Chapter 5
Ellen took a deep breath to steady her nerves before knocking on Marilyn's door. She had slept late this morning, and felt better physically than she had in more than a week, having enjoyed her first good night's sleep since moving into the cottage with Teddy. As soon as she got up, she ran to the kitchen, half certain that he would still be there, sleeping off the beer which he had swilled last night like some irresponsible teen-ager. But, miraculously, Teddy had managed to wake up in time, dress himself, and leave for the base without disturbing her sleep.
She thought about the way he had been acting and shook her head sadly. She was beginning to see him in a new light. The boy she had married was nothing more than a silly young kid, playing at being a man. He was more interested in his navy "buddies" than he was in his wife, preferring to spend his time with them than with her. And he had been treating his marriage like a plaything, a new toy which he could show off to his buddies. But his "buddy" game had finally backfired.
Ellen was still unwilling to face up to what she had permitted to happen out under the starry sky last night while Teddy slept in the kitchen. She didn't understand it and she wasn't yet sure that she was ready to try. Her attraction to Siegel was completely unexplainable. She hardly knew him. She wasn't even sure that she liked him. But when he took her in his arms and kissed her, she had been incapable of protest. It was as though her conscious mind had gone to sleep and her sense of right and wrong had been disconnected.
His hands on her breast, his lips at her nipples, and his fingers tenderly stroking the soft pink petals of her flowering pussy, had cast a spell over her which placed her in his power. Each time he touched her, he spoke to the most primal and basic needs of her body. And when she saw his cock-stiff and erect, hard and throbbing-she responded without thinking, guided by the age-old instinct which guarantees the propagation of the human species.
It was as though the scenes which she had witnessed through Marilyn's window triggered an upheaval beneath the surface of her being; an emotional revolution which raged inside her, working changes far too radical for her to comprehend. The sight of two naked girls running through a series of obscene poses for Ralph Bronson's camera had excited her, filling her with a burning, itching desire which she simultaneously feared and denied. But watching Marilyn cuddling, kissing, and caressing the photographer's cock just minutes after the models had gone taught her an important lesson: Her desires were natural, meant to be satisfied, not to be feared.
But the most important lesson of all had been the one that Siegel taught her several hours later. For he showed her that her desires could be satisfied, that the needs of her body could be fulfilled. Right or wrong, last night's incident had opened her eyes and expanded her mind. The only question which remained was how to deal with it.
It was becoming obvious that her marriage to Teddy was doomed to failure unless something happened soon to change his attitudes and round out his sexual education. For a while, she considered telling him about what happened and trying to make him understand the depth of her frustration, the extent of her desperation. But she realized that telling him would probably be an act of cruelty.
He wasn't-likely to understand, and confessing her infidelity would only hurt his pride and damage his boyish ego. But she had to tell somebody. It was just too much of a burden for her to carry alone. Although she hardly knew Marilyn, having spoken to her only a few times since moving in, she was somehow certain that the attractive redhead would be a discreet and understanding listener. So when she saw Ralph drive off alone in his car, about half an hour ago, she decided to come over and have a chat with her neighbor. But it had taken a while for her to build up the courage, and now that she was knocking on the cabin door, she was beginning to have second thoughts.
But before she could change her mind, the rustic wooden door swung open and Marilyn stood smiling before her. "Hi, Ellen," she said cheerfully. "Come on in and join me for a cup of coffee."
"Sure you're not busy?" Ellen asked politely.
"Not at all," Marilyn answered. "Ralph had to go into San Diego to see one of his publishers, and he probably won't be back until this evening. In fact, I was getting lonely. So it's good to see you."
"Thank you," said Ellen, stepping inside. She looked quickly around the living room while Marilyn went into the kitchen to pour coffee. Except for the bed, a small table, and two straight-backed chairs, the room was bare of furniture.
"Make yourself comfortable the best you can," called the redhead. "I'm afraid we're not really-equipped for company. We stay by ourselves most of the time, and the place looks more like a studio than a home."
