Chapter 7

Harvey and Irene were seated on the divan, and already Paul was serving Harve a drink.

"Well, here comes our Missy now!" Harvey rose at her entrance, and his beady eyes traveled knowingly up and down Connie's- body, sending a little shiver of excitement through her, though she tried to ignore his look. "And don't you look good enough to eat!" he exclaimed, his teeth glinting hungrily. For the first time in two days he had actually changed clothes-a clean T-shirt and a glaring orange pair of Bermudas that hung loosely over his fat belly.

"It looks like we came over a bit early," said Irene in her husky deep voice, "but I guess we just couldn't restrain ourselves. We've been so lonely for neighbors, it's wonderful just to have people to talk to again."

Irene sat primly on the edge of the divan and smiled with her sharp, even, white teeth flashing, and Connie noticed with a returning tremor of jealousy that she looked none the worse for the morning's wear. In a soft green dress that clung tantalizingly to her figure, she held Paul's nervous gaze, and her smile turned to taunt him secretly.

Connie broke in quickly: "Maybe if you two got married, you wouldn't be so lonely, dear."

Harvey choked on his drink, and Irene looked at Connie with a wistful expression that for a moment almost made her sympathize. "That's what I keep saying, but no one seems to hear me."

Paul laughed giddily, and Connie glanced curiously at his slightly weaving figure. Obviously he had already guzzled a couple of drinks while Connie showered, and even as she watched, he downed another and spoke: "Sorry about my appearance, but I'm afraid you've caught me unprepared, so if you'll just excuse me I'll wash some of this sweat off and change."

"Oh, please, don't!" Irene rose from the divan and caught his arm, turning her fetching smile on Connie. "Don't you think men are beautiful when they've been working? So ... so masculine!" Her fingers ran absently over Paul's arm as she spoke, a motion that might have seemed innocent if Connie hadn't known better.

But she did, and her lips parted in a bitter little smile. "Oh, I agree completely! Now you do just as Irene says, Paul. We don't want you to wash a thing off!"

Paul, already heady from his intake of alcohol and the embarrassment of facing Irene under Connie's knowing gaze, gave a short wild laugh. With the dried odor of sweat clinging to his shirt and cut-offs, and the lingering aroma of two cunts still heavy on his cock, he reeled before them. "In that case, I could use another drink. Harve?"

"For Chrissakes, I haven't even started this one!" Harve's grin widened as Paul poured himself another slug and downed it with trembling, nervous fingers. "You're really putting it away like a pro, boy."

"Oh, yes," Connie said in a lilting tone. "He does so many things like a pro. You should see him, Harvey!" She glanced wickedly at Irene, who was hungrily watching Paul's every move. "Don't you think marriage does that to a man, dear?"

"Mmm?" Irene tore her eyes away for an instant. "Oh ... oh, yes, I'm sure." Then she glanced over at Harve, whose face went gray. "But there are some men who insist on keeping their amateur status, no matter what."

Connie made note of the look that passed between Harve and Irene, and suddenly she thought she understood better what was happening. Irene was trying to make Harvey jealous! The way she fawned over Paul was meant to jolt him into marriage. Either way she couldn't lose, because if Harvey refused to get mad enough to marry her, at least she could still have fun with Paul! Connie fumed at the thought.

Paul laughed again, a little hysterically, and poured another belt.

"Shouldn't we have some music?" Connie spoke out innocently, putting her plan of revenge into action.

She wanted to make Paul squirm, to drink in his nervousness and repay him for the jealousy and hurt she had suffered. She wanted to watch him wriggle on the hook, caught between the adoring, hungry eyes of Irene and the knowing, cold gaze of Connie. Also, admittedly, she felt a little turned on by Harve's presence, and the memory of his huge prick between her tits. If Paul only knew! Wouldn't he be as hurt and shocked as she had been?

"You're the one who likes music, aren't you?" She found herself smiling at Irene, and looked down at her empty hand. "Oh, Paul forgot to give you a drink. And you have to drink up, or this won't be a party! Paul, give Irene a glass while I put on some music, won't you?"

