Chapter 4
Connie was having a wonderful dream.
In her dream, Paul suddenly tore the sheets from the bed, ripped the nightgown from her frightened quivering body and stood staring down at her, his eyes lit with a crazy blaze of lust and his slim muscular body slick and oily with the sweat of his urgency.
"I'm going to fuck you, Baby," he said in an eager, husky voice. "You like that, don't you? After all these years you wasted running away and hiding from people, making yourself believe no one could love you. But it's different now, isn't it? Now you've got a husband, somebody who does love you. Now you know how good it feels to fuck, and I'm not going to let you forget it. Last night was just the beginning, Missy, because I'm going to fuck you till you can't stand it any more. With this!"
And roughly he grabbed her long blonde hair and jerked her head forward, forcing her to look at his stiff cock. Connie gasped at the sight of it, but her fear erupted with a sensual wave of arousal. Because it was Harvey's oversized cock looming huge and fat out of Paul's groin. He rubbed her face against it, laughing as its reddened, throbbing tip jarred and probed at her tightly shut mouth.
"Connie loves it, doesn't she?" Paul grinned cruelly, knowingly. "But this time you're going to have to ask for it, baby. Go ahead. Ask!" He twisted her hair violently, and Connie screamed.
"Yes!" she sobbed, unable to subdue the aching itch in her cunt for that ugly, filthy cock. "Yes, oh, God, yes, fuck me with it! Stick it inside me . . . yes, please . . . oh, oh, God ..."
Paul shoved her back on the bed and pulled her legs apart until her hip joints popped, entirely exposing her delicate, sweetly dripping hole in all its pink splendor. Then he guided his supercock into her, slowly at first, then harshly, until it was all the way into her. But oddly, there was no pain. Her little cunt stretched wider and wider to receive every monstrous inch, and it didn't hurt at all. It felt wonderful!
Paul jerked in and out of her, and he laughed at the glazing of passion of her face. "You like it, don't you? Tell me!"
"I like it!" she sobbed, closing her eyes to concentrate completely on the gigantic thing writhing inside her cunt.
"After this, you'll want it all the time, won't you?"
"Y-yes," she moaned, her body twisting in rhythm to his.
"You'll want it to fuck you like this forever, won't you?"
"Oh!" She felt herself coming, and clasped him even tighter between her thighs. "Oh, yes! Yes!"
"Then tell me, Missy. Tell me what you want."
"Fuck . . . aaahhh, fuck me!" she heaved, and she felt the rushing surge of a second climax. "Fuck me, fuck me . . . oh, Paul, fuck me!"
She opened her eyes-and saw Harvey's face grinning down on her!
Connie wanted to scream. She wanted to stop. But she could do neither, because that big fat gorgeous thing was inside her, and she kept repeating, louder and louder: "Fuck me, fuck me . . .
And with those words on her lips, she stirred sleepily. The morning sun shone into the bedroom, and her body was twitching in dreamy hunger. She reached down to her parted thighs-and her fingers entangled in Paul's hair! His tongue darted onto her clit, and Connie groaned, still caught in the haze between waking and sleep. He flicked and sucked her clit, then jabbed his greedy tongue all the way inside her hot cunt, and Connie's hips jerked up, her hands clutched his head as release overwhelmed her, and gushing cream filled Paul's mouth and trickled down his chin. Spasm after spasm coursed through Connie, until at last he gave her soaked pussy one last deep kiss and lifted his head.
Paul grinned-and this time it was Paul's grin, not Harvey's. "Good morning. Sleep well?"
Connie gasped, luxuriating in the oozing wetness of saliva and pussyjuice flowing down her thighs. "Mmm . . . you . . . bastard!"
Paul laughed and stood up, buttoning his cut-off jeans. "I always wanted to wake a woman up like that, and now I can. And you should have heard the things you said! I didn't know you had it in you, babe."
Connie blushed at the memory of her dream, and covered up quickly. "Well, whose fault was that? I didn't know I had it in me, either!"
They both laughed then, and Paul bent to kiss her. Connie could taste the pungent flavor of her own juice on his lips, but she didn't mind. She'd learned a lot in one night.
Paul pushed himself away, first wiping the wetness from Connie's chin, then his own. "You were beautiful last night, babe. And come to think of it, you're even more beautiful this morning. Love you."
Reluctantly but forcefully, he pulled away from Connie's arms, and she pouted. "Where are you going so early on our honeymoon? Is this what I've got to expect from now on?"
