Chapter 9
The August sun was reaching its apex, splattering dots of heat through the low hanging branches onto John Silverman's forehead as leaning against the rough stucco wall of the Henshaw's compound cottage, strange emotions burst through the thