Chapter 8

When Connie awoke, she stretched sleepily, feeling the soft scratchiness of the bed-sheets beneath her nude body. Then the memories came flooding back, and she shuddered. Here she lay, still naked from last night's party, her delicate cunthairs clumped and matted from her own dried pussyjuice and the rank taste of Harvey's cum still in her mouth.

Connie wanted to gag at the thought. How could she have let Harvey do those things to her, when her only wish had been to torment Paul with his guilt-hadn't it?

Trying to push these thoughts out of her mind, Connie forced herself out of bed and showered the dirty feeling off her body-the memory of Harvey's hand digging at her cunt and his fat ugly cock spurting cum into her mouth. But it wasn't so much the things she'd let him do that she wanted to wash away. It was the things she wanted him to do!

Connie concentrated on the warm cleansing spray of the shower, soaping herself all over and letting the sudsy water run down the valley of her tits and stream down her thighs, making her young cunt feel clean and warm once more. It felt so good just to relax for a moment and shove away thoughts of horny old Harvey and his ugly cock, as well as her jealousy of Irene. It was wonderful to simply stand under the shower's comforting heat and forget that the past two days had ever happened, forget that somewhere within Paul lurked the man she really wanted.

By the time she finished her shower, Connie felt once more her old self. Slipping into shorts and a pale blue halter top, she went back into the bedroom and found Paul waiting for her.

The first glance that passed between them froze her, and it all came back in the wave of shame and humiliation that reflected in his hollow staring face. He had seen everything last night, knew what she had done with Harvey. And though he'd been too drunk and overcome by Irene's blatant sexuality to do much about it at the time, now Connie could see it all burning in the uncomfortable twitch of his face.

Paul opened his mouth, dropping his eyes from Connie's fearful gaze. "Connie She wanted to cry out. She wanted to run to him, sobbing, "Paul, oh, darling, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen like that!" She wanted to break down in his arms and cry-to beat her small fists against his chest for the way he had hurt her-to beg his forgiveness with her arms clasped about his knees.

But she did none of these things. Too ashamed to move, she simply stood numbly before her husband and waited.

Paul cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes. "Honey, I'm sorry. Christ, I feel awful! Did I make too big a fool of myself?"

"What?" At first Connie didn't believe what she was hearing. He was acting as if nothing had happened last night!

Paul blinked and gave a small shrug. "I mean, I didn't purposely set out to spoil the party. It was just that . . . well, hell, can you blame me for having a few too many? What the hell went on anyway? I remember dancing with Irene, and then she started some kind of striptease, and then . . . " he shrugged. "About then I must've dropped out completely. Sorry I embarrassed you, hon."

Anger coursed through Connie, an anger like nothing she'd ever felt before, mixed with just a slight twinge of relief. He couldn't remember! After all she'd gone through, watching him fuck Irene and letting Harve undress her and stick his gigantic cock in her mouth and almost letting him fuck her-and Paul didn't even know!

"Nothing happened," Connie heard herself saying in a soft voice, her body trembling with rage. "Nothing at all happened."

Paul put his hands on her arms, and stared down at her upturned face. "I really am sorry for everything, darling, and I'm going to make it up to you. Listen, I've got to go downtown and straighten out some things with my new office, but after that we'll talk, and I'll make things right. You just wait and see." He kissed her, and his hands ran down to fondle her haltered tits briefly. Then he went to shower, leaving Connie standing there, shivering with fury and hurt.

She fled downstairs, wanting only to escape Paul. Somehow his total ignorance of what she had done last night hurt her even worse than the fact that he had fucked Irene. If that was all he cared, maybe she should have let Harvey fuck her! Maybe she should have let his massive cock force its way into her cunt, tearing and ripping at her precious pit uncaringly. She had run away, driven by her faithfulness to a husband who enjoyed fucking Irene more than he did her!

And Paul didn't even care!

With quivering hands she poured herself a stiff Scotch and drained it, gasping and feeling her eyes well with tears as the liquor burned through to her stomach. But instead of making her giddy and warm, the shot cleared away the last cobwebs of the morning, pushing everything into sharp focus. And now Connie realized the truth-Paul didn't love her. Baring itself, the bitter truth made Connie bite her lip. How could he love her and still enjoy Irene's perfect body more than he had ever enjoyed hers? How could he love her and not even notice when another man crammed his cock into her mouth?

