Chapter 10
To everything, there is a beginning and an end. A new day was coming and a kind of stark, gray, revealing light was sifting through the window and illuminating the bedroom and its naked occupants. Anne had crouched, watching, as the two men fucked Donna right through her long shuddering jerking cum until they both came in her cunt and anus with hoarse shouts. She had watched Jim's body tense, shudder, watched his back arch and then saw him collapse and roll off Donna.
Donna was unconscious and stayed where she was until Phil's cock deflated enough for him to shove her off with his last remaining ounce of strength and the three of them sprawled in the casual poses of complete exhaustion. Donna, Phil, and Jim all slept the deep sleep as Anne crouched over them, trembling with desire. She tried to suck Jim's cock erect but to no avail. No matter what she did, he wouldn't respond. Frantically, she turned her efforts to Phil, crouching over him and holding his big penis in the flat of her hand. She licked and sucked it. Again, nothing worked. At last, with a heavy sigh, she slumped back and looked at them.
She felt no urge to make love to Donna. That was only thrilling when the men were watching. No, she wanted to be fucked more, she wanted both men to fuck her at once. She shuddered once again, thinking about it. It was so exciting to be so dominated and humiliated. Having watched Donna, she knew it was the most exciting thing of all. Donna's orgasm seemed to have lasted for long minutes at a time. Anne clenched her teeth. More than anything, she wanted that to happen to her. She slumped next to Jim, exhausted, frustrated, wanting to sleep but unable to.
Earlier, Frank had struggled to his feet and folded the ladder then staggered through the sand, his pants still unzipped. It seemed much harder walking now than before. It was true that earlier he had something to move for and he wasn't so tired. Now, like Anne, he was tired and frustrated. He thought of going home to his wife and bed and he hoped that she was asleep so that she wouldn't start in and drive him nuts with questions about where he had been. On another level, he hoped that she were awake, that he could, in some way, find the courage to describe to her all that he had seen, that he could, in some way, show her some of the pictures he had taken of the Colemans and the Blockers, that she would become aroused, excited, that he could have his own little orgy right at home.
He put the ladder in the back of the truck and made a face. Fat chance of that happening. Fat chance of anything exciting or worthwhile happening to Frank Delasandro. It was the same old story; the rich get richer, you can look, but don't touch. No, he shook his head, women like Mrs. Blocker and that Coleman woman weren't for him.
He clenched his fists. Not up until now, they weren't. He raged inwardly. They were nothing but sluts, whores. They behaved like sluts in the bedroom and like the snottiest of snobs when they were ordering him around. He sometimes looked at them and wondered if they realized he knew what they really were ... sluts!
Frank got in the truck and sat looking at the Blocker beach house feeling tired and frustrated and angered. A thin smile creased his Italian face. This time things would be different. He had a plan, he had a plan and all it needed was for him to have the nerve. He had to develop the film he had taken and then put the plan into effect. It was all there, in his head, all clear and precise as to what he would do. He would bide his time, first of all, see how things went between the couples, then, then, he would approach Phil Blocker.
The thought filled him with dread. Blocker was no dumbbell and he was well built, much bigger than Frank. He would have to watch his step with Blocker but he was the one to approach. He obviously ran the foursome. Might as well approach him. Convinced Blocker and everything else would be easy.
He started the truck motor and drove slowly along the road, looking out to sea when he was past the dunes and seeing a streak of light on the horizon. Silently, he rehearsed what he would say if his wife was awake.
"So? Where were you?"
"Don't ask."
"Where were you?"
"Look, whatta want from me?"
"Who were you out with?"
"Stop trying to break my balls."
"Ha! I knew it!"
"Knew what? Whatta I say? I said you shouldn't break my balls. Look, don't ask me, but I'm tired. I'm tired, I want to go to sleep!"
"Ha! Listen to him, after spending the whole night in bed with some hussy."
Then, at that moment, Frank determined he would hit her, belt her a good one. Then he would go to bed. He drove home grim-faced, anticipating a barrage of questions.
Back at the beach house, Anne got up and pulled her clothes on. She roused her husband out of his torpor and urged him to get dressed. Jim looked around, sleepy-eyed, and saw Phil and Donna in the cold light of dawn. His mouth tasted of stale booze and he was exhausted and slightly hung over. He got dressed, throwing his clothes on and the two of them let themselves out of the house and staggered through the sand toward their house not looking at each other.
They went right to bed, throwing off their clothes and crawling under the sheets without a word to one another. Jim felt his penis sore and every single muscle in his body seemed to be aching. Muscles he never knew he had were crying out. He sunk into a deep exhausted sleep with the thought that he had fucked enough to last him the rest of his life.
Anne, equally as tired if not more so-she had not slept when the others had dropped off-couldn't sleep. She drew the blinds so that the room was dark and lay down, hollow-eyed, grim-mouthed, staring up at the dark ceiling while listening to the deep regular breathing of her husband. Although she felt so tired, so exhausted, felt her nerves so frayed she could scream out in frustration and exhaustion, she could not sleep. There was too much, much too much, on her mind.
Across the way, the Blockers slept on their water bed, gently rocking, the movement of the water beneath them prompted by their slight movements. They slept deep and peaceful, lulled by the rocking motion like a boat tied up to a pier. Later in the day, toward sunset, Donna would wake and lie silent, thinking about all that happened and remembering what Phil had said about guilt and how guilt was the only thing keeping her in line, that without guilt, she could do what she pleased. She grinned and stretched luxuriously, her body supple, her breasts, high and jutting. She thought about the night before and a lewd smile was at the corners of her mouth. Staring off, remembering all that they had done, her hand stole to her breast and her fingers toyed with her nipple, teasing it into a bullet-like hardness. She thought of what she had done to Anne in front of the men. She had wanted to do it and ... she had enjoyed it. She had loved it!
