Chapter 8
"Damn bitch ..." muttered Ted under his breath. The shivering October night air froze his words in mid-breath. Bitten by Myra's bug... the whorened's jaws meshed in synchronization with the Datsun 280's gears as the silver bullet sped toward the wealthier side of town where Mercedes' hugged tree-lined avenues.
Yet deep in his domineering male psyche he couldn't beat down the unswallowable truth that his wife's speeding off to spend a night with a five-timing slut like Myra was his fault. His buttocks still ached from the puncturing prick of the penicillin shot. One bite of the apple had shamed his arrogant nudity and now the snake crawling between his strong thighs coiled in despair at the night spent in the arms of the cocktail waitress at the Crow's Nest. Damnesd stupid thing to do, his rational self tutted. Damned stupid....
Damned stupid, but it failed to cool down his temper. Maybe he had fucked another woman till he couldn't walk straight; maybe he didn't make love to his wife when she begged for an affirming touch; maybe he'd made her feel cheap and worthless and unfeminine.
A sickening feeling tightened in the bowl of his beer-blutted gut with that realization. If he'd buried guilt and fear he would have been truthful with her. Hell, people picked up social diseases from toilet seats and from unwashed underwear straight from the store wrapper. Had he played on Polly's vulnerability as he had for the past three years, he wouldn't be caged in by the iron bars of womanly threats.
The Datsun's headlights picked up the silver gleam of Polly's silver Rabbit parked snugly alongside the curving driveway of Myra's alimony-inspited stone and stucco bungalow. Cozy little spread it was, with maple and elm trees, standing silhouettes in the dim light of the electric lamp post marking the flagstones leading up to her front door. Smoke billowed from the chimney, blueing the air in homey hints of contentment.
The irate husband, distraught and feeling the prickle of nervousness, hunched his shoulders against the breezy winds tearing through the nubby tweed of his zipped up jacket, and scuffed tipsily toward the door. He had lifted his knuckles to knock, when he hesitated.
What kind of spying, unliberated macho pig would he make himself out to be, knocking susipciously on doors at ten o'clock in the evening? Is my wife there, please, huh? Myra would laugh his balls off, the castrating bitch! He'd despised her haughty sensuality since college days when she would sneak into the fraternity house wearing a trench coat and nothing else, and fuck the pajama pants off half of Chi Omega ... except for Ted Atkins! What distaste soured her tastebuds against him, he couldn't fathom. Time was deep and treacherous and Polly's childish running away was not justifiable cause to plunge the waters of time. Turning on his heel, he scuffed back towards his car, the square-shouldered shadow undiscernible in a thin silhouette of naked tree branches dancing in the wind, spashed by a light post lamp.
With a whimper of appreciation, Myra plucked her fingers hurriedly from the steaming morass of her cunt and lifted her smooth, garter belt stripped buttocks so that Polly's mouth could smother her sensitive flesh. She wanted nothing more than to have the blonde haired nymphet who reminded her of the sweet dolls in the glossy magazines, bring her to a splattering orgasm. Her hands gripped Polly's dancing breasts and squeezed the milky orbs with unwomanly strength, her brain lost in the fire of burning sensations rolling through her vaginal mound.
The feel of red polished fingertips digging into her creamy flesh almost made Polly cum. Her mouth sucked, her pussy sucked, her belly danced with white hot excitation and her cream-dripping vagina gripped around Dr. Dearborn's plunging cock like a clenching fist, while his cum-filled testicles pounded an erotic tattoo against her nakedly upthrust buttocks.
The doctor's moustache twitched with evil delight as, yanking higher and further apart Polly's quivering legs, his lust hardened penis fucked into her with thundering thrusts. The raw, sucked, naked lips of Myra's pussy were driving her to insane heights of ecstasy. She rocked back and forth, her heels digging into the carpet to keep from falling; hands digging into the sofa back, her pelvis grinding over her female lover's face, she cooed her delight.
"Ahhh ... eiii.. . I'm ... I'm cumming!" She jerked and heaved and twisted her panting nudity beneath Polly's oral licking. "Suck me ... honee! Succck mee!" It was the wail of a banshee in the throes of pagan orgasm-lesbian orgasm! Her wetly spewing cunt dripped with creamy cum that drenched Polly's pretty face.
Frenetically, like a battery operated toy gone berserk, Dr. Dearborn fucked into Polly's rippling pussy. Lewd cries and screams egged him on with moans of his own echoing their lust-inspired ecstasy. Polly groaned out from the searing bittersweet pain rippling through her ravaged genitals, as the head of his goring cock thundered into her sensitive cervix until it threatened to tear through the tender tissue and gouge out her heart! It hurt, but it hurt good! Her muffled voice lost in the cum drenched tendrils of Myra's ragged cunt lips, echoed from between Myra's legs. Her greedily clasping cunt locked down around his thrusting penis and slithered up wetly to devour voraciously more of the sausagey meat of his prick. Sweat poured from her flesh as she aimed and clawed her way toward orgasm. A deep hum tore from her throat, her inner thighs spasmed ... she was close, so very close!
