Chapter 1
The bitch was a female tiger. Panting, gasping, squeezing Gary's tool between tight, demanding thighs she scratched his back, raking fingernails across and gathering tiny curls of his skin beneath them while her sharp little teeth bit into his lip.
His thrust was strong, violent, needful. Driving into her again and again, faster, determined to hurt her as she was hurting him and thrilling from the effort, he suddenly melted his belly against hers and his whole being shuddered as she opened her mouth in a low ecstatic moan and hot streams of passion spurted from his body into hers.
Gary was a big man, massive-shouldered and tall. Mildred was petite, a close-cropped, fragrant head of hair now somewhere around his nipples as his body lost its hump and straining arm muscles relaxed, but not quite enough to crush her.
Then, with the massiveness of a just-felled oak, he dropped over on his side, pulling her sidewise with him so that the juncture of their passion-wracked bodies need not separate quite yet.
Tenderly his hand brushed the fluffy bangs back from her exqusiite forehead and his lips touched her there while her hand lightly toyed with his nipple.
Slowly the torrent in him subsided. His body relaxed. He reached back to the night table and caught two of the tiny hand towels he'd always used with Emily, knowing almost by touch which had "Guest" embroidered on it.
He caught his moist and dripping weapon in one, then gently opened the guest towel and, with his whole palm behind it, smoothed it lightly into place. Somehow it seemed urgent to him that the sheets he shared normally with Emily not have any of the stiff little spots on them that they gathered when I had mated with her.
Mildred seemed tinier than ever as she curled up in the nest between his left arm and his body and half-bent legs. She purred contentedly and soon the purring became regular, light breathing.
How fragrant she was! Now his back began to tingle slightly and he felt a single tiny trickle of blood running down it from a particularly deep scratch. "So I don't get any semen on the sheet but get blood there. That's a swtich," Gary thought.
Silence took over their apartment then. Even the familiar street traffic noises seemed to subside.
But then he heard them. He heard the sound of that one damned spring that squeaked.
How well Gary remembered that spring! His mother-in-law had come to visit and Emily, over his bitter protests, had insisted that she get their comfortable king-sized bed while they occupy the guest bed, an ordinary double bed that Emily had brought back when her mother moved to the smaller apartment.
"Please, darling. It's just for ten days. Won't you do it, just for me?" she had coaxed, letting her fingers walk up to the side of his face and then pinching his earlobes in a way she knew turned him on.
"Well," he'd replied, his need for her stirring, "okay, but just for this one visit "
Well, it hadn't been for just that one visit. After that, whenever she came visiting, she had automatically taken over their room and Gary had cursed himself for his gutlessness in not putting a stop to it.
That wasn't all, though. When Gary's hand had upped Emily's strangely cone-shaped breast that first night and he stirred so they could be in their favorite position, each on a side, facing, his right hand free to toy with her clitoris as he thrust into her and her left hand working the side of his face pinching his earlobe
-that's when he first heard the springs.
Emily had stiffened and withdrawn from him. "Mother will hear and she'll know," Emily had hissed.
"So?" Gary said, anger coarsening his voice, "Did she think you were still a virgin?"
"But to actually hear this sound. To know that we're in the bed she had shared with father," Emily said, her face white and strained. "I'd be ashamed to have breakfast with her in the morning. Let's just not do it while she's here and I'll make it up to you after she's gone. Honest I will, Gary."
Almost three hours he lay there, his fingers laced behind his head, thinking darkly about that thing that Emily was doing to him. "Hell," he thought, "sex doesn't mean anything to her but that she's accommodating me. That's all So she puts her mother's prudishness over her own husband's happiness."
If Emily suspected that he was awake or the darkness that lay within him, she gave no sign of it. She always slept with her breath coming sweetly and lightly and she breathed much that same way when she was awake.
If in her sleep she stirred and touched him during her mother's visit, Gary withdrew from her as though she were hot or contaminated.