"Yes," said Ellen, looking at the photographic equipment which ringed the bed. "I've been noticing all of these cameras and things."
Marilyn reentered the room carrying a tray containing two steaming cups of coffee, a sugar bowl, and a small creamer. Setting the tray down on the table, she said, "I guess you'll have to sit on the bed if you want to be comfortable. Don't pay any attention to the cameras and stuff. Ralph does most of his work right in here. And the bed is usually all the setting he needs." She sat down next to Ellen on the edge of the mattress and stirred her coffee.
"Oh, really?" Ellen said, anxious for a chance to find out what had led to the obscene performance which she observed through the window the previous morning. "What kind of pictures does your husband take?"
"Oh, Ralph isn't my husband," Marilyn answered, smiling. "I mean we're not married."
Ellen felt flustered. Apparently she had blundered. "Oh," she mumbled, trying not to meet her neighbor's eyes. "I'm sorry...."
"Sorry?" interrupted Marilyn. "About what? That we're not married. Don't be sorry about that. I'm not."
"No, I didn't mean that at all," Ellen sputtered, not exactly sure of what she meant. "I mean, I guess it's none of my business. I shouldn't have asked."
"Don't be silly," Marilyn said, her voice patient and gentle. "We're not ashamed of the way we live. We're not doing anything wrong. Ralph is a pornographer. And I help him. We take pictures of people having sex. And then we sell them to a publisher."
Ellen was startled by her neighbor's candor and frankness, first in confessing that she was not married to the man with whom she lived, and next in the casual way she described their occupation. Folks back in Davis simply didn't talk about such things. At least not to people they hardly knew. Marilyn's openness with her made her feel somehow closer to the attractive woman, and made her want to tell some secrets of her own. But, still, she couldn't bring herself to speak about the things which had been troubling her.
Marilyn, noticing the confused expression which flitted across her new acquaintance's face, said, "I hope I haven't shocked you by telling you these things."
"No," Ellen said, "you haven't shocked me. In fact, I find it very interesting. I've led a kind of sheltered life, I suppose. And I guess I'm sort of naive about sex and stuff like that. But I sure wish I wasn't. There are so many things I'd like to know. And I don't even know how to find out."
"Try asking me," Marilyn answered. "I'm certainly not naive. And if there's any question I can answer for you, I'll be glad to."
"All right, then," said Ellen hesitantly, looking at the floor as she spoke. "I do have a question. It's about a friend of mine."
Marilyn cocked her head to one side and looked at Ellen, quizzically. "About a friend?" she asked, her facial expression reflecting her doubt. "If we're going to talk frankly to each other, don't you think we should start by being completely honest?"
Ellen's face reddened and she tried to look away. But she couldn't resist glancing first into Marilyn's face. Marilyn's expression was gentle and her eyes held a look of tender understanding. She could see that her young neighbor was troubled. And she sincerely wanted to help. "I know it's hard to be completely honest about yourself and to face your feelings squarely," she said softly, "but once you do, things start getting better immediately."
Ellen bit her trembling lip. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and started to overflow them, running down her soft, white cheeks in a gushing torrent of emotion. Marilyn moved closer to her and put her arm around the younger girl's shoulders. Ellen began sobbing softly, resting her head on the softness of Marilyn's breast.
"Oh, Marilyn," she said, her voice halting and punctuated by choking sobs. "It's been going on all week. But yesterday was the worst of all. I came down here to talk to you, but you and Ralph were working." Her voice dropped to a near whisper as she struggled with her own feelings of guilt and shame before going on. "I peeked through your window and saw the girls posing naked on the bed. Oh, Marilyn. I don't know what to think." She was wailing now, no longer able to contain her desperation.
"Why did you stay outside?" Marilyn asked her. "You should have come in for a better look. None of us would have minded."
"I was afraid," Ellen answered. "I was afraid you'd think I was a peeping Tom." Then her voice dropped so low that Marilyn had to place her ear close to Ellen's lips in order to hear her. "Something happened inside of me," she said. "I don't know how to explain it. It was like a fire burning inside my body."