"I really shouldn't . . ." Irene began, but a small guiding push of Connie's hand sent her gliding toward Paul.

Harvey looked on in silent laughter, and Connie caught herself winking at him brazenly as she put a batch of records on. He knew how she felt. He had seen her shame and disgrace, and he knew that a sweet yearning for revenge was running through her mind.

And since Harvey didn't mind, why should she?

Soft music filled the living room, and Connie swayed innocently to it, knowing that Harvey's horny eyes were glued to her shifting asscheeks in the tight fabric of her slacks. She turned to see Paul watching her in glazed confusion, while Irene sipped the drink he had given her and stared blatantly at his cock.

"Now, that's no way to celebrate!" Connie hurried up to the couple and grabbed the Scotch bottle, refilling both their glasses and then pouring herself a shot. Holding her glass up in Irene's face, Connie purred. "As hostess, I'd like to make a toast just for us girls. To men ... to sweet, wonderful, thoughtful men!" She clicked Irene's glass and raised her own to her lips. "Drink up, dear. You have to drink to a toast like that!"

Irene hesitated, then smiled warmly. "All right. To men." And she drained her glass.

"Who wants to dance?" Connie asked quickly. "Paul . . . darling ... I know Irene would like to. Wouldn't you, dear?"

"Look ..." Paul began angrily, but Irene was already nodding her head, unaware of Connie's malicious manipulations.

"Come on, Paul," Irene urged with a glance in Harvey's direction. She set her glass down and held her hands out to him as her hips shifted in rhythm to the music.

Paul's face burned. He glared at Connie, gulped his drink down, and took Irene in his arms. "All right. What the hell." He laughed humorlessly, puzzling Irene as they embraced and moved across the floor.

Then Connie turned to Harve. "Come on, Harvey. You're not going to spoil the party, are you?"

Harvey, who had been taking it all in with a smirk, grimaced and shook his head, patting the seat beside him. "Haven't you started enough trouble tonight? We'd better just sit this one out and see what happens."

Connie shrugged and sat down beside him. She noticed the forgotten drink in her hand, and with a deep breath drained it, then shuddered at the awful taste.

In the center of the living room, Irene wrapped her arms around Paul's neck and rotated her hips against his in a slow-motion dance while he tried drunkenly to keep in step. The alcohol was having its effect on both of them, and with each movement she pressed herself closer, until her jutting mammoth tits mashed against his chest and heaved up from the low cleavage of her dress. She rested her head at Paul's neck, and Connie caught a glimpse of perfect white teeth that flashed as Irene nibbled and kissed his neck.

Paul reeled against her, overwhelmed by the demanding presence of this woman whose cunt-odor was still on him, yet still aware that his wife was watching him knowingly.

Suddenly, torn by guilt and the growing bulge in his cut-offs, he pushed himself away and wiped at the sweat on his forehead. "Oh, Christ," he said in a cracked whisper, "I need another drink."

Irene watched him scurry to the Scotch bottle that rested on the living room bar, but didn't stop the swaying movements of her body, as though hypnotized by the music.

Connie saw that the alcohol was taking effect, and said briskly, "Don't you think Irene has such a perfect body for dancing? I only wish mine were so beautiful. I'd never hide it!"

Irene seemed not to hear, but her hands slid down the swell of her tits and over her twisting rounded hips.

"And she does it so wonderfully . . . like an expert!" Connie exclaimed with pure, sweet sincerity. "Don't you just wish you could see more ... if she would only let us?"

All three of them looked at her in surprise.

"Connie!" Paul burst out. "What the hell Irene had turned slowly, examining Connie's smiling face, and then flickered her own brief smile of realization. "Very well, if that's what you want. I have no objections." Then she reached around and unzipped the green dress all the way down, displaying the rippling muscles of her back down almost to the crack of her ass. Like Connie, Irene wore no underwear, and as she shrugged out of the shoulders of her dress, Paul stared dumbfounded.