"Fuck her, Ed!" she heard Myra goad, but Polly could hear nothing above the singing in her temples, the buzzing in her ears. Her entire nudity was alive with the harmonious dance of orgasm. Then it rose deep in her belly, the cone forming on the volcano, preparing for an explosion that would rock the house on its foundation.
"Ah, ah . . . I-J Ahhh Gawwwwd . . . I'm cummmming!" The married blonde woman screamed out, convulsing, filling the living room with the honeyed scent of her dripping love lava.
Above her, her screams echoed back ... deeper, masculine and very, very meaningful! Dimly, from her space station, hanging on a star, she felt her in-sides warm with gushes of hot molten sperm jetting from Dr. Dearborn's wildly jerking cock. Like a water hose, it spurted out millions of crawling sperm, wriggling their way toward the heart of her womb.
Later, long satisfied moments later, Polly's convulsing climax, combined with the dulling influence of drink, left her catatonic to the world. Her subconscious mind floated on carpets of erotic euphoria as she stirred in her sleep. Vaguely, she experienced a coldness as the warm sweating body lifted from beside her. Someone gently rolled her onto her back and spread a blanket over her nudity. She snuggled, worming contentedly under the warmth, lost to all but the sweet memory of forbidden bliss.
Dr. Dearborn settled down into the chair and, wiping his sticky penis with his underwear, splashed brandy into a snifter and wafted it aromatically under his nose. He pooched out his lips, feeling the tickle of his moustache now wetted with amber pearls of liquor. Languidly, his dark gleaming eyes fell upon the slumbering blonde whose pink fingertips had fallen to the floor in subconscious search of the satiny bowl of Myra's naked belly.
A catlike purr rippled from Myra's laxly parted lips and stunned to wakefulness by the touch of cool fingertips, forced herself to wakefulness. Her smile was crooked with satination, a smile that Dr. Dearborn interpreted as indulgent greed.
"Get what you wanted, Myra?" His voice echoed the pricklish pride of an artist standing back to admire a finished work, deciding whether to sell or possess.
"Mmmm..." Myra stroked burnished hair back behind a shell-like ear. "What's left besides dinner?" Like a preening cat, she scratched her head, ran long claws to reach an itch along her shoulder blades and braced her feet to stand up. "I'm hungry ... are you? We never did boil the water for my clams."
"The night hasn't ended, my dear."
"Hmmm?" A crooked smile creased the smeared lipstick whose outer layer was streaked along Polly's inner thighs. Knee walking to Dr. Dearborn's nakedly spread legs, she draped an elbow weakly over his right one and crawled up the sofa like a house pet begging to curl in its master's lap. "Any more surprises in store? I dare say, I ought to invest money in your institute, doctor ... as teachers we'd make a killing together!"
He stroked her cheek. Funny you should say that, he thought, arching a bushy eyebrow. That's exactly what I had in mind in exchange for the favor of fucking your Titian haired friend! "I'd love nothing better!" He drew in a deep breath that rippled of contentment edged with boredom. He toyed with a strand of her curly hair. "We're soon to expect a guest, if you don't mind."
"Now? Who?"
Lifting his chin, he nodded in the direction of the sofa where Polly slumbered peacefully. "Our darling's husband, no less. He telephoned while you two were 'engaged,' shall we say, inquiring about his wife. I took the liberty of inviting him over for a drink. He should be here any moment, if my instincts haven't been burned out from the last hour of teasing our toy."
With a bottle weighing his pocket and a scuffle in his step, Ted threw himself back behind the wheel of his car, abandoning the aching fear of hypocrondiacal gonorrhea. He'd read in a condensed Reader's Digest article that one could contact a disease merely by thinking oneself out of immunity. Be that true, his cock was seeping with discharge right now instead of the wet dime sized spot of lubrication oozing from its tip from the gnawing remembrance of Polly's seductive behavior the previous evening. Christ, he could have fucked her in the ass, she was so hot! Hot ... why?
He knew better than to ask himself that silly question. The evidence was under his arm, the glossy magazine covers cold against his wrist. Myra and her self-help courses! Huh! The only self help that woman needed was to pry her mouth loose of cock. That's all she did, so the Chi Omega frats claimed-suck cock. Couldn't pry her legs apart with a crowbar to throw the animal a piece of male meat. Something screwy behind those ears! Not that he wouldn't mind stuffing his bloated girth into her right now, just to prove she was no greater influence over his wife than he. Hell, she's probably turned into a raving lesbian by now.
Those damning thoughts and flickers of imaginary sex scenes, inspired by the grinning nymphets eating their way through the pages of filth, pricked suspicion of torrid sex scenes between God only knew who. Where Polly fit into this madness, he was soon to find out. In his rearview mirror, his half drunken eyes raked over the stone face of Myra Belfry's domain. The chimney spewed out smoke in darkening trails that evaporated into the night air.
With forced nonchalance, Ted slipped the car keys into his pocket and retreked the cobblestone walk until he reached the front door. Pressing his ear to the door, his overworking senses picked up the titter of lusty laughter. Definitely Myra's .. . Polly's voice was chimey, like the tinkle of a Christmas bell.