Numb with this realization, Connie poured another drink, went into the kitchen and sat at the dining table as though in a daze, not even answering when a few minutes later Paul called out, "Be back soon, darling!" and she heard the roar of the car as it pulled from the front curb and drove away.

As she sat, forcing herself to sip the bitter Scotch, wild incoherent thoughts merged, until at last she knew what she had to do. Finishing her drink-and fighting back the protest her churning stomach made-she stood, peeked out the curtained window to see that, as usual, Irene was sunning herself in the side yard, and strode angrily out the back door.

This morning, Irene was wearing a black mesh see-through bikini that was even skimpier than the one she had worn yesterday. She lay on her stomach with the top unfastened and beads of sweat making her skin shine. Purposefully Connie strode up, planted her hands on her hips, and spoke in a loud, clear voice.

"You can have him."

Startled, Irene looked up and recognized her. "Oh, hello, dear. I didn't hear . . ."

"You can have him," Connie repeated, feeling the words rush out in one huge burst. "It's you he really wants, not me. I saw it all, yesterday and last night, and I know you make him happier than I can so I'm giving him up. He's all yours, Irene. And I hope you're both very happy together!"

Irene took off her sunglasses, stared at Connie with her wide blue eyes, and spoke slowly: "What on earth are you talking about, Connie? Paul doesn't love me."

Connie's lips twisted bitterly as she looked down at the woman who had given Paul so much more pleasure than she could. "What's the use in pretending? I saw you! He never enjoyed me that way."

Irene gave a small knowing laugh. "Then why are you blaming us? Maybe you should be blaming yourself, dear."

Her words burned like acid. Connie gasped and released her breath in a hiss. "You . . . you sick bitch!" Then she turned and fled to the house, sudden tears blinding her.

"Connie!" Irene called out. "Wait! You don't understand."

Connie fled, followed inexorably by Irene's voice: "It isn't me he loves, don't you know that?"

She raced up the stairs to her bedroom, dimly aware that Irene was behind her. Connie fell across her bed, sobbing uncontrollably in mortification and from the effects of the Scotch, and she heard Irene's voice in the doorway, panting with exertion: "Don't you know why he can be himself with me? It's not me he loves! It's not me he puts up on some goddamned pedestal like . . . like some kind of fucking queen! So what if we had a couple of good fucking screws! I wouldn't even have gotten that much from him if you weren't such a prissy little cunt! And I'm fucking glad you are, because . . . because ..."

At these words, Connie raised her wet face to look at Irene, who stood in the doorway with her bikini top forgotten and her big gleaming jugs heaving as her voice choked. And suddenly Connie realized the truth, because Irene was crying, too.

"Irene ..." she whispered, stunned. "I thought . . . you and Harve ... I thought you were just trying to make him jealous and get your kicks at the same time. I wouldn't have believed . . . you're in love with Paul!"

Then, with sudden understanding reached between the two women Connie stretched her arms out, and Irene fell into them, sobbing as though a dam had burst inside her. Connie stroked Irene's hair in a sympathetic surge that was almost motherly, and a glowing rush of pleasure coursed through her as the beautiful Irene clutched her tightly and cried.

Her naked heaving tits pressed against Connie's haltered ones, their hard pointed nipples straining against hers in a demanding way that made Connie's face flush. Tenderly she stroked Irene's warm back, feeling the skin ripple beneath her fingertips.

"I'm so sorry, Irene. I just didn't even think that ... I mean, I thought Harvey ..."

Irene rose to face Connie, her face streaked with tears. "I thought so, too, until Paul. Now . . . now I just ... I just . . ." She broke out again and hugged Connie tighter, sobbing.

A totally new thrill raced through Connie. She had always felt so helpless and small next to Irene's sensual perfection, but now the tables were turned. Now she felt strong-wonderfully, glowingly strong, in complete control. Because now she realized that it was Irene who was helpless, who was in love with a man she could never really have. And this realization made Connie warm with tender forgiveness. She stroked Irene's hair, whispering, "It's all right. It's all right, dear, dear baby Irene ..."

Irene lifted her tear-stained face, and Connie kissed her. The kiss was meant to be a soft, comforting peck, but Irene's hot lips on hers abruptly sent an itching, creaming rush through Connie's cunt.

This was the woman responsible for all her pain and anger, the woman who had nearly stolen Paul from her, now so utterly and totally in her power . . .