Irene shifted before him to the slow music, and her hands pushed the dress down until her straining tits leaped free practically in his face, their inch-long nipples standing out pink and yearning. Paul watched with a drink halfway to his lips as she pushed the dress down her hips, and the dark little pit of her navel made wild mesmerizing gyrations. She turned her back to him, luxuriating in his drunken horny gaze, and slipped the dress slowly down until her asscheeks jutted out naked and firm-the same cheeks that had sheathed his pounding cock that morning. Then she turned back again and let the front of the dress slip over her glossy thick black cunt-curls, letting each wiry raven lock spring free of its own accord until her matted triangle of fur writhed beneath his stare. Then Irene let the dress slip to the floor, and she stood completely nude before her audience, swaying freely, without embarrassment, to the music.

Irene's drunken sexy dance had an unexpected effect on Connie. At first she had watched with malicious glee at Paul's confusion of emotions, but her gaze kept turning back to Irene's luscious sensual dance. As Irene's dress fell in a pile to the floor, Connie felt her cunt beginning to cream. She had to admit, Irene's black-muffed body was gorgeous. As she swayed and gyrated before them, even Connie was forced to watch. Irene's every movement, every rounded bump of her hips and jiggle of her bare tits, was sexual and alive in a way that made Connie envious.

How could she blame Paul for staring? How could she blame Harvey's heavy rasping breath as he squirmed beside her? Irene was so sexy! Why, if she'd been a man right now, her own palms might be itching and her cock burning with desire! Could she blame either of them?

As though fully knowing the effect she had, Irene's dance grew wilder and uninhibited. Like a belly dance, she rotated her hips before Paul, and her hands cupped her full tits and pushed them out even further, offering them to him. Paul licked dry lips, oblivious to even Connie's presence.

Connie gasped as Irene's rigid dark nipples brushed against Paul's wetted lips and drew back teasingly when his mouth opened automatically to receive them. So intently was Connie watching that she hardly noticed when Harvey's arm slipped about her shoulders.

Irene swayed forward, poking her huge boobs into Paul's face and pulling them back again, out of his reach. She taunted him, touching her long nipples and making them leap before him. She drank in his torment, and the sweet scent of her creaming pussy filled the room as she tweaked her nipples, then lifted one large breast to take the hard bud between her lips, making Paul watch as she sucked and licked her own delectable tit.

The smell of her own cunt juice drove her wild with lust, and cream dribbled down her thighs, making them glisten. She stared down at the bulge in his cut-offs, and her hand dipped to touch it, then drew back teasingly, only to dance in again, plucking at his zipper.

Before Paul knew it, his pecker leaped out hungrily, throbbing for the woman who weaved in front of him.

Connie shuddered with her own burst of cunt juice at the sight of his reddened hard prick, and the salty aroma of her own juices mingled with those of Irene. Beside her, Harvey made a strangling sound in his throat, and she glanced down to see that his monstrous cock was also growing hard, like a fat sluggish snake waking and slithering from its hiding place, until it poked its ugly huge head out of the leg of his orange Bermudas, quivering. The sight took Connie's breath away, and only the sudden abandon of Irene's dance could tear her eyes from it.

Irene was sweating now with exertion and horniness. She was doing a slow, sensuous bump against Paul's hard cock, first brushing her hip against it, then the cheeks of her ass, then her thick-furred slobbering cunt, then crouching to let it rub between her dangling tits, then touching it to her hot lips. She pushed herself against it, dancing away each time he made a move to reach for her.

Paul let himself be taunted as Irene's hands slid from her tits down to her wet cunt and parted her gushing pussylips to let him see how pink and wet and lovely her cunt was. Her thumb eased back the inflamed hood that hid her hard clit, and a finger rolled the jutting lovebud around, making her hips twitch in ecstasy. As Paul stared, Irene's fingers slid over the length of her parted cuntlips, then darted into her hole-first one, then a second and third, until all four fingers were jammed into her cunt and her thumb was pressed to her clit lovingly. Irene heaved against her hand in a frantic dance, jiggling and bouncing as her fingers pumped in and out, and juice flowed down her hand.