Dr. Dearborn, draped in a satin men's kimono which Myra kept handy for 'unexpected overnight guests', nodded his cue to, his accomplice who sat in ragged stockings and garter belt next to the fire. The door creaked open and Ted Atkins' face set in expectant dispute, lips taut, mouth sweet with alcohol, squinted into the living room splattered with firelight.
The clever doctor stared at the distraught husband, hunched against the biting winds, and wondered how long it would take him to sniff sex, his temper to bomb the roof off the house, when he spied his darling Polly laying naked on the sofa with her lips encrusted with female cum. Now he wished he'd forced her into letting him stuff his cock down her throat, so his sperm could have caked her lips in perfect harmony of the sexes!
"Where's my wife? I want my wife, goddamn it!" He growled in Dr. Dearborn's evilly twitching face. Shouldering his way into the house, Ted Atkins stomped three angry steps toward the living room ... and stopped dead in his tracks.
Myra winked at their guest. "Hi, Ted ... how y' doin'?" Naked from the waist up, her melon-like breasts danced with crackling firelight. The bowl of her satiny belly was stripped with black lace; one sleek leg clothed in torn fishnet black stockings was draped easily over the chair arm. She kicked her spiked heel and sipped her brandy from a snifter. , "What the hell?" His lips became tensile.
Myra regarded Polly's husband amusedly. Glossy magazines tucked under his arm, dressed in crisp white shirt and formal jacket, he looked like a night-calling Fullerbrush salesman.
"What right have you giving my wife this filth?" he bellowed, cheeks reddening with a rage that made him ball his fists into weapons. He threw the magazines on the floor. "Where's Polly?" Her nudity, creamy an lusty from orange fire reflections, added strength to the rising stalk of his penis. He'd never gotten a hard-on when angry; he couldn't understand his responses now.
"Now, now," cut in Dr. Dearborn as he padded barefoot down the three steps to the sunken living room, "have a drink and settle down."
Sofa back facing him, Ted hadn't seen the blonde head contentedly resting on pillows stained with sex. "I don't want a drink ... I want my wife. I know she's here .. . you goddamned told me yourself, you jerk!" Ted's upper lip curled in disdain as he regarded the suave doctor whose composure was admirably noted by Myra. Even as Ted grabbed the lithe bodied doctor and grabbed him by the slinky satin lapels of his kimono, he failed to flinch.
With a sneer, Ted loosened his hold, eyeballs boring into the other's and stomped over the magazines where pie-faced girls smiled up nakedly from between hairy male thighs. He gave them a kick and stalked around the sofa, passing by the sofa and letting out an injured yelp of pain. Bile rose in his throat as he spied his wife's discarded blue wool dress recklessly tossed in a blue ball under the glass-topped coffee table. A black lace garter belt caught his eye and further up his bulging eyeballs traveled ... up the sleek lithe arm to naked, creamy shoulders, up the swan-like neck to the blonde curls of his flushed face wife... then down the other naked shoulder to rest on the strawberry nipple, swollen from Myra's sucking lips. He stared incredulously at his snoring wife. His nose twitched from the piquant smell of freshly spewed sex juices drying in the heat of the fireplace.
Ted's nostrils flared with rage. Except for the heated snorting of forced, discharged air, one could have heard a pin drop. A roar tore from his chest as he jumped on his wife and shook her so hard Myra swore she could hear Polly's teeth rattle. Polly's naked breast bobbed up and down like a cork in water.
Polly opened one sleepy eye and squinted up at the red-faced stranger growling down into her face. His breath smelled of alcohol, his hands icy on her shoulders. Hissing his disgust through clenched teeth, he threw his infidel of a wife back on the sofa.
What was that all about? Yawning, Polly forced herself to sit up, rubbed her eyes with the balls of her fists. With an effort of will, she forced herself to alertness, hiding under the blanket. Keeping her eyes focused in one spot was difficult; her eyelids fluttered, the mascara smeared clownishly around her periwinkle orbs feeling itchy as the wool blanket covered her nudity.
Naked ...? Vm naked? The warm trickle oozing from the heart of her womanhood, staining Myra Belfry's velour sofa, bore evidence of her adulterous romp with her college friend and Dr. Dearborn. The piquant taste of lesbian love encrusted her lips, the clammy feel of foreign male sweat beaded on her cleavage. She wanted to wither up and die. God forbid Ted should find out! Rolling over on her side, curling up in a protective prenatal ball, she pulled her knees up to her chest and whimpered.
Ted... the contorted mask of his scrunched-up face fled back to memory. If that didn't prove his presence, the bellowing voice did: "Goddamned slut!" He'd gone mad! Snatching her discarded nylons from the white carpet, he tried to rip them in half, but the tenacious nylon refused abuse and he went for her brassiere, draped over one corner of the glass topped table. With his-fists, he ripped the white lace garment in half, wadding up the lifeless halves and tossing them into the fire. He'd gone crazy, hysterical! He kicked her high heeled pumps across the room. Polly's new blue wool dress was in shreds. Thank God she wasn't still in it!