"What did you do about it?" Marilyn asked softly.
"I ran," Ellen answered, "as fast as I could. Back to my house. But it didn't help."
"Of course it didn't," Marilyn answered. "You can't run away from yourself. What you were feeling was sexual excitement. It's perfectly normal. Perfectly natural."
"But from watching girls?" Ellen asked. "Doesn't that mean that I'm perverted or something?"
Marilyn laughed, but not unkindly. "Of course not," she answered. "Watching those two turned me on too. In fact, the minute they left, I dragged Ralph into the sack for a quickie."
"I know," whispered Ellen, shutting her eyes tightly and shaking her head from side to side. "I came back and watched that, too." She was crying softly now, the dam which held back her emotions having been shattered completely, and the words flew from her like an ocean suddenly uncorked.
"And that's not all," she continued. "Last night while Teddy was sleeping, I let one of his buddies make love to me. And it was wonderful." She began now to tell her story, right from the beginning. She started with the week that she and Teddy had spent together at Momma's house after the wedding. She described in quick embarrassed phrases the way he climbed onto her and then rolled off a moment later with no apparent thought for her happiness or satisfaction. Then she spoke about the past week-the way he had been ignoring her, bringing his buddies home almost every night for dinner and beer. She told about his swift and abrupt rejection of her advances when they were alone together in their bedroom and about the frustration which built inside her, making her easy prey for Teddy's smoothly operating buddy from New York.
When she had finished, Marilyn said nothing, allowing the girl to cry for a while, her tears wetting the front of Marilyn's sweater. Then, shaking her head sadly, she whispered, "Oh, you poor kid. You feel so guilty. So ashamed. And there's no good reason for it."
"But what about yesterday," Ellen wailed. "I peeked at you and Ralph while you were making love. Aren't you angry at me?"
"Not at all," Marilyn said, stroking the girl's soft blonde hair. "In fact, I kind of wish I had known about it yesterday. Knowing would have made it more exciting."
Ellen looked up at her, her eyes sparkling with salty tears. "Really?" she said, incredulous. "Do you mean it?"
"Of course," Marilyn answered. "There's a little bit of voyeur, and a little bit of exhibitionist in all of us. That's why Ralph's pictures sell so well." Then, putting a conspiratorial tone in her voice, she asked, "Tell me. Did you like what you saw?"
"Oh, Marilyn," Ellen said, her voice breathy with awe. "It was wonderful. I'll never forget it. I think you've got the most beautiful body I've ever seen."
"Really?" Marilyn asked, sitting up and running her hands over the softly curving contours of her own bosom.
"Really!" Ellen answered. "Why, next to you, I feel like a scrawny little kid. Flat-chested. No ass. No real shape at all, to speak of."
"Nonsense," Marilyn answered, looking her friend over appraisingly. "I think you've got a very interesting body. There's something sexy about that slender, boyish look. Why do you think it's so popular among high-fashion models?" Then, running her eyes carefully over the front of Ellen's blouse, she added, "But there are a few things you could do to make yourself look better.
For one thing, why do you wear those tight bras all the time?"
"I don't know," Ellen answered. "I always have, that's all."
"Well it's time for a change," Marilyn said. "Let's start by getting rid of that harness." Matter-of-factly, she reached for the buttons at the front of Ellen's flannel, boy-cut blouse.
Before the younger girl realized what was happening, Marilyn had completely opened the front of her top and was pulling it over her shoulders. Ellen cooperated automatically, raising her arms to allow her friend to remove the blouse completely. As soon as it was off, Marilyn reached for the clasp of her bra. In a trice it was open, and the crisp white cups of the constricting undergarment were sliding from her small, funnel-shaped tits.
"See that," Marilyn said, cupping one of the fleshy cones in her hand. "You're not as flat-chested as you thought you were. I think there's lots of meat here." She squeezed gently as she spoke, to emphasize her words. Ellen was embarrassed at first, but her embarrassment soon gave way to another feeling. One which was becoming more and more familiar to her.