"I have other husbandly duties to attend to now," Paul smiled as he pulled his shirt on. "Right now, I'm going to mow our lawn. Which might sound crazy to you, but I've been looking forward to it. And Harvey loaned me his mower for just that purpose. Maybe then I'll see about planting us a garden, with a couple of good summer months left." He stopped at the door and turned back with a leer. "Or maybe I'll drop in to finish what I started. Just hold that pose, honey."
Instantly Connie snapped her legs shut and pulled her nightgown down, making Paul burst out laughing once more at her embarrassment.
"That's one thing you'll never be able to finish!" she taunted at his retreating figure.
She listened as he clomped down the stairs and out the back door, and a few moments later she heard the abrupt buzz of a lawn mower. Connie stretched languorously, still warm and tingling and wet from Paul's tonguing. A warm morning breeze fanned her body, brushing the silky bodice of her nightgown over her nipples and making them pop up.
From where she lay, she could see Irene's bedroom window, and all last night's memories rushed back to increase her glow. She and Paul shouldn't have watched, she thought without really meaning it. Irene and Harvey probably wouldn't have minded-that part, at least, was true-but it was such a naughty thing for her to do. On the other hand, if they had wanted privacy, they should have closed their curtains. It wasn't her fault she'd watched! They had practically forced her to!
As though having settled an argument, Connie stood up and slid the nightgown up over her body, letting it drift to the bed. She stretched before the bedroom window just the way Irene had done last night, letting the breeze tickle her firm apple-sized tits and the damp mound of her young horny cunt. Vaguely she heard the lawn mower approaching around the corner of the house, and she smiled to herself. How would Paul react if he saw her standing here like this, nude and aroused and hungry for the food only he could provide. Wouldn't that just make him forget his other husbandly duties in a hurry!
As this thought made her smile in anticipation, abruptly the lawn mower stopped dead, practically beneath her window, and Connie could hear the sound of voices. She stepped nearer the window and peeked out.
"... didn't know you were here," Paul was saying. He stood almost directly below Connie, and when she saw who he was talking to, a tremor of jealousy shot through her.
Irene lay just a few feet in front of him, sunning herself in the morning sunlight that squeezed between the two houses. As Connie watched, she lazily rolled to her side on the bright yellow beach blanket, to examine Paul. She was wearing a skimpy green and white polka-dotted bikini, and when she rolled onto her side, her mammoth jugs bulged under the confinement of the small top, and her hip jutted out, tan and naked, against the string tie of the bottom.
"That's all right," she answered, lifting a pair of dark sunglasses to measure him with her sharp blue eyes. "I'm afraid I'm the one who's in the way. I catch the sun here every morning while it's cool. Your house has been empty so long, I couldn't break the routine. I'll move."
"Don't bother," Paul burst out hastily, although Connie noticed with pursed lips that Irene had made no move to follow through with her suggestion. "It gives me a chance to take a breather. I'm a struggling young lawyer, you know, and we aren't used to this kind of work." To prove his point, he nervously wiped the trickle of sweat from his forehead.
Connie opened her mouth to call out to him, then unexpectedly closed it again, not certain why she kept silent. She didn't have time to wonder what kept her from interrupting the scene, as Paul spoke again.
"If you don't mind an attorney's professional opinion," he said, then cleared his throat, "from where I'm standing, I can't see that you need it."
Irene smiled and looked down at her own glistening brown body. "Then you aren't looking in the right places. And now that you've called it to my attention, I could use some more oil. Do me?" She reached down and picked up a bottle of clear liquid, then held it as if making an offering, her blue eyes glinting with an impish, daring look.
"Well ..." Paul glanced up in the direction of the bedroom window, and Connie instinctively pulled back without knowing why she did. The thought of her husband touching Irene's too-perfect body made her stomach churn, but some cruel curiosity kept her from making her presence known, kept her from calling Paul the hell away from that woman.
"I really should finish the lawn," Paul said lamely, obviously struggling with a wisp of guilt.
"And let my back burn?" Irene pursed her lips in a teaching pout, running a hand across her thigh. "Is that a neighborly act?"
Paul shrugged off his guilt and grinned widely.
"In that case, how can I refuse?"
Connie watched with a sickening ache as he walked over and took the lotion from Irene. She rolled back onto her belly, then reached around to unclasp her top and pull her long black hair over her shoulders. As he stood over her with the bottle in his hand, looking down at that gorgeous woman with her slender legs, swelling ass, and huge tits that mashed naked against the blanket, Connie could sense the thoughts running through his mind, the vision of Irene as she had been the night before-all horny and voluptuous with Harvey's cock deep inside her and cum spurting down her legs.