Automatically, Connie's tongue darted between Irene's lips, flicking across her sharp white teeth, and without thinking the older woman's mouth opened to receive it even as she gave a little moan of surprise. What began as an innocent kiss suddenly grew fervent and demanding as their lips pressed together and the hardening nipples of Irene's huge tits burned into Connie's smaller ones. Connie had never felt this kind of turn-on before, didn't know anything like it could even exist. But her cunt was suddenly on fire as she sat at the side of the bed with this other woman in her arms, this husband-seducer whose slick tongue darted into Connie's mouth with surprised but eagerly growing response.

Quickly Irene's tongue grew demanding, and her arms slipped around to encircle Connie. Caught up completely in this new wave of emotion, Connie felt herself unable to resist, even when she felt her halter being unsnapped and tugged down over her arms. Irene moaned with lust as she jabbed her tongue fiercely down Connie's throat, lapping at her sweet rippling skin while she pulled the halter free, crushing Connie's naked little tits to her own. Slowly she eased the small blonde back on the bed, and Connie squirmed as Irene's fingers plucked at her erect nipples and made them strain to be kissed.

Connie knew this shouldn't be happening, but she couldn't seem to find the strength to stop it. It made her so tingly to have Irene's fingernails tease and tweak her taut little tits, to feel Irene's dangling long-nippled jugs pressing against hers. She couldn't help it as her hands went out to clasp them, to cup their lovely hugeness and rub her palms to their jutting pencil-nub nipples.

Irene gasped as Connie's hands fumbled eagerly with her boobs, and she hovered above the pretty young blonde, smiling. "You like them, don't you? Mm, it feels so good to have them touched and admired by another woman, just the way I like to admire yours. Oh, they're so delicate and perfect, your little titties are so wonderful. I just want to kiss them! Wouldn't you like to kiss mine, too?"

And before Connie could answer, Irene shrugged her chest muscles, making one of her luscious huge tits dangle right across Connie's lips. Its big brownish nipple prodded, and before she knew it the long hard bumpy point popped right into her mouth. Connie rolled it against her tongue, and Irene made a sound of pleasure. Her nipple tasted salty with sweat, and Connie found herself licking and sucking it, her cunt creaming with Irene's each new moan of pleasure.

"Ahh, that's so good!" Irene gasped as she wriggled, and her bikini-clad hips ground against Connie's. "It feels wonderful to be tasted by another woman. Oh, oh, yes, that's Irene's sweet, good little girl."

Connie was sucking furiously, urged by her moans. Irene's pelvis bounced up and down against hers, rubbing Connie's wet cunthair beneath her shorts. She could smell the acrid odor of both their delicious cream-pumping twats, and that made her suck even harder.

"Oh, God, yes!" Irene cried. "Oh, baby girl, you're making me come! I never . . . uhh, never thought just having my . . . nnn ... my tits sucked could . . . aaannhh!"

Irene was grinding her cunt fiercely against Connie's now. Suddenly, panting, she pulled her beautiful big breast out of Connie's mouth with a slurpy plop.

"Ahhh, I can't stand it any more! I've just got to taste you now!"

And with that, she ran her lips down Connie's throat to her little tit-buds, flicking her tongue roughly over them both, squeezing and sucking and nipping them. And this time it was Connie's turn to gasp at this new sensation of having another woman's mouth giving her pleasure, licking and teasing her little boobs in a sensuous way that no man could have.

Irene played with Connie's tits until they were rosy and flushed, then ran her lips down along the slim younger girl's belly, pausing long enough to dip into her navel, until Connie was squirming. Then she moved lower, slowly twisting her body as she did, until her own thighs rested beside Connie's head. She fumbled at the blonde's shorts, unfastened and unzipped them, and her hands slid them down over Connie's legs, letting them fall to the floor.

The delightful aroma of Connie's arousal wafted up to her nostrils, and the bride's slim legs parted, displaying the pink petals of her wet drooling cunt.

Irene gasped at its perfection. "So beautiful," she whispered just barely loud enough for Connie to hear. "So lovely, just like a dewy flower. So hungry and yearning to be plucked by someone who knows how. it's so perfect and delicate, so . . . beautiful!"

And then her tongue was plunged between the lips of Connie's creaming slit.