Her loins began to tingle with a shimmering heat which was rapidly spreading throughout her body. She felt her nipple stiffening to rake at the palm of Marilyn's hand, and looked down to see the rosy little point protruding from between Marilyn's fingers. The redhead moved her hand in a circle, rolling the rubbery nubbin of flesh between her index and middle fingers. Ellen bit her lip and sighed involuntarily. "Ooooooohhhh," she moaned. "I don't think you ought to do that." But deep down, she hoped that her red-haired neighbor would continue. The tingling sensation which had begun in her pussy was covering her body with gooseflesh. And her tits felt warm and liquidy, as though they were being bathed in heated oil.
Marilyn toyed lovingly with Ellen's tits, moving her hands from one to the other. With her fingers, she rolled and petted, stroked and caressed, applying that special knowledge that only another woman could have. Her fingers twisted Ellen's long cylindrical nipples gently, twirling and tweaking them until Ellen moaned again. "Ooooooooh," she said, "that feeeeeellllls soooooo gooooooooood."
"Of course it does," Marilyn answered. "It's supposed to. That's the way the human body is made. There's nothing to fear. And nothing to be ashamed of. You haven't done anything wrong. And you're not doing anything wrong now, either." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Why don't you just lean back and enjoy it?" Ellen sighed and lay back on the bed.
What started as a demonstration of how to dress more attractively had certainly gone far afield. And Marilyn, like her naive young friend, was fascinated with the erotic results. She wanted to go further, deeper. She liked the feel of Ellen's small but sharply pointed tits in her hand. It excited her in a strange new way. This was the first time she had ever had sexual contact with another girl, although she had thought about it often. It felt good, and she found herself becoming aroused more than she had in as long as she could remember.
"Would you like to hold me this way?" she asked, continuing to twist and roll the sensitive nipples of Ellen's creamy boobs. "I'd like it if you would."
Ellen said nothing and turned away, ashamed to meet her friend's glance. She wanted, more than anything, to hold Marilyn's firm and ample tits in her hand, to stroke and pet them the way her friend was caressing hers at this very moment. But she was afraid-embarrassed and ashamed of her own sexuality.
Taking her hands from Ellen's naked bosom, Marilyn gripped the border of her sweater and pulled the garment off over her head. Her breasts were full, round, and high-nippled, even without the support of a brassiere. Ellen watched them quiver from side to side as Marilyn tossed her sweater to the floor. Then, as the twin melons settled back into place, she reached tentatively for one of them, still unable to look her friend in the eyes. Compared to her own tits, the redhead's were mountainous. They were like tasty but forbidden fruits; ripe, sweet, and waiting to be plucked.
Ellen gasped involuntarily when her fingers closed experimentally over the resilient softness of Marilyn's pink-capped mountain. It felt even bigger than it looked. And the touch of its creamy smoothness against the perspiring surface of her exploring hand was kindling a fire in her pussy and generating a heat which threatened to melt her down and reduce her to a steaming puddle of flowing licentiousness. "Oooooooooohhhh," she sighed. "You feel so big. And so soft."
"Hmmmmmmm," Marilyn hummed with pleasure as Ellen's fingers traced the contours of her breast. The girl's whispered words of admiration sounded almost reverent, and they rang excitingly in the redhead's ears. Marilyn had never been worshiped before. "Hold them both," she implored, groaning as Ellen cupped her other breast in obedient response to her passionate supplication. Ellen's fingers were becoming bolder, meandering over the contoured surfaces of her swaying boobs like astronauts exploring the surface of the moon.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmm," crooned Marilyn as Ellen's inexperienced digits caressed her naked bosom, tweaking and petting the strawberry-sized nipples with obvious delight. She could feel the juices of her pussy flowing freely, seeping out from between the moist red flanges which guarded the entrance to her womb and dampening the crotch of her panties. She wore a long patchwork skirt which reached almost to the floor when she was standing. But as she sat, writhing under her new neighbor's erotic touch, it rode up to her waist, exposing her shapely legs and offering a glimpse of the shadowy triangle between her thighs.