Connie knew what he saw, and she wanted to cry out as Paul slowly knelt and began to apply the lotion on Irene's back.
"Mmm, that feels nice," Irene murmured as Paul's hand ran over her smooth skin. "So cool . . . delicious. You ought to let me rub you down sometime, Paul. Word has it that I'm pretty good."
Paul laughed nervously as he spread the lotion on. "I suspect you're good at everything. In my professional opinion, of course."
Irene turned her head to look up at him. "Why, that was an honest-to-gosh compliment! And from a lawyer, yet! How much will the bill be for that?"
Grinning, Paul ran his fingers up her spine, making her squirm. "Compliments I give free. The rubdown . . . well, we'll work something out."
"An interesting notion," Irene said demurely, and Paul's eyebrows went up as he realized the implication behind his light statement. She continued, "But of course, if I have to pay, I expect a first-class job. The legs, please."
Connie watched in sick fascination as he bent to caress Irene's legs-first one, then the other-his sticky hands running up from her ankles, over calves and thighs, smoothing the wet lotion on her trim strong legs and each time reaching higher and higher until his fingers brushed the fabric of her bikini bottom, slowly caressing the insides of her thighs and her plump jutting asscheeks. Irene spread her legs apart, moaning at the soothing touch of his hands.
"That's right," she urged, wriggling a bit as he lingered at the juncture of her thighs. "It feels so nice . . . now finish my back like a good boy. I think you're really getting the hang of this."
Paul returned to her back, kneading her bare sides. His palms worked up and down from the center of her spine all the way around to her ribs and underarms, until his fingertips ran over the bare bulges of her rounded quivering tits.
"That's right," Irene prodded him on. "Now lower. Lower . . . yes, that's it. Here." She reached to her sides and untied the strings of her bikini bottom, pushing it down until the top of the crack of her ass rippled beneath his gaze. "You don't mind, do you? Usually I sunbathe without anything at all on, not even this little thing, since we're so far from the main part of town that cars hardly ever go by. I hope I'm not embarrassing you."
"No," Paul answered in a rough, cracked voice. "Not at all." His hands worked with growing fervor up and down her back, with each motion sweeping from the swelling sides of her tits across and down to her ass, and each time pressing his fingertips a little farther beneath the rear flap of her bikini bottom, forcing it down a bit and inserting one finger in the hint of cleavage that widened there.
"You're getting better," Irene moaned. "Ahh, yes, that's so good."
Paul worked the polka-dot bottom down until the taut, tanned cheeks of her ass were almost totally exposed. "You're tense," he said in a choked, horny voice, his eyes never leaving her nearly bare ass. "You've got to loosen up . . . relax. Just let these magic fingers take care of you."
Irene gave a small laugh. "They really are magic! I feel all tingly and nice. Keep this up, my friend, and you may even get a bonus."
Paul's lips twitched in a smile as he kneaded, massaged, worked his way farther and farther down to cup her raised asscheeks in his palms, until the bottom flap fell between her legs. With a hissing breath he stared down at her full, perfect ass.
And Irene didn't mind at all. In fact, she was writhing and moaning happily as he worked her asscheeks over, squeezing and patting and running his hands across them to open the tiny pink ring of her asshole. "Mmm, so good . . . good, baby," she gasped.
Still massaging her ass, Paul eased his hands down her crack until he could feel the first black pussy hairs brush his fingertips. He stroked and caressed, feeling the fringes of her fur begin to moisten. Then, suddenly afraid, he pulled away and glanced once more at his bedroom window.
And again Connie drew back. She had been watching it all with a kind of numbness. There was not even anger, her utter surprise was so complete. Her husband-touching and fondling another woman's ass!
Irene groaned in disappointment and looked up. "Why'd you stop, Paul? You were doing so well!"
Paul winced, not wanting to admit his fear of being caught by his wife. "I . . . I'm no expert on giving rubdowns, Irene. Maybe a professional masseur ..."
"Oh, don't be such a big idiot!" she blurted, making him blush at the lameness of his own words. "Professional masseur! You were doing just fine. I mean, it's not as if we were doing something bad, is it? Is that what's bothering you, that Connie might look out and see us? Surely you can't think she'd be upset, when all you're doing is giving a friend a helping hand?"
Paul shrugged uncomfortably, irked by the laughter in Irene's eyes. "No . . . no, of course not. She wouldn't mind, even if she were standing here this minute. Connie isn't the jealous type."
Irene pouted, still teasing him. "Then it must be me."
"No," Paul hurried, "it's just ... oh, hell. It's nothing. Nothing at all."
