mouth away and continued his progress down her long legs, kissing the tender underside. And, when he was down at her feet once more, he turned her over again, and finally he put his lips against her belly once more.
Now the movements of Shelly's body were frenzied and completely wild. The last fragment of her composure slipped away. She twisted and turned frantically on the bed, her ass wiggling, her middle bucking up and down. Ron's head moved frantically, too, savoring Shelly's loveliness and making more and more violent love to her. Her nails bit deeply into his skin, and they both moaned aloud together.
Shelly pulled her body away from his grasp and twisted around so that her lips, too, were probing and making love. Now they were caressing each other and twisting and wiggling in wild abandonment. Their bliss mounted and heightened and reached its shattering peak. His face was buried between her creamy thighs. His slithering tongue was probing into the soft hair, searching for the opening to her wanton cunt. Then he found the vaginal opening and ran his wetly warm tongue into the soft, moist membranes of her hotly throbbing pussy. He plunged in and out rapidly and hungrily, snorting his hot breath into the steaming crevice, clutching at the flesh of her resilient asscheeks as he "brought her sweet offering to his mouth.
Shelly bit gently into his firm flesh, then fell away as she gave herself completely to getting herself licked. She moved her hips up to him gently, moving in a fuck rhythm that caused her to pant loudly. She spread her legs as far apart as they would go to allow his hot tongue to devour her pussy.
Gently he put his fingers on the wet lips of her pussy and lewdly pried them apart. In the dim light, he could see the glistening reddish-brown membranes of her shadowy cuntal depths. He flattened his tongue and lapped across the puffed-up lips. He ran the tip of it up one lip, then down the other in a teasing movement that made her shudder uncontrollably. He formed his tongue into a tube and ran it into her as far as it would go, then withdrew it slowly. He found her clitoris and laved it with the tip of his probing tongue. There was a sweet, delicate aroma to her and the smell of her cunt excited him even more.
As his lapping between her legs increased, so did her motions and her gasping. She was thrusting her crotch up to him urgently now as his tongue worked on her clitoris.
"OH, GOD, YESSS!" she hissed. "OH, GOD, LICK MY CUNT, LOVER! LICK IT! OOHHH, YES-SSSSS...."
Then her body suddenly hung in mid-air as the tension of her climax held her immobile for a moment. When she descended, she did so in a shuddering, gasping movement that made not only her body tremble, but the entire bed as well. Then she went into the rhythmic fuck movements forced on her by her orgasm.
Ron held her ass tightly, yet gently, allowing it freedom of movement. He did not lick her pussy, but held his tongue still and let her agitate her excited, dilating pussy against it.
She sank her teeth in her own arm as the spasms racked her. She moaned and writhed on the bed, her head twisting from side to side. A stream of perspiration made a rivulet down her face. Then suddenly, as though a switch had been turned off, she fell away in complete exhaustion, gasping for breath.
Long moments later, Ron pulled himself up beside her, resting on one elbow, looking down into her face. His own face was wet with perspiration and the secretions of her cunt. A haunting aroma of sex held to it.
"Did you like that?" he asked, perhaps not knowing what else to say.
"Oh, yes ... yes!" she gurgled. "Oh, it was so good!"
"I'm glad," he said softly. "I like doing it if the woman does."
"That really drives me crazy."
"I'm going to fuck you now," he said matter-of-factly.
"Yes. I'd like that."
And he did.
Afterward, her voice became only a mumble and, in moments, her breathing became heavy with sleep.
Ron, too, had fallen asleep.
Much later, when Ron opened his eyes, there was a dull glow showing through the lacy white curtains of Shelly's bedroom. He rolled over and turned on the bed lamp and took a quick look at his watch. Then he quickly turned out the light.
"Darling," she whispered, moving closer and pressing her body against his. "Did you enjoy your little visit with me?"
"Yes," he replied, a bit uneasy. He hadn't meant to stay so long. Reality was a brutal thing. Reality was facing his wife and explaining where he had been all night, a rarity in his case. Reality was getting away from Shelly as diplomatically as possible.
"And you're not one bit sorry?" she asked.
"No, of course not. Why should I be?"
"I'm sure you have a wife to explain to," she said. There was a tone in her voice that seemed to bring out the vixen in her. "You're quite a man, you know. If you were mine I'd sure want to know where you were at all times."
"I-I have to go now, Shelly. I didn't mean to stay this long."
"Not right this minute, darling. You can stay a little longer." Her hand crept to his crotch where she fondled his limp cock for a moment. "That's such a nice thing," she cooed. "Can't I have just a little more of it?"