Paul continued to stare, his body knotted with lust.

Connie's own hips were twitching in rhythm to Irene's as cream stained her white slacks, and she felt one of Harvey's hands sneaking over to fondle her braless tits. The mere touch of his fat, horny hands on her nipples sent fire searing through her, and tremors surged throughout her cunt and his thick rough fingers began to carefully unbutton her blouse. She knew she should stop him; Harvey had no right to take advantage of her like this. But she knew that she didn't want him to stop.

Now Irene's eyes glazed as she jabbed her fingers mercilessly in and out of her gaping twat, and suddenly she began to roll her head, still staring at Paul's aching prick.

"Oh baby," she gasped, "you sweet little hung prick ... oh ... oh .. . oh, God, I'm coming! Make me come, baby!" She wriggled and bounced before him, fastened on the sight of his throbbing pecker. "Oh, fuck me, you bastard! Can't you see . . . shove it up my twat . . . ohhh!"

She writhed and jammed her entire hand into her stretched pussy, and that broke the spell for Paul. He lurched forward, grinning with sudden cruel lust, and unexpectedly caught Irene's slithering wet hand and shoved it even farther up her, making her cry out. Paul couldn't help himself; caught up in his own hunger and the overpowering possession of her, he laughed at her pain.

"You want it, baby?"

"Yes!" she cried. "Yes, you beautiful bastard . . . yes, yes!"

He jammed her hand up her cunt harshly, and Irene sobbed, biting her lip. But Paul knew that she was loving every minute of it, the way she had this morning. She wanted it like this, like a cruel battle between them. She had taunted him purposely, just for this reaction. And, he was discovering to his own surprised satisfaction, he enjoyed it as much as Irene. To be able to really let himself go, do whatever he wanted, to fuck her or hurt her or piss on her as he pleased, to degrade and abuse that perfect tanned body and to have her beg for more!

It was a dream come true, and Paul responded eagerly.

"Just how bad do you want it?" he demanded, twisting his hand violently, making Irene cry out again as her pink cuntlips stretched farther. "Bad enough to pay? Fifty, a hundred dollars?"

"Goddamn you, yes!" she cried out, her eyes glinting with secret pleasure under her mask of pain.

Paul slapped her. Her head rolled back, and raven hair flew across her shoulders. A gush of cream shot down her hand and over Paul's fingers, and when she turned back, she was actually smiling!

"Fuck me," Irene whimpered. "Jam your cock into me, do anything, but fuck me!"

Paul knew he had to have her now. He jerked her hand out of her cunt and kicked Irene's feet from under her, making her fall in a gasping heap. Then, in one swift motion, he pulled her legs up and draped them over his shoulders, then rammed his prick into her glistening cunt. The sheer touch of Paul's prick inside her made Irene come, and she sobbed with pleasure as he rocked forward until her joints popped and her knees grazed the floor beside her head. He rocked back and forth, the entire weight of his body cramming his cock deep into her, and Irene sobbed for breath as she came again and again.

Donnie was entranced by the sight at her feet. She could feel the weight of Paul's cock as if she were the one beneath him, not Irene. She gasped as he rocked forward, slamming his prick ever deeper. She creamed at the lolling expression of joy in Irene's face.

Harvey's hands undid the last button of her blouse, and Connie shrugged it off, not taking her eyes from the scene before her, not even as Harvey's head came down to nuzzle her rigid nipples, and horny noises rose from his throat. Connie had never seen such utter abandon on Paul's face, and for the moment she could no longer even feel jealousy.

She could only feel longing for him-a terrible, yearning hunger.

Harvey reached for the waistband of her slacks, and Connie knew she had to stop him. But the itching and creaming of her little cunt kept her from pulling away. As he bent over her, his fat hot prickhead nudged her leg, and she wanted so much to reach out and grab it!