On the fourth day of his mother-in-law's visit, Gary had brooded long enough to start action. It was one of those cheap tabloid newspapers that sell for from 15 cents to 35 cents on the newsstands that triggered An ad read "modern couple, looking for attractive young singles or couples for friendship, interests include photography, wrestling. Send pictures with first letter. Reply guaranteed."
He'd replied. It was clumsily worded. "My wife doesn't know about this, but perhaps she would be interested if you were really attractive people. I'm a pretty fair stud. The pictures and wrestling are okay with me! I'm a big guy and take good shots and I can whip most men and all women. But I'm hopeful that these are just the preliminaries to some real action."
Almost immediately a blue envelope marked "Personal" arrived. The people in the picture were older than Emily and Gary. The husband was a baldish man with big, square teeth and a face that always seemed to be grinning, though the eyes were shrewd. The woman was a blonde with her hair in a smart flip. Her artificial lashes were sexy looking and she was ample-breasted and full-hipped with a narrow waist. She could still be this side of forty, perhaps, but not much. Yet it was the picture of this woman, the promise in her eyes, something about a knowing, sure-of-herself quality in her pose that caught his fancy.
She had written the letter. Her husband hadn't even seen the reply, but this was the picture they sent out in response to their ad and it was an honest picture, she wrote. She'd leave it up to Gary to make the next move. If he called before six any afternoon, her husband needn't know about it. If he called in the evening, the husband would know and she would merely have forgotten to mention Gary's letter.
He was still seething from the mornings doings when Emily's mother had insisted that Emily be permitted to sleep late and she would fix Gary's breakfast. The limp bacon, weak coffee, runny fried eggs and almost dark brown toast were all proclamations of ignorance, not caring and hostility to Gary.
Stiffly he thanked his mother-in-law for the delicious breakfast and then picked up a day-old newspaper from the stand in his annoyance at her!
"Hello, Mrs. Taylor," Gary said into the phone in his deepest sexy-salesman voice, "Gary Worthington here. I just saw your picture and read your note and had to call. Lunch and cocktails okay?"
Lorna Taylor had been honest. Though the picture didn't reveal the tiny moist-wrinkles around the eyes and the mouth nor the slight sagging of the chinline, everything else was as represented. She was obviously a woman of wealth and beauty whose appetites were healthy and whose circumstances and her own boldness let her satisfy them. At their meeting place, she looked at Gary's broad shoulders and impressive height, his snub-nose, square jaw and gray-touched crew cut approvingly. "Kind of a dated hair style, there," she had told him, "and you look like a square trying to round out his corners, but you sure seem the sort who can cut the mustard. Let's not waste time."
They gulped down their single drinks and she was tugging on his hand. "Your wheels where they're okay?" she asked.
"On a lot," Gary told her.
"Come with me then," she insisted.
Grinning, he followed her, delighting in the positive way of her, as contrasted with Emily's 'whatever you say, dear, so long as it's okay with mother,' attitude.
The car was low, sleek and fast. The apartment was smart and efficient. The body was well-trained, shapely, younger than the face. And Lorna Taylor knew how to survey her quarry quickly. She found Gary's ear almost at once. She found, too, that he had a sensitive rectum, responsive to her touch, that she could give him a towering erection in seconds. Then her task was merely one of attaining her own satisfaction before he expended his capacity to gratify it.
That was their only meeting. Gary tried a dozen times afterward, whenever Emily's mother came calling, but at first Lorna evaded him, then refused him bluntly, then she no longer had that same phone number.
But Gary had cheated on Emily for the first time. After that promiscuity came more easily.
Now he was hearing his wife and another man and a squeaky bedspring. The beauty beside him, the trickle that flowed from his tip, the knowledge that it had all been pre-arranged by mutual consent of all concerned-he knew these facts, of course. But that bedspring seemed to drown out the awareness.
"Noisy, aren't they?" Mildred's little voice half-whispered.