Ron did not answer immediately. His mind was beginning to clear and he was developing a strong hatred inside himself. Not for Shelly, but for himself. How could he explain to his wife where he had spent the night? Never in all his eighteen years of married life had he been away from home without a sound, logical excuse. What would she think? She would be worried sick, for one thing. She may have even called the police. It was five-thirty in the morning and even when he went out with the boys he had never come home much later than midnight. He shuddered when he realized there would be guilt written on his face when he finally had to face her.
"I have to go," he repeated.
"Worried about your wife?" Shelly asked, with that cold, calculating way that she had about her when her prey finally came to his senses and wanted to get away.
"Yes, if you must know, I am," he said. "I can't help it. This thing sort of got out of hand. I didn't mean to...."
"Wouldn't you rather be here with me than home?" she asked. She knew the word "home" would hurt him. That's why she used it.
"Look, Shelly, I've enjoyed being here with you but now I'll have to go. She ... she'll be worried about me."
She smiled. "I'd worry, too, darling, if I had a big, strong man like you, but I'd worry more if you left me so soon. You have plenty of time. Your wife is probably sleeping soundly now so why barge in and wake her? This is no time to be coming home anyway."
"What would you suggest I do?" he asked, sarcasm in his voice. "Stay here with you for the next few days?"
"That would be nice," she purred, "but I know you can't do that. Why don't you tell her you got tied up in something important and took a room downtown? After all, I am important, aren't I?" She snuggled against him and threw one leg across his and slowly let her hands slide down his stomach. Again, she took hold of his cock.
"No, Shelly. Don't do that," he protested.
"Why not? Are you afraid it might get hard if I play with it?"
"I have to go!"
"You don't really want to go."
"No, I'll admit I don't want to but I have to." Almost roughly, he pulled himself free of her and sat on the edge of the bed. He groped for the light and turned it on, then plucked a cigarette from the half-empty pack on the nightstand.
Lighting one, he offered it to Shelly but she only groaned and pushed it gently away. Her head was still buried in the pillow with the rumpled sheet covering her midsection. Ron turned away quickly. Shelly smiled as she watched his discomfiture. She seemed to enjoy watching the battle that was taking place within him.
When he had smoked only half the cigarette, he jammed it into the tray, got up, snatched his shorts from the floor, and walked into the bathroom. After he had taken a quick shower, he came out to find Shelly sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed. He gave her only a casual glance, then went quickly about the job of dressing. He had put the finishing touches to his suit and tugged his tie into place, when he turned to her, smiled sheepishly, and said, "Well, as all good things must come to an end, so must this one."
Shelly returned his smile, then held out her arms.
"Come here, big lover-man. Give me a goodbye kiss."
Dutifully, Ron went to the side of the bed, leaned over and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
"Oh, no, darling. Not like that. Like this!" She leaped to her knees on the bed and crushed her mouth against his. For a long time they clung together, Shelly's fingers kneading the back of his neck, smashing her lips. Then, as though she had suddenly tired of the whole affair, she broke loose and thrust him away. "Now," she said firmly, "you can go!"
For a brief moment, Ron fought with himself, trying to decide whether to undress and stay with her or tear himself away and run for the door. He did neither. Shelly's kiss had been so impassioned that he almost staggered from the effect. He shook his head, smiled wryly, and turned to leave.
In one quick movement, Shelly was out of bed and walked, completely naked, to the bathroom door, where she stopped. "Wait just a minute, dear. I'll let you out." Once in the bathroom, she closed the door, quickly found her lipstick, and smeared the tube lightly over his lips. Then she pawed at her hair, fluffed it a little, put on her bathrobe, and returned to the living room. Ron was standing just inside the door, puffing on another cigarette and looking nervously at his watch.
"One more kiss," she pouted, holding out her arms.
They kissed once again and, when he released her, she let her lips brush over his white shirt collar in a way so he couldn't notice. She let him out, watched him walk down the walk, then softly closed the door. She leaned against the door, tipped her head back, and laughed almost fiendishly. "Now, you big-hung son-of-a-bitch, explain to your little wife where you got the lipstick on your collar!"
With a cruel smile of triumph on her lips, Shelly crawled into the mussed bed and turned out the light. Once again she was satisfied. The satisfaction would not last, however. In a day or two, she would once again sharpen her claws, preen herself, and set out on yet another predatory mission. Tom would be home the following day, but she never gave him consideration when it came to finding sexual fulfillment. What would he think if she demanded something out of the ordinary from him?