Polly cringed into the sofa cushions, wincing, the palms of her trembling hands wadded up edges of the wool blanket. Dr. Dearborn and Myra watched from the battlefield sidelines, amused at the irate husband's jealousy. When he'd cleared the floor of his wife's discarded garments, Ted started yelling, turning his ire on the face behind the twitching mustache.
"Who the fuck are you?" he growled. Ted Atkins' face turned from crimson red to ashen white with the doctor's reply.
"I'm the man who just fucked your wife, Mr. Atkins," he said, swishing brandy in his snifter with a nonchalance that drove Ted berserk.
"Fucked my wife? Huh! That's a laugh!" He threw back his head and laughed hysterically, every nerve ending in his body sizzling in reprisal. White hot jealousy sent him into an emotional spasm he couldn't control. He wanted to hurt her as she'd hurt him. "You fucked my wife... when you could fuck Myra? You've got to be kidding!"
That whoop of mockery cut Polly's pride to the quick. She flew from the couch and glared at her husband in nude victory. "What do you mean, he's got to be kidding? Just because you refuse to make love to me, doesn't mean no other men are attracted to me! You, you boring fuck!" Polly's face scrunched up with hatred; clownlike circles of smeared mascara hollowed her eye sockets, her tousled blonde curls looked as if she'd crawled out of a clothes dryer.
He should have beaten her for making love to another man, not laugh at his enemy for making a bad choice! So he didn't think she was a good lover, huh? Thought Myra was a sexier, more voluptuous woman? What kind of disgusting, insensitive, amoral bastard had she marred!
Oh, he would pay for that insult... oh, would he pay!
The lid flew off Polly's self control. Deep within her psyche, something snapped. The room fell silent, husband and wife glaring at each other, while the onlookers sat amusedly sipping brandy. The melodrama was about to begin. The radically transformed blonde housewife from the suburbs, began sashaying nakedly about the living room. Breasts jiggling, buttocks wiggling, she tousled her hair and arched her back, striking a cheesecake pose. She pooched out her cum encrusted lips and blew a kiss at her oogle-eyed husband.
"My husband," she said gustily, "thinks I am a boring female ... he doesn't want to make love to me." She tossed her curly head exaggeratedly; neither anger nor resentment chimed in her voice. Polly Atkins was beyond the point of emotion. Pure, unadulterated vengeance drove her on. She cupped her two warmly tingling breasts, swollen from earlier lesbian love, in the palms of her hands and weighed them like cantaloupes. Her body was hot, firelight streaking orange ribbons over her sheened bumps and curves. The butterfly was emerging from her cocoon; if ever Polly Atkins had been shy, that modest quality was shed from her now! An oddly pleasant feeling it was, being the center of attention. The exhibitionist in her strutted about the room, thrusting her nakedly quivering breasts in Dr. Dearborn's face.
She stroked her swollen nipples over his mustache and pooched out her succulent lips. "Dr. Dearborn didn't think I was a boring fuck, did you, honey?" she purred. Smirking dangerously, she flashed a glinty eyed smile at her pale faced husband whose jaw had dropped three inches in disbelief. , Dr. Dearborn was dumbstruck for the first time in his life. He finally let out a moan, fighting the temptation to nibble his teeth on the rosebuds of her succulent nipples. Fearfully, he stole a glance at Polly's husband out of the corner of one twitching eye.
Ted Atkins was riveted to the floor. A bomb couldn't have jarred him! His face once rose red with anger, had faded to ashen gray. His eyeballs bugged from his skull, veins throbbed in his neck. He looked like a wind-up toy soldier ready to charge into battle.
Polly spread her legs and with her thumbs, spread the rose petals of her ragged, swollen pussy lips. "See my pussy, Dr. Dearborn ... would you say that was a boring pussy?" She bent her knees so that the gawking man could see the moistening pink slit of her pussy a lick away from his mouth.
Confident that Ted Atkins was beyond the point of reprisal, too stunned to speak-or they all would have joined the fate of the torn bra and ripped dress-he cleared his throat and smiled up at her lewdly. He loved a game... and by God he had the ringside seat in this one! He'd never guessed that below that modest veneer was a white hot woman full of pride and vengeance. His long thick cock pounded beneath his robe.
Polly's hot tongue darted out to lick her soft lips, the very thought of her depravity making her sizzle with arousal. Her eyes fled to Myra who sat amusedly watching her college friend transform into a man-hating slut like herself.
"You want to fuck me, Ed? Want to shove your hard prick up my pussy and make me cum ... again?" The cum-entangled blonde fleece nesting her pink vaginal lips, was open to the doctor's examination. To egg him on, she ran a polished fingertip over the oily nub of her clitoris. "Huh, honey?"
"I... ah ... now?" He eyed what remained of the ego-damaged husband.
"You're crazy not to, Ed," said Myra huskily. "Hell, I'd snap up the chance ... she gives damned good head!"
Ted's body jolted as if a million volts of electricity had struck him. His hair literally stood .on end.