Connie had never known such a delicious surge of juicy pleasure. Irene knew just what to do. Her tongue circled and teased her hooded clit, driving her wild with ecstasy. It slid up and down her sweet pussy lips, gathering and swallowing the precious juices as they flowed. She could feel Irene's cream-slicked face sinking deeper and deeper into her hole, could feel Irene's long silky black hair spreading over her thighs like a luxurious ticklish blanket. Her cunt jerked up to meet Irene's probing tongue, and her arms wrapped tight around Irene's waist as the older woman licked the unending fountain of her straining cunt.

Suddenly Irene somehow made her tongue thicker and harder, and it began to push into Connie's hole like a fat wet prick, parting her hot cuntlips and spearing into her. A wave of lust made Connie give a small cry and encircle Irene's head with her thighs as Irene pushed her tongue in and out just like a man's hard cock, making her writhe and twist in gasping oblivion.

Without knowing it, Connie clutched Irene's body tighter, and the older woman's bikinied muff pressed against her. Inadvertently Connie turned her head and found herself facing Irene's bikini-clad crotch. The aroused odor that leaked from it almost made Connie faint from sudden desire, and before she knew what she was doing, her hands slid under the firm elastic buttons and began to tug them off. Irene moaned her approval, and her prick-tongue began to slide in and out of Connie's aching cunt faster and harder.

Slowly the bikini bottoms slid down, and Connie gasped as the first glistening wet black curls poked free. She kissed them, and felt their springy bristly wetness on her lips as Irene tongue-fucked her harder and harder, making her hips twitch and strain. By now she was totally oblivious to all but that driving tongue and the sudden appearance of Irene's cunt before her as the bikini slid free. Irene's thick muscular thighs parted, and her lovely pink hole opened, slick with gushing, musky cream. Once again Connie marveled at Irene's taut thick clit. It stood up so rigid, just like a little prick.

She couldn't have stopped herself even if she'd wanted to. Irene's beautiful pink wet canyon split the thick black forest of her cunt with mesmerizing perfection, and her tongue fervently pumped into Connie faster than ever, licking up each fresh gush of cream as it came. Connie bent forward, drinking in the wonderful pussy-smell of another woman, and her small tongue flicked out to brush Irene's clit.

And that mere touch drove Irene wild. She plunged her tongue unmercifully into Connie's cunt, heaving and gasping and whimpering as Connie licked and sucked at her big clit, her little lips wrapped around it and slurping up the heady juice that drooled from the depths of her pit. Connie's soft white hands raced across the rippling flesh of Irene's asscheeks and found her winking asshole. Vaguely, in her daze, she remembered that Irene liked to be ass-fucked, and one of her little fingers toyed with the moist puckered hole and slid into it.

Irene's moans became tiny muffled screams of pleasure as Connie's finger began to slip in and out of her shitter in rhythm to her fucking tongue.

Together, the two women writhed and clutched each other, lapping at juices and digging their tongues into each other's cunts. Connie had never felt a thrill like this before, would never have believed herself capable of such a thing.

Suddenly Connie jerked her head away long enough to scream, "Oh fuck me, fuck me! I'm coming . . . oh . . . ohhh . . ."

And then Irene's cunt leaped to her face again, and climax after climax swept through Connie as her hot little tongue gouged in and out of that sweet hole.

Then Irene pushed her head away and crammed three thick fingers into Connie's juicy pussy, and she was crying out just the way she had those times when Paul fucked her: "Oh, sweet baby girl! Oh, oh, yeah . . .oh, gaaaaa ..." Her fingers plunged in and out of Connie, and both women came in a swirling series of climaxes, until both were sobbing and drained.

Then, weakly, Irene twisted around and lay atop Connie, pressing tits and cunts together, and they kissed deeply, mingling cunt-cream and saliva. Gently Irene stroked her long blonde hair and lay with her head buried in Connie's neck.

"Sweet, sweet girl. I love your little cunt. I absolutely love it! And you love mine, don't you?" She nuzzled Connie's neck and sighed.

"Well, well!" came a voice from the doorway, startling them both.

Irene jerked up. "Harvey!"

He stood there grinning, rubbing the bulge beneath his dirty Bermudas and taking them both in with his beady eyes. "Now I see why no one was answering doors this morning. And wouldn't old Pauly like to be here to see this."

Connie stared, dazed and uncomprehending. But Irene understood and flared angrily: "You wouldn't dare tell him, you . . . you horny bastard!"

"Oh, wouldn't I?" smiled Harvey, showing his yellow teeth. Then he shrugged and reached down to undo his Bermuda shorts. "Well, maybe I won't. If a couple of certain cunts can change my mind, that is."

Then Connie understood, too.