Ellen looked down at Marilyn's pussy as she stroked and petted the woman's tits. The softness of Marilyn's body and the silky smoothness of her skin was having a calming effect on the young blonde's nerves, and, for the first time in almost two weeks, she felt truly relaxed. She wanted to hold her attractive friend's body close to her, and to snuggle securely in its warmth. And she wanted more. She wanted to hold her forever, to stroke and caress her, and to make her body tingle and her spirit soar. She wanted to return each of the pleasure that Marilyn had given her tenfold. With brazenness which she didn't think she possessed, she dropped one hand to Marilyn's lap, resting the backs of her fingers against the cushiony mound of her red-furred, panty-covered pussy.
"Oooooooohhhh, yesssssssss," Marilyn hissed. "Ooooooooooooohhhhh, yeeeeessssssss." Her body was atremble with shimmering waves of shuddering pleasure which flooded her being and set all her nerve ends in motion. Her entire body pulsated, like an electronic beacon, humming with desire and purring with erotic energy. "Please, Ellen," she murmured. "I want to hold you too. Please. Take your clothes off."
Taking her hands from Ellen's tits, she stood quickly, stepping from her skirt and stripping the secretion-moistened panties from her legs. Ellen just sat staring up at her, entranced as the dewy wisp of material fell away to reveal the fiery red triangle of Marilyn's pubic bush. The hair of her cunt was even redder than the hair of her head, and Ellen felt a crazy desire to tangle her fingers in it, and press her face against it, inhaling the heady aroma of her womanhood.
She stood quickly, as Marilyn had done, her hands going to the waist of her snug-fitting jeans. She tugged at the snap and pulled at the zipper, opening the front of her pants and bending forward to pull them from her. Marilyn watched her undress, slipping into the bed behind her and stretching comfortably. She ran her hands sensuously over the softness of her own breasts and thighs, her eyes locking on the spectacle of Ellen's pussy, dewy, red, and wide-open, framed by the columns of her legs as she bent to pull her white cotton panties from her ankles.
Reacting to a sudden whim, Marilyn's hand stole to the side of the bed where she flipped a switch connected to Ralph's automatic camera. She hoped that Ralph had gotten around to putting in a new roll of film. If he had, the camera would be photographing her and Ellen for the next seventeen minutes, its shutter clicking silently every thirty seconds. When, at last, Ellen turned to face her, completely naked and breathing hard, Marilyn smiled, giving no indication of what she had done. Maybe she would show the pictures to Ellen later, when she was sure that the girl was ready to deal freely with her budding sexuality. Patting the mattress beside her, she said, "Come, Ellen. Lie beside me and make me feel good."
Ellen stood for a moment, rubbing the hairy bush surrounding her tight young cunt with the flat of her hand and looking down at Marilyn's lush nudity. Her lust was mounting, but she didn't feel helpless, as she was last night in the arms of Randy Siegel. This time, she was going into it with her eyes open. She would seize the moment, taking pleasure where she found it, satisfying her needs in any way she could. And damn the consequences.
She didn't hear the camera click when she lowered herself to the mattress next to Marilyn, her senses dulled by her desire. Her hands went immediately to the older woman's body, stroking her breasts and belly hungrily. Now that she had gotten started, it was becoming easier and easier to be sensuous. All that it took was to let her mind go blank. To block out the myths and half-truths with which she had been raised, and to listen, at last, to the dictates of her body. To give expression to a need which had been evolving for millions of years and which was not, at any cost, to be denied.
She moved her right hand closer to the luxuriant growth of curling red fur which upholstered Marilyn's pleasure dome, her fingers trembling nervously. While she continued cupping and kneading the older woman's breasts with her left hand, she began petting and rubbing the moist slash of her pussy with the right. She could feel the lips flowering open for her, inviting her fingers to slip inside for a steamy soaking in the gushing juices of her excitement.