Slowly he forced her slacks down. Connie's hips arched as they slid down her petite ass and the first crisp blonde cunt hairs popped free, making horny old Harvey chuckle. He tugged, and they slid farther, displaying the sopping clustered fur of her cunt. The air filled with her cuntbreath, and wonderful heat burned through her twat as the slacks slid down to her knees, then her feet.

Harvey pulled them away entirely, then tugged off his Bermuda shorts. Sitting there with his obscene hairy belly hanging down and his thin white legs bare, he might almost have been a funny sight.

Almost, but not quite.

That jutting cock that waved straight up in the air-it had to be over a foot long and at least three inches thick, Connie was sure. The sight of that hungry cock looming above his giant sweaty fuzzy balls kept her from laughing.

He was still chuckling as she gazed down at his throbbing snaky-veined hugeness. "You like it, don't you?" he said in a husky voice. "You like to look at it, to imagine it sliding into your sweet little cunt. I know what you want. You want to touch it again, the way you did this morning. And that's okay, because it likes to be touched. Go ahead."

He guided her hand to his cock, and for the second time that day Connie felt it pulsating in her palm. She gasped at the size of it-she could hardly get her hand around it! She slid her fingers up its length, trailing them along its winding veins, and rubbed them over its giant knobby head, making Harvey squirm.

So big-so hot!

Irene cried out, dragging Connie's attention away. She looked around to see that Paul had turned around inside her so that he rested on the backs of her thighs with his cock buried in her cunt. As Connie watched, he clutched the cheeks of Irene's parted ass and eased himself back until she was almost curled into a ball and his taut ass hovered above her face.

"Lick my ass!" he commanded, digging his fingers into her skin to keep his grip. "Lick it clean, bitch!" And he slapped one of Irene's asscheeks.

Gasping, crying out in pain and lust, she struggled to strain her head up, but couldn't quite reach Paul's ass. Her tongue flicked out, barely brushing his wiry hairs.

"Lick it, I said!" And with that, he slapped her again and again, until her asscheek was red and flaring.

By some inhuman effort, Irene strained harder and her tongue darted into his crack. Paul laughed evilly as the beautiful woman sunk her tongue up his ass, and he began to rotate Irene's hips, making her pink wet asshole wink.

Connie discovered that her hand was pumping frantically on Harvey's cock, and one of his big hands was entangled in her hair. Slowly he forced her head down.

"That's good, baby, real good. Now, you want to suck it, don't you? A delicate little mouth like yours hasn't ever tasted a really big cock before, and you're curious to find out, so here's your chance. That's it, Missy, just kiss it a little first . . . get used to it."

Connie couldn't believe she was really doing it. She was actually kissing the head of another man's cock! The other things hadn't seemed so bad-Harvey had already seen her nude, so that didn't really bother her very much; pumping his cock with her hand hadn't been such a terribly evil thing either, and that time when he had fucked her little tits-well, she had been dazed and confused, hadn't known what was doing. But this! Now she was aware, in control of herself, and she was kissing his gigantic pecker! And she liked it!

Connie kissed his ugly cockhead, ran her tongue over his little pisshole and tasted a drop of salty liquid there. She ran her lips over it, entirely, and she felt waves of cream gush from her cunt at its huge hardness. She heard her own small moans of pleasure and didn't resist as Harvey pushed her down on the divan and twisted around to admire her smooth white body. He sat on the edge of the divan, letting Connie taste his big cock, and his hand wormed its way down to her parted thighs, rippling over her tickling cunthairs to slide down the wet lips of her pussy. Connie's body surged up at his touch, and her moans turned to whimpers as one of his fat fingers plunged inside her cunt. Instantly, she began to writhe, and his finger worked into her tightness and began to pump like a little prick.

Now she licked and kissed his oversized cock in earnest and heard Harve's grating voice: "You really want to suck it, don't you? You want to wrap your lips around it and suck it all in, just as if your hot little mouth was a twat. You want to taste jism between your lips, to feel it spurt over your tongue and slide down your throat ..."