Though his cagey accomplice was egging him on, Dr. Dearborn had set ideas about fucking a man's wife in front of him. Whatever the shriveling husband had done to deserve this, it must have been damned juicy! Dearborn smacked his lips.
If one could describe insanity, Ted Atkins was a prize example. Torn between ripping his hair out and tearing his wife's fingernails to the quick, he rode the fine line. The sight of her parading around naked as a jay bird and fingering her pussy in front of a strange man, made him sizzle with humiliation. Yet, he balked. There was no stopping her, short of beating her to a pulp. For a man who'd never lain a hand on his wife, that presented problems. Dear God, what could he do? His armpits were drenched, his blood turned to ice. Indecision held him riveted to the floor.
Polly Atkins was on fire; she could no longer control her actions. An excited moan escaped her parted lips as she realized she really did want to fuck Dr. Dearborn again. She had already made a fool of herself, so why stop now? If Ted didn't already hate her, he was a fool. Never would he forgive her for this humiliation-in front of Myra, of all people!
"Fuck me, Dr. Dearborn," she hissed throatily. The words rolled off her tongue like liquid velvet. Her middle finger dipped into the wet honey pot of her cunt and slightly parted her fleshy vaginal lips, swollen from earlier excesses. Her periwinkle eyes rolled in her head, and she began to slide her finger up and down the wetly throbbing furrow of her crying cunt. "Dear Lord, what do I have to do to get you hard?"
"Get with it, Ed ... throw her the bone!" It was Myra's voice, thick and husky.
With that, Dr. Dearborn spread his legs, opening the flap of the satin kimono. His lancing penis parted the robe as it jutted out from his loins like a snake raising its head out its hole to check the weather conditions. Hurriedly, he untied the belt and the slinky fabric parted in the middle to show off his thin, muscular body. "Look good to ya, little girl?"
Polly cooed lustfully at him with salty tears welling up in her eyes. There was no retracing her steps, and she knew it. Everyone in the room knew-most of all, Dr. Dearborn, the perpetual opportunist.
The reality of his wife, his own dear Polly, blatantly seducing another man in front of his eyes was the last straw. He balled up his hands into steely fists. "Polly, stop it! Stop it! I can't take any more!"
Her head flew around. "You can't take any more? Huh?" she cried hysterically, her voice somewhere between a laugh and a cry. "I'm nothing to you... go find the little hussy you were sleeping with the night after our won-der-ful anniversary!"
"Yeah, shuddup, Ted!" snapped the umpire from her throne. "Let your wife have her way for once-big, macho football star!"
Ted sank onto the sofa, feeling an odd congestion in the pit of his stomach at the thought of watching his wife sluttishly seduce another man. From an objective point of view, it would be similar to investing at a fixed loan rate and watching the rates climb. The horror, the shock, had faded to a dull throb that quivered in his thighs, making his penis lurch with expectation of the macabre. He blinked for the first time when he heard Dr. Dearborn say as he climbed down onto the rug on all fours, simultaneously yanking off his robe and pulling Polly down with him: "Suck my cock, Polly... show your loving husband how you suck cock..."
Polly blinked. Her body went stiff. "No ... please, just fuck me...."
"Show hubby darling you're not a boring fuck!" he demanded. He leaned toward her, his jutting penis dangling inches from her face. Below, his sperm-filled testicles swayed in their hairy sacs. He wrapped his fingers in her blonde curls and yanked her head down with a grunt. "I told you to suck!"
"But..." Then: "Mmmmffff..."The piquant, rubbery nob was thrust between her pearly teeth, gouging at her tonsils. The unusual, semi-salty taste awakened her tastebuds dulled by brandy, polishing all fears with red hot desire. Willingly, she opened her mouth, licking her lips, allowing her tongue to stretch out between her lips. Her head moved forward, mentally comparing the taste to Myra's cunt.
The brandy, the earlier lesbian romp and now vengeance, combined to shed Polly's inhibitions, shattering them like glass. She swirled her wet tongue around the slit, tasting his juices while he moaned, his fingers massaging the back of her neck with brutal force. She opened her mouth, accepting him, swirling her tongue in faster strokes, holding the base and pumping his girthy meat into her throat.
"Ahhh ... Gawddd...!" he moaned. "Butter mouth...."
Now Polly began bobbing her head, her tongue twirling and her ovalled wet lips nibbling softly around the sliding shaft of his penis. Dr. Dearborn jerked his hips forward, staring down at her lewdly bobbing blonde head. Her firm breasts danced and swayed beneath her chest as she braced herself on her elbow. She swallowed and dipped her head as if bobbing for apples. He could see her lips clinging to the swollen head of his penis on the outstroke, and he could feel the building pressures of orgasm weight his testicles as she nibbled and feasted on his aching erection.
Surrendering herself to this newfound depravity, she sucked his cock voraciously, reveling in the piquant taste of his manly meat. Her naked, twitching loins ached with increasing tension as her own climax seethed in the pit of her belly.