Marilyn writhed and squirmed under the young blonde's erotically exploring touch. Although she had a great deal more sexual experience than the young mid-westerner, they met as equals since it was the first time that either of them had lain with another woman. Ellen's fingers were soft, and more tender than any man's had ever been. She probed and pried at Marilyn's cunt lips with a gentleness born of understanding, the understanding which only another woman could have.
Ellen felt the slimy folds of red, hair-fringed orifice rolling back to expose the beefy interior of Marilyn's vaginal cavity. She leaned forward, bringing her nose as close to the slit as she could without actually coming into contact with it. It had a sweet and spicy aroma, and it made Ellen think of the Orient-a dark, mysterious place filled with secret nooks, crannies, and crevices that one could spend a lifetime exploring.
Then, with a strangled cry of lustful desire, she bent forward, pressing her lips to the fragrantly flowing slash and drinking deeply of its nectar. She delved with her tongue, licking across the sensitive membranes of the outer cunt lips and then probing deeper, tasting the honeyed secretions of Marilyn's womb.
"Aaaaaaaawwwww," groaned Marilyn, thrilling for the first time to the lingual caresses of another woman in the hot crevice of her pussy. "Ooooooohhhhh. Meeeeee, toooooooo," she howled. She grabbed desperately at Ellen's narrow hips and maneuvered her to a position astride her lust-contorted face. She could see the pouting slit of Ellen's pussy directly above her. It looked shiny and new, tight and hardly broken-in. As she felt Ellen's flapping tongue driving deep into her belly, she saw the girl's cunt opening wide before her in silent invitation. Locking her arms around the young mid-westerner's waist, she pulled her down, pressing the sweet, flowing pussy against her parted lips and sucking mouth.
"Ooooooowwwwweeeee," wailed Ellen, her body galvanized to action as Marilyn's tongue slid cock-like between the lips of her pussy. She rocked and bucked atop the luscious redhead, responding insanely to the stimulation of her sensitive vulva. She moaned and thrashed, trying, when the pleasure became too intense for her to bear, to wrench her pelvis from the grasp of Marilyn's arms. But Marilyn held her tight, moving with her, raising her head to follow the struggling, humping loins.
The girl, who had already been stimulated by the feel and taste of Marilyn's sexy body, was close to climax. When the pointy tip of her neighbor's exploring tongue began to describe a spiraling circle inside her, bringing it into sizzling contact with every section of her spasming cuntal canal, the girl went wild.
"Aaaaahhh. Aaaahhh. Aaaaahhh." she grunted. Each time she moaned, her mouth and throat vibrated, turning her cunt lapping tongue into the world's most effective vibrator. Marilyn's cries joined her own, filling the air of the little mountain cabin with a harmonious chorus of ecstatic instrumentation.
Marilyn's buttocks slammed against the mattress as she brought her ass down hard under the penetrating probes of Ellen's inexperienced but enthusiastic tongue. "Oooooooooooohhhhhhhh, Eeeelllleeeennnn," she wailed. "I'm goooiiinngg toooooo cuuuummmm."
"Ooooohhhh, meeee, toooooo," sobbed Ellen, her hips rolling madly from side to side as Marilyn's tongue churned her juices to a frothy cream-She could feel her orgasm beginning, curling her toes and making her hair stand on end. It gathered momentum like a rolling snowball, and built in intensity like a north-country blizzard. It rose within her like a spring monsoon, crashing resoundingly to a stormy peak which started where last night's climax left off. She screamed like a wounded animal, the all-possessing fury of her pleasure robbing her of every semblance of humanity.
Beneath her, Marilyn was sobbing and moaning, sounding for all the world like a burning witch in the death throes of her final agony. She had become a living, breathing cunt, motivated only by the power of her orgasm and with no other reason for being but the clamorous excitement of sexual satisfaction. Her pussy had been licked by many men-and Ralph was the best of them-but never before had anything felt so good. Never before had an orgasm been so complete or so self-consuming.