Connie couldn't stop herself. From between Harvey's skinny legs she could see Paul twisting around once more to face Irene, his ass gleaming with her saliva. He grabbed her behind the knees and rocked all the way forward, until Irene's legs touched the floor and her pink asshole gaped open as wide as Connie's little cunt. Connie's mouth stretched to its limits to take in the sensitive head of Harvey's prick, and his finger quickened its pace in her cunt, while his thumb began to twiddle her hard clit. Connie wanted to cry out at his thumbing, but that big pecker slid another inch into her mouth, making her gag.

Harvey eased his cock in and out of her sucking mouth, each time forcing it deeper. His finger dug into her sopping little cunt, and his beady eyes were glued to her twat-muscles, gripping it inside her. Bursts of cream flowed out onto his hand.

Faster and faster he drove his finger into her, and Connie sucked greedily as her hands jerked his rigid prick in growing hunger.

Irene sobbed as Paul rotated his full weight on her oozing cunt, and his feet left the floor as he jammed completely into her in precarious balance, making her thighs sag to touch her shoulders. Then she stopped sobbing-or making any sound at all. Her feet flopped lifelessly against the floor and a small trickle of saliva ran from her lips as she sank into an utter oblivion of climaxes, one on top of another like one tremendous, endless orgasm, making her come unceasingly from the wonderful thrust of the huge cock that was crammed into her.

Paul's writhings grew fiercer, and his breath came short and grunting.

Connie's head reeled with dizziness as almost half the length of Harvey's monstrous prick was jabbed down her throat, and her hips pumped eagerly to grind her cunt against his hand and feel his finger wriggle inside her.

Suddenly it all happened at once. Harvey groaned, and searing jism spurted into Connie's mouth, all the way to the back of her throat and up her nose, load after load of it streaming to fill her, making her swallow again and again to keep from choking on it. Harvey's load of cream muffled her cries, and his finger dug violently into her cunt, making sudden spasms arc through her body in wonderful waves of orgasm. She pulled her head away from his spurting cock to cry out, smashing her little clit against his palm in the throes of climax, her wide staring eyes fastened on Paul as he gave one final groaning lunge, shooting his white cum deep into Irene's thrashing cunt.

Irene screamed then-one long piercing wail of satisfaction. Paul slid from her body in a drunken, drained stupor and passed out, but still she screamed as his hot cum churned inside her, her pink soaked cunt gaping in the air.

Harve removed his finger and stood over Connie, holding his huge still-rigid pecker in his hands. "And now, Missy, you want to be fucked by this big cock, don't you?"

Connie stared up at his dripping prick, and sudden fear clutched her. So big! Oh, God, no! She looked wildly to Paul, but he was totally oblivious.

And there stood that monstrous prick, looming above her face with a big white dribble of cum still clinging to it, ready to sink into her cunt without mercy. Suddenly Connie realized what she had done. It had all started because of Paul's unfaithfulness and her jealousy, and now here she lay, ready to let another man fuck her! Connie gasped and dragged herself from the divan, fighting back her own surge of renewed desire as Harvey's cock continued to throb.

His face split into a big grin. "Don't fight the feeling, Missy. You know you want it."

"No," she whispered, horrified at her own yearning. "No, Harvey, I ... I can't ... oh, God ... oh, what've I done?"

"What's the matter, Missy?" Harvey's grin widened. He nodded over at Paul, who lay unconscious, and at Irene, who slumped in joyful oblivion. "Do you think they'd care right now? You're not going to run out on me now, not while I've got your sweet little pussy just itching for some real meat, are you?"

Connie's eyes suddenly burned with tears, as much at the shameful truth in his words as at the shock and humiliation of what she'd let him do to her.

"Oh, no!" she cried, even as her traitorous little cunt itched and creamed. "No ... oh, God, no!"

Blindly, sobbing at her own degradation, she fled up the stairs, followed by Harvey's derisive laugh.