Huh ... and Ted had laughed at her love act! She wanted the doctor to shoot his sperm down her gullet while her horrors truck husband oogled the act three feet away. She sucked faster, harder, her breasts heaving and her hips churning, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Deliberately, she pressed her nose and lips to the bristles of his pubic thatch, and caught the heavy musky aroma of earlier sex, making her nostrils flare like a frightened deer. The smell was an aphrodisiac.
Ted gawked shamefacedly at his once-puritanical wife sucking the fox faced man's cock-in front of him! Three years of begging her to take one tentative lick of his prick for the same favor-and here she was in full three dimensional life-sucking another man's wetly glistening penis as if she were starving! Anger, rage, heartache, bitterness ate at his better senses. He realized he should have been honest with her the night following their anniversary. Nor should he have laughed at her tonight.
But he had and now he was paying for it.
The animal in him, aside from all emotion, rooted him to the chair. He blinked, realizing the subtle changes taking place in his psyche. Ted squirmed, realizing he was growing excited-obscenely so-by witnessing his wife sucking another man's penis, gaining fantastic pleasure from another man that she had never allowed him. The woman was proving she was female, all female. His eyes glanced around the room and he wondered what carnalities had taken place tonight. He twisted in his chair, feeling his emotions grow like mushrooms on a rainy morn. A drop of seminal fluid oozed from the tip of his hardened cock.
Ted Atkins sat nervously in his chair, wondering what to do about the aching throb in the pit of his groin. Myra, watching from the sidelines with cattish attention, eyed the wronged husband lightly stroking his eagerly pulsing cock through his zipped-up pants. "Go for it, Ted ... look at Polly's luscious buttocks wagging in the breeze! Show her what a man you are- for a change!"
Ted's upper lip curled in disdain for the woman who'd made a fool of Polly and was now trying to make a fool of him. So she didn't think him much of a man, huh? He studied Myra's tilted smirk through bulging eyeballs, then let the reddened orbs travel to his wife's wildly rotating asscheeks. The rounded half moons of her buttocks winked back at him, tormenting him with bittersweet titillation. He couldn't take another minute of her seductive torture!
Damn ... if Polly could tear up the remaining shreds of marital trust and respect like so much tissue paper, so could he!
Panting, he tore at the zipper of his gabardine pants, kicked off his shoes and got down on all fours on the carpet. The fire was hot on his flushed cheeks, turning his brain into a fevered circuit of lust. He knelt between his wife's quivering thighs, stripped out of his jockey shorts, and knee walked up between her kneeling legs. With the warmth of his hot hands on her hips, he probed experimentally with his fingers, digging them gently into her warm, buttery flesh. Finding her backbone, the bumpy ridges stood out in symmetrically from the humped-over position she was in; he followed it until he came into wet contact with the cum slickened crevice of her vagina.
"Ohhh ... ahhh," mewled Polly, lost in a world of desire.
Ted snickered and pressed the seeping tip of his mushroomed penis into the wetly heated slit, sliding the rubbery tip up and down in sensuously taunting circles ... pleased with himself for finding the solution for abstinence. When had a woman ever contacted veneral disease from anal sex!
Polly squirmed her naked buttocks in salacious invitation against her husband, shuddering from the explosive desire to be invaded from both ends. That it was Ted who was about to take her from behind didn't matter ... one cock was as good as the other. "Yesss..." she hissed through clenched teeth. "Take me from behind!" she cried out, and then hungrily took the rigidly thrusting cock of Dr. Dearborn back into her warmly sucking mouth, sighing contentedly as she began to suck feverishly.
Ted snorted as he dug his fingers cruelly up into her pussy and ran his slickened cock head with the mixture of his wife's cheating cum and his own secretions.
Polly felt his hard hands gripping her shivering buttocks, still raw from earlier excesses. His fingers spread her buttery ass cheeks wide apart. She knew in that very instant that Ted was going to fuck her all right, but not in the loving, traditional sense that marked three years of marriage and trust. He was going to fuck her anally ... going to shove his erection right up her bowels'... like it or not!
Polly tried to cry out in protest, the horror of his defilement filling her with terror and disgust, but Ted held her firmly, chuckling: "Relax.. .and it won't hurt ... you cocksucking bitch!"
Finally he was going to punish her as she deserved. Pain . . . Polly couldn't stand the thought of her husband's sausage-like prick being rammed up her bowels, cruelly stretching her anus!
Now her husband had spread her defenselessly up-thrust ass cheeks wide as the flesh would tolerate, and she knew he was staring at the tiny puckered hole of her anus. God, was nothing sacred anymore? She struggled to twist away, but Dr. Dearborn flexed his strong hips with vengeance and drove his hardness down past her tonsils, yanking at her hair so tightly in his fist she feared he might scalp her! The kneeling, subjugated wife felt the rubbery head press against her naked rectal hole, teasing along there, and nudging against the tiny sphincter muscle. She heard her husband draw in a long breath.
"No... no, please, Ted... no... NO! DON'T HURT ME THERE!" her muffled scream echoed through the living room. "Myra... please, help me, Myra! Don't let him hurt meee!"