So I'm bisexual, she thought. So long as Phil doesn't care ... She cupped her breast in both her hands and tilted it up, bending her head at the same time and letting her wet tongue rim around the nipple and finally taking the nipple in her mouth and sucking on it. Feeling herself getting aroused again, she thought of Anne.
Anne lay awake in her bed. There comes a time in everyone's life when they are alone, all alone, left to face themselves and what they've done. So it was, this night, with Anne. She couldn't sleep; smoking cigarettes and listening to Jim breathe deeply and occasionally snore, she more than once, as the morning wore on, looked at his hulking body next to her and hated him. How could he sleep so peacefully after what happened? Didn't he realize what had happened to them, didn't he know the consequences?
And what about herself? Anne's hands trembled as she lit another cigarette. In the last twenty-four hours, she had discovered things about herself she had never even suspected before. Prior to last night, if someone had even suggested she could have behaved in the way that she did, she would have been highly insulted and never speak to that person again, feeling that they were depraved and insane.
But, no, she had done all those things. It had been her, not somebody else, it had been her and she had reveled in it. In fact, she had been the most brazen of the four, leading the way in lewd conduct. Once past a certain point she had been swept along with it, enjoying it, loving it, ending up wishing for more! Once past that point, whatever it was, there was no turning back. None whatsoever. Once past that point, that social barrier, anything went and the more excessive it was, the more she liked it.
Then, too, she realized-lying on her back, heaving a big sigh that made her breasts just under the sheet jut up-that there was still no going back. It was too late. Never again would she be satisfied or fulfilled by having sex with just Jim in the old missionary position. Worse than that, she would never be satisfied with having sex with Jim alone no matter what he did to her.
No, she knew when they all passed out and she was left awake that she would want to have another orgy. She wanted another orgy in which two men fucked her at the same time. She lay on her back, her breath coming faster and an unholy desire sweeping through her body. She wanted two men fucking her with others watching them. She wanted what Donna had and more: she wanted people watching, taking pictures, caressing her. She wanted cocks in her hands and one in her mouth. She wanted to be so dominated and humiliated that she would lose all identity and have an orgasm that would last forever.
Never had she suspected the delights to be found in sex and a group orgy. Her mind raced over the names and faces of friends they knew and she found herself feverishly wondering how she would go about seducing them, getting them to have sex with her and Jim. She thought of several husbands she knew and tried to imagine having sex with them.
Then, when she was aroused, when the nipples of her breasts had hardened and become pointed, when her vulva, her vaginal lips had become swollen and extended, showing the moist slit of her cunt, she spread her legs and her fingers slid down over her delicately curved, silken stomach, she cried out, a low moan and near-sob and put her hands to her face.
She fought back tears, biting her lip. She was mad, she was insane. She had to be some kind of depraved animal to think the way she did. How did she know Jim felt the same way? How could she know what he felt? Supposing he lost all respect for her? Supposing her conduct made him hate and suspect her? Indeed, how could she think of their friends in such a lewd way? What would he think of her if she set about seducing his friends? Indeed, how could she face the Blockers again? She thought of the brutal, almost casual way, Phil Blocker had made love to her. Love? He had fucked her and her body shuddered and was aroused again at the memory.
And, too, there was Donna. How could she look her in the face again after the obscene, perverted things they had done together? What could she say to her? Her mind conjured up images of hardened lesbians she had seen in New York's Greenwich Village, and she didn't want to end up that way. No, in fact, the idea of lesbian behavior didn't strike her as desirable even now. Yet she knew, with a tremor of excitement and self-loathing, that she would perform such acts with Donna or any attractive woman if men were present. She knew she would do it because she knew, with a lewd instinct, that the sight of two women having sex aroused men. It aroused her, too, she actually enjoyed it tremendously so long as there were men watching.
Anne thrashed and writhed on her bed, trying to be quiet and not wake Jim. She got up and walked to the window and moved the drapes aside, looking out. Bright sunlight made her wince and look away. It was late afternoon by the position of the sun and in the Blocker house across the dazzling white sand all was quiet. Standing by the drapes, she realized she had the beginnings of a ragged headache and she went to the bathroom for an aspirin. Looking at herself in the mirror, stark-naked, she realized what a magnificent body she had. It had changed, in a subtle way. Her breasts were heavier, more full of syrup and they shook in an enticing way when she moved. She had more curves than before, her body looking ripe and soft and warm. Her buttocks seemed more full with the crevice between them deeper and more mysterious. Her stomach was voluptuous and her thighs full and swooping. She was an object of desire and when she moved, she discovered she was moving in a different way. It was subtle, supple and suggestive, but she now walked with her hips thrust forward, outward, as if she were offering her hot, moist vagina to whatever hand wanted to explore it.
She drank water, washing down the aspirin and, sighing heavily, walked back to the bed and lay down, again thinking of the night before and aghast at her actions. Beforehand, before they went over to the Blockers, she never suspected that she would be the one. Phil or Donna or even Jim, but never her. Yet she was the one. Out of the four, she had been the one who hungered for more, who wanted more and more sex heaped upon her. And, even now, with all her guilt and doubt and anxiety, she wanted more. If Jim should kick her out, she would go to the Blockers, offer them her body. She knew that she could never go back, never return to what she once was, that she would have to go on from here, from now. She knew that-no matter what the cost-she would go to another orgy. She knew that she would submit herself to another orgy regardless of Jim, regardless, even, of her own sanity. No matter what happened, she was going to expose her big, ripe, desirous body for men to adore, caress, excite, humiliate, and drive to wild depravity.
Anne Coleman, naked, lying in bed, looking much the same as she had the day before, yet being very different, lit another cigarette and thought of the future while Jim snored loudly.