Gary seemed startled that she was there and she sensed that his mind had been with his wife in the other bedroom.
"Been on the swapping circuit for long?" Gary asked.
"This isn't my first time, if that's what you mean." Mildred said, rising on an elbow and studying his face. "But I find myself bothered by that queston. Somehow it seems dumber than you seem to be. Let me study you some more."
Unaccountably, Gary felt uncomfortable under the grave gaze of the beautiful little brunette. His face reddened. What right did a little slut like this have to take psychological control like this? He'd just have to show her that men were the in-charge-here group and women took orders. That's what. He'd rape this beautiful little bitch right after their mating while her chalice lips were still wet from him and the recuperative sleep was still in her eyes.
He rolled over atop her, felt her hot, eager hands grabbing for his rod, holding it, working its tip like an automatic teat puller on a milking machine. He wanted to rape her and she was helping him. Helping him hold its hardness, helping him guide his muscle into her orifice.
Her legs wrapped around him, still in the silk stockings with the interesting pattern he'd hoped-successfully-wouldn't turn out to be panty hose. She was encircling him like a slender vine does a tree and she had him now, had him in her, hot and hungry. She rode him like a koala bear hangs from a branch of a eucalyptus tree, then as a sloth, then up again, tight and hugging and taking him into her, every damned fraction of an inch of the way.
He was the bronco and she rode it from underneath. As he sunfished and reared up, drove down, thrust and tried to withdraw, she rode him until he could stand it no longer. He had to unload his charge into her and she timed her release perfectly to respond to him that very second
"With training. Gary, you could become a great lover," Mildred's little voice said "If only you managed to hold onto your health."
Now he slept and she slept beside him. When he awoke, it was to find her on her elbows still staring into his face. The sound of the bedspring was continuing and Gary found himself hoping that the noise was inhibiting Emily and that bastard he'd let them euchre him into going to bed with her.
But even as the thought coursed through his mind, he recognized the unfairness of it. After all, hadn't he just taken Mildred for the second time? Or had Mildred taken him?
She was studying him and he looked at her trying to make the expression insolent. "What you looking at. gorgeous?"
"You look like you should be much more experienced than you are," she said. "May I ask a few personal questions?"
"Shoot," Gary said. "'I'll answer them only if damned well please."
"Ever had a guy?"
"Tried it once. Couldn't make myself do it, though. Didn't see how I could go that route."
"Give it to a girl up the ass?"
"Never could seem to want to get the thing all brown that way, especially without a clitoris there to let you know where home should be."
"Smoked pot?"
"Nope. No desire or connections."
"Gone down on a girl?"
"Tried it once and she peed while I was doing ft and I vomited, so I never tried it again."
"On a guy?"
"Best I was able to do even as a kid on the school ground was jack one off-and he said I had calloused hands and hurt him so that he couldn't come. Said, too, I squeezed too hard."
"Man, you're all front and, except for having honest hose equipment, you're not broad enough based even for high school nowadays," Mildred said bluntly. "I could teach you a lot more than I suspect you know about how to have fun for yourself and to help your lady friends enjoy themselves. Best trick you have is finger-fucking while you screw."
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. The sound was slow, labored, as though the driving force on the bed was just about through. My God that had taken a long time. Maybe old Charlie was older than he seemed.
Now the sound of the spring had stopped. It seemed a reproach in its silence almost as much as in its noisiness. Almost as much as Lorna Taylor had reproached him by not granting him an encore. Almost as much as this thing that Mildred had just told him.
Was it possible that Emily really hadn't wanted to mate with him ever? That she was using her mother's presence as an excuse to escape some sort of ineptness or selfishness on his part? So if he had to lose his wife even momentarily to another man, at least maybe this couple swapping thing they were doing could teach him to make her happier.
"Would you teach me?" Gary asked.
"Only if you swear you'll do everything I tell you to do exactly as I tell you," the little beauty responded.