Polly's screams fell on deaf ears. Myra was lost in her own salacious world of self-fulfillment as, glassy eyed, she watched Dr. Dearborn shove his hardened penis down Polly's throat while Ted wormed his punishing cock up his wife's bowels. Polly was beyond help-another lesson to be learned.
With a vicious thrust that banged his bony pelvis into his wife's buttocks, Ted's bloated shaft of flesh split into her virginal anal hole with an unmerciful thrust. It slipped in, quarter inch by quarter inch, boring into her hot spongy back passage with relentless force, until she felt his sperm-weighted testicles slap against her inner thighs. The scream building in her mind tried to release its power through her throat, but all that came out from her ovalled lips was a strangled gasp as Dr. Dearborn flexed his buttocks and drove his long hard penis deeper into the warm buttery softness of her mouth.
"Holy shit!" grumped Ted Atkins half in pain. "What a tight ass you got, wifey!" he chuckled lewdly, feeling the sweetness of reprisal as he watched his wife's asscheeks quivering in agony.
Polly tried to shriek out in pain, but the bloated penis boring in and out between her lips forced her to swallow her cries in mocking silence. Her pretty features scrunched up in blistering pain as her anger-driven husband clutched at her hips and hammered his penis deeper up into her tightly resisting anal hole. The pressure of his straining thighs forced her forward, impaling her pretty flushed face on Dr. Dearborn's loins until she started to gag. Her eyes watered, her nose twitched... she was suffocating, so suck she must!
Behind her, Ted thrust with powerful strokes, making bestial sounds deep in his gurgling throat as his fleshy probe continued its heartless invasion of her private nether regions. His hips humped and humped, and his fingers clawed at her sleek thighs as Polly ground her naked ass cheeks back against his pelvis while his testicles smacked loudly against her cunt below. Then he drew his penis out slightly, watching as her pouting anal lips clung possessively to his shaft, slipping reluctantly down the length of his withdrawing penis. He continued to pull out until only the lust swollen head of his burgeoning cock was left lodged in between the gaping, pain filled hole of her rectum. He moaned and thrust inward again, his breath wheezing from his overworked lungs. He began fucking crazily into her buttery depths, feeling her spongy flesh and rubbery muscles grip his cock possessively, as if trying to pull it free of its base!
As Ted and the salacious Dr. Dearborn buffeted the limp hapless Polly between them, the pain and torment began subsiding. Gradually, the naked young woman began to feel something different, something more lewd and shameful than the mental agony of being used as a sex object by two selfish men ... the same sexual frenzy that had driven her to lesbian lovemaking earlier that evening took control of her soul, her body and her mind!
The pleasure became compulsive! Her movements became instinctual!
Polly Atkins' hips began to grind back against his rampaging cock screwing into her anal hole; her head flailed from side to side like a dog tearing at an old shoe. Her sucking mouth worked with blind passion, her cheeks hollowing as she savored the juicy secretions oozing from the tip of Dr. Dearborn's prick!
If ever the married woman had fantasies of becoming a whore, it was now! She was a whore! She mewled and cooed and gurgled around the rigid penis stuffing her mouth, her resistance shredded like damp tissue paper. "Fuccckkk meee!" A savage tone to her voice cried for salvation as the twin cocks bored into her with hellfire force!
Legs draped over the chair, red head draped over the chair's arm, Myra Belfry's belly and thighs quivered from the sultry exhibit taking place at her feet. She had to hand it to Polly-she was a devilish Pollyanna. Faster, faster, her fingers fluttered over her pussy curls, stroking herself into mindless ecstasy!
Ted stared at his wife's clinging anal flesh as she groveled around the suave Dr. Dearborn's genitals. A strange transformation came over him. The less sickened and jealous he became, the more aroused he was! This was an orgiastic dream come true-wild sex with no guilt ... and at Polly's insistence! His ears sang with blood.
Now Polly began gyrating her hips in a wild tempo that Dr. Dearborn was hard pressed to match. The two adrenalin-lust powered cocks increased their speed as they drove into her mouth and anus with thundering force!
Those cocks were alive within her-alive and a rowing! The hard rubbery cock head implanted in her rectum like a burrowing rodent, the tingling pound of sperm-heated testicles drubbing against her vaginal slit and against her dimpled chin, the fleshy folds of his thick penis screwing into her ovalled lips as if her mouth were just another cunt. Polly became one with them and despite the bittersweet pain in her anal hole, her tongue began to lick wildly at the hardened shaft filling her cheeks. She rammed her ass cheeks back against her husband's cock, feeling the first waves of her climax build in her belly. She cooed and mewled and drooled around the fleshy stalk battering into her mouth, knowing it wouldn't be long before she was freed of the damnable seething need for release. She'd transformed from a shy seedling to a blooming flower of lust!
The sight of the timid friend turned whore, was too much for Myra! She felt herself cumming as her fingers fluttered over the oily nub of her clitoris. Myra sucked in her breath, breasts heaving, as faster and faster her fingers plunged into her dripping pussy, still swollen from Polly's nibbling lips. Arching her back, she shoved her fingertips up into the spongy nest of her cervix ... her lustful mantras driving the thrusting threesome on to their roaring climaxes!