"Good." Irene smiled at her victory. "Besides, I'm done on this side anyway. Here." And, clasping her undone bikini to her, she rolled over onto her back. "Now finish me like a good boy, and then you can mow your lawn."
"Irene ..." Paul's throat went dry. His wet sticky hands hovered over her nearly nude body, and the sweat trickled down his face. "I . . . "
"It's easy," Irene scoffed, and grabbed his hands. Before he could pull away, she ran his palms across her shoulders. "See how easy it is, you big dope? Do I need a professional masseur for this?" Her guiding hands pulled his down across her shoulders, over the loose cups of her top, and across her bare belly to the fringe of thick black hair that curled out from beneath the untied bottom. "See, Paul? See how easy it is, and how good it makes me feel?"
She pushed his hands up her belly, higher and higher, forcing her bikini top off, until Paul found his palms pressed against her hard pointing nipples.
"Oooh," Irene whispered, rubbing his hands to her tits and making her nipples stand up hard and long. "Oooh, yesss ..."
Paul didn't even notice when she released her grip and pulled the top completely away. He was engrossed in the feel of her huge tits, the pink firmness of them. He rubbed harder, and his fingers parted to tweak and pull them, making Irene gasp. He had never seen such long, hard nipples on any woman before. Last night, when her halter had torn loose before his eyes, he thought his jaw would drop at the spectacle. Such huge, perfect, tarnished-gold pieces, rough and bumpy to his touch, with twin jutting spires that poked up so hungrily, so yearningly, to be kissed and sucked.
Paul licked his dry, cracked lips as he played and plucked those magnificent tits to the sounds of Irene's delighted gasps and moans. He continued his massage with no concern for anything else now, not even Connie. His fingers worked greedily over Irene's belly and down to her fringe of black curls, using his palms to push the bikini bottoms away. Then her entire triangle of glossy wet fur lay before him, and he ran his fingers through that thick shining moss-the way he had dreamed of doing last night.
Irene writhed excitedly, but Paul took his time with loving care, touching her dense luscious patch, watching his fingers plunge through it. He moved on, gently tracing his hands down to the in-sides of her thighs and spreading them apart.
"Oh, yesss, ahhh ..." Irene whimpered, letting her legs be drawn out to open the puffed milky-wet mouth of her slit.
Paul's cock throbbed achingly in his cut-offs as his thumbs ran up and down her sweetly scented, wet cuntlips and then parted them to display the glistening pink of her cunt hole, which filled with drooling cream as he spread it open. Irene's hooded clit leaped at his touch, and he twiddled her love button as juice flowed down the crack of her ass.
"That's it!" Irene cried, bouncing up and down. "Aggghhh . . . nnn ..."
Paul couldn't stop himself now, even if he wanted to. He had to taste that cunt, just the way he had tasted Connie's. He bent down and licked the entire length of her slit, from puckered asshole to hard clit, drinking in her gushing cuntjuice. Then he jabbed his tongue straight into Irene's gaping twat.
She gave a small scream and her ass leaped up to meet his mouth. Paul worked feverishly, ramming his stiffened tongue in and out, sucking up the perfumed fountain of her cunt.
"Eat . . . oh, yeah, eat me!" Irene cried. "Eat me . . . oooh, sweet baby!"
He flicked and sucked the hard nipple of her clit and dove his tongue deep into her beautiful pink asshole. He couldn't get enough; his hunger was too devouring now, too overwhelming to control. He wanted Irene's luscious body totally; he wanted to swallow and plunge even deeper for more of her dripping sweetness.
"Oh, God, you fucking sweet baby! Oh, shit, you're making me . . . oh, fucking shit, I'm coming!" Irene screamed. "I'm on fire! Fuck me, Paul, fuck me ... do anything, you sweet bastard . . . ohhh!"
She wrapped her strong legs around his head, but Paul twisted away and pulled at his cut-offs.
"Now," he grunted, "now you can pay for that massage!" He bared his aching cock and dove straight into Irene's big wet cunt.
She gave a wild, wordless cry that the whole neighborhood must have heard, but neither of them cared. Paul heaved, raising himself up on his hands and twisting unmercifully into Irene's pussy, making her cry out afresh with each cruel, twat-ripping jolt of his body.