She hung for an eternity in the limbo of orgasmic fulfillment. Then, like a leaf in the autumn breeze, she drifted slowly back to earth, reality reintroducing itself in stages. Finally, like Ellen, she lay panting and moaning on the mattress, limp in the afterglow of total consummation.
By the time Ellen returned to her cottage that afternoon, she had spent nearly four hours with Marilyn. They alternated their bouts of furious and uninhibited lovemaking with serious conversations about life, love, and Ellen's new attitude toward sex. Although she was still unsure of what she would do about her marriage to Teddy, she felt relieved. As though the heavy burden which she had been carrying was now resting on another person's shoulders.
To her surprise, she felt no fatigue as she walked up the road. In fact, in spite of her vigorous sexual exercise, she was feeling stronger and more energetic than she had ever felt before in her life. A motorcycle was parked next to her front porch, but after looking around quickly for its rider, she shrugged and walked inside. There sitting at the table, a bunch of flowers in his hand, was Randy Siegel. He held the flowers out to her as she entered the room. "Hello, Siegel," she said, surprised to see him.
"Aaaaahhh. Aaaahhh. Aaaaahhh." she grunted. Each time she moaned, her mouth and throat vibrated, turning her cunt lapping tongue into the world's most effective vibrator. Marilyn's cries joined her own, filling the air of the little mountain cabin with a harmonious chorus of ecstatic instrumentation.
Marilyn's buttocks slammed against the mattress as she brought her ass down hard under the penetrating probes of Ellen's inexperienced but enthusiastic tongue. "Oooooooooooohhhhhhhh, Eeeelllleeeennnn," she wailed. "I'm goooiiinngg toooooo cuuuummmm."
"Ooooohhhh, meeee, toooooo," sobbed Ellen, her hips rolling madly from side to side as Marilyn's tongue churned her juices to a frothy cream-She could feel her orgasm beginning, curling her toes and making her hair stand on end. It gathered momentum like a rolling snowball, and built in intensity like a north-country blizzard. It rose within her like a spring monsoon, crashing resoundingly to a stormy peak which started where last night's climax left off. She screamed like a wounded animal, the all-possessing fury of her pleasure robbing her of every semblance of humanity.
Beneath her, Marilyn was sobbing and moaning, sounding for all the world like a burning witch in the death throes of her final agony. She had become a living, breathing cunt, motivated only by the power of her orgasm and with no other reason for being but the clamorous excitement of sexual satisfaction. Her pussy had been licked by many men-and Ralph was the best of them-but never before had anything felt so good. Never before had an orgasm been so complete or so self-consuming.
She hung for an eternity in the limbo of orgasmic fulfillment. Then, like a leaf in the autumn breeze, she drifted slowly back to earth, reality reintroducing itself in stages. Finally, like Ellen, she lay panting and moaning on the mattress, limp in the afterglow of total consummation.
By the time Ellen returned to her cottage that afternoon, she had spent nearly four hours with Marilyn. They alternated their bouts of furious and uninhibited lovemaking with serious conversations about life, love, and Ellen's new attitude toward sex. Although she was still unsure of what she would do about her marriage to Teddy, she felt relieved. As though the heavy burden, which she had been carrying was now resting on another person's shoulders.
To her surprise, she felt no fatigue as she walked up the road. In fact, in spite of her vigorous sexual exercise, she was feeling stronger and more energetic than she had ever felt before in her life. A motorcycle was parked next to her front porch, but after looking around quickly for its rider, she shrugged and walked inside. There sitting at the table, a bunch of flowers in his hand, was Randy Siegel. He held the flowers out to her as she entered the room.
"Hello, Siegel," she said, surprised to see him.
"What are you doing here?"
"The name's Randy," he answered, his handsome face lit by a grin which contained just a trace of licentiousness. "And I just dropped in to say hello."