With a loud groan of impending release, Dr. Dearborn locked his possessive hands around the back of Polly's wildly bobbing head, drawing her warm wet mouth deep down on his cock until only a fraction of the rubbery stalk could be seen. Polly groaned from the agonizing pain of the meaty cudgel boring down her throat, scraping her tonsils. The first taste of male sperm, fiery and masculine, trickled down her throat. Then it came in a gush ... flooding the back of her mouth, filling the warm hole and bloating her cheeks until they nearly burst like water-filled balloons. She swallowed gluttonously, sputtering to keep from choking on the creamy sperm as he emptied his balls into the tender passage of her throat.
Grunting behind her, Ted thrust his massive hardness forward with a vengeful lunge, working slavishly with long, boring strokes that wormed up her convulsively puckering rectum. "Damn bitch . . . damn hot bitch," he muttered in a litany of love-lust. "I'm ... oh, Jesus, yeahhh ... I'm cumming!"
Polly stiffened as she felt her husband's cock burst in her anus. A terrible burning rush of hot, squirming seed spewed deep up into her anus with a searing agony that made stars sprinkle before her unblinking eyes. The hot sperm filled her body ... and then it hit her with volcanic force. Her orgasm lifted her off the floor like magic levitation.
A kaleidoscopic explosion of sound and color blinded her, as she roared off through the clouds to hang on to a star for that blissful moment! She felt their semen and her secretions rushing together in sticky rivers of lust, flowing down in spating rivers from her mouth and trickling down the slender columns of her thighs. For a long, blinding moment, she. knew nothing other than the joy of twin cocks spewing their seed into her, while her own juices rivered from her spasming cuntal lips and down her quivering thighs to the stained carpet below.
The fire crackled, logs smouldering into ashes. The room cooled, chilled with icy guilt and regret.
It was a contest between Polly and Ted to see who would relent first. Carefully, with studied neglect, they averted each other's eyes as if they mirrored the other's infidelity. Polly, with no clothes left in one piece, draped her wool coat over her shivering, naked body, hating to go home but hating more the idea of spending a night at Myra Belfry's house.
Myra and the lust-sated doctor lay snoring on the sofa, when Polly tiptoed out of the living room, leaving her husband to stare blindly after her in wonderment. He watched her disappear into the shadows toward the foyer where her high heels clicked on the hardwood floor.
Pride melted in warm gushes of emotion that knifed in his belly. He tore after her, catching her by the arm and pivoting her around to face him. Strands of blonde hair clung to her forehead, pasted by another man's cum. Her eyes and features were swollen and clownlike. Hanging her head, feeling the bile of guilt rise in her throat, she refused to look at him. With his strong hands, he forced her tiny pixie face upward to meet his eyes.
"I love you ... even if you made an ass out of yourself, I still love you."
Polly sniffled, forcing her head aside. Damn it, how could she still love him after the way he'd treated her? How could he still love her?
She started to mumble, but he put a finger to her pouty, swollen lips. "Don't talk ... let's get out of here!"
The human mind has its own buffers, and Ted Atkins' polished his injured male ego to a glistening shine. To admit to Polly's adultery was not yet possible. It would take time. Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he opened the door. The sky was turning pink, the ground crisp with frozen dew. A new morning, a new day---- A hot shower, a warm cup of tea....
"Ohhh, Ted, I love you!" cooed Polly, snuggling up to her husband's warm chest and pressing her satiny bosom to him.
Ted wrapped a strong arm around her back, bringing her close to his still sweating body and licking a warm tongue around the rim of her shell-like ear. "I love you too, baby.. .and I'm sorry if I insulted you or neglected you. Men can be selfish, insensitive bastards, and I guess you're stuck with the prize bull."
Polly wormed closer to him, hugging his hairy chest seductively. "Why don't we make love and forget about last night?" She shivered her naked shoulders. "Maybe we could both forget faster."
Ted blinked, the comfortable smile fading from his handsome face. I wouldn't have sex with my wife for a week, just to be sure ... Hastily, to fill the chasm of suspicion, he kissed her on the forehead and tweaked a puffy nipple between his fingers. "Honey, I'd love to- and don't get me wrong-I don.'t want you to feel bad, but that doctor... you never can tell what kind of diseases men like that carry." He pooched his lips thoughtfully and shook his head. "Maybe we oughta wait a coupla days before we-"
Polly whimpered. "But-I-"
Raising her hands to his lips, he kissed her fingers, one by one. "That doesn't mean, dear lady, we can't please each other in other ways."
Blessing his lucky stars for his wife's timely infidelities that freed him from his self-made trap, Ted wormed his way to the foot of the bed and, with the warmth of his palms opened his wife's shivering thighs and nestled his face in the warm wetness of her pussy.
Polly's hands cradled the soft brown curls tickling her sensitive flesh. As his tongue pleasured her in warm, wet swirls, sucking, nibbling at the tender flesh, the image of Myra's red hair refused to evaporate into faded memories of imagined pleasures.