Paul smiled cruelly, enjoying the mixture of pain and fulfillment he dealt out. For some reason-probably an inner twinge of guilt, he realized; that, or hidden jealousy of Harve's huge cock-he found himself wanting to hurt her, wanting to abuse Irene's beautiful, perfect body the way Harve had last night. He wanted this bitch to know she'd been fucked, and to remember who'd done the fucking. He wanted to make her hurt-and make her love it. His pumping grew wilder, faster, and Irene's fingernails raked his chest and dug painfully into his shoulders. In response, Paul leaned down and bit her nipples-the nipples he had been admiring only minutes before.
Irene's cries rose, louder and louder.
And Connie stared, wanting to shut those cries out, as she watched Paul's transformation from a gentle, loving husband to a sadistic, cruel lover. This wasn't Paul, but a stranger. And her honeymoon, her dream come true, had suddenly twisted itself into a nightmare. She stood in the window, staring in horror at the two rutting, sobbing people on the yellow blanket.
She saw Paul's lips-her husband's lips!-cover one of Irene's beautiful tits and nip brutally at it. She saw Paul's hips surge and plunge, sinking his cock-the cock that should have belonged to her!-sink deeper and deeper into Irene's cunt. She watched in complete, numb shock as he fucked another woman, fucked her harder and harder and . . .
Connie was panting, and hot liquid raced down her thigh. She gasped as their hips wrenched in agonizing, luxurious ecstasy-pain, and her hands moved as though of their own accord to knead her bare, heaving little tits. It was a reaction of shock, but her nipples hardened under her palms, and Connie began to rub at the hardness of them as she watched her husband grind his swollen prick into Irene and watched Irene rake at his back while his mouth attacked her nipples.
Connie leaned against the open window sill, and the breeze ruffled her damp cunthairs, cooled the steaming juice between her legs and made her cunt tickle. Unconsciously, Connie ran one hand down to rub away the tickling sensation, and a fresh gush of cream ran from her itching cunt.
Paul reached down, pushed past the bouncing globes of Irene's ass and harshly jabbed a finger up her asshole.
Irene screamed and bucked, and in the same instant Connie pushed the heel of her soft hand against the mound of her pussy, rubbing the itch there while she watched her husband finger-fuck Irene's ass, while she heard her next-door neighbor's sobs. His finger and his cock sank in and pulled out with slurping noises, and his mouth sucked and bit, making Irene's beautiful face contort and stream with tears.
Connie rubbed faster and faster as Paul's pumping increased, and her small delicate fingers slipped between the lips of her little cunt and rubbed fiercely at the growing itch in her clit. Her gasps came faster and faster, no longer in shock or horror. She couldn't help herself. For the first time, she was seeing a side of Paul that she had never even imagined might exist.
And she had already been so, so horny . . .
Her eyes glazed, her gasps became eager pants as she watched the two people on the ground. Her fingers slipped up her tight little hole and began to slide in and out, scratching at the growing itch there, the itch that made her grind her hips onto her hand and bite her lip to keep from crying out as growing bursts of pleasure made her body wrench, made her fingers move faster and faster . . .
Then a real scream tore past Irene's gritted teeth. Paul drove into her cunt, ripping into her with all the strength he had, and they came together in a blinding, surging climax. His load shot deep into her cunt, and she pulled his body tight with her thighs as his hot jism pumped in spurting spasms to fill her bruised cunt.
Connie's pants became one long hiss, and her fingers dug in and out of her little twat, unmindful of the cream dripping down her white thighs. She came at once, stifling a cry of her own, as fire shot through her entire body-fire that coursed through her in wave after delicious wave.
Irene and Paul collapsed together on the blanket, their juices spilling out and soaking it. Gasping, slick with suntan oil and sweat and saliva and jism, they clung in the last heavy jolts of climax. Then Paul slid his finger from her ass, glanced down at her bruised tits and looked into Irene's face, suddenly realizing the terrible things he had done to her.
But Irene was smiling. She put her hands to his face, and her eyes filled with fresh tears. "Paul, Paul ... oh sweet, sweet baby, that was the best. It was . . . oh, fucking shit, I've never had it like that! I'm yours, baby, just for the asking, whenever and whatever you want. Remember that, Paul. Always. Oh, you sweet, beautiful ..." She hugged him, sobbing.
Stunned, completely taken by surprise at Irene's words and overwhelmed by all the conflicting emotions leaping within him, Paul found his own arms caressing her, heard his own voice whisper, "That's good, Irene, because I just may be taking you up on that right now."
Connie, totally caught up in the hot waves of her own hunger, jiggled her cunt wildly on her probing fingers, coming again and again. Her blurred gaze left the two drained figures on the ground and drifted upward in ecstasy . . . ... to see Harve grinning at her from Irene's bedroom window.
And she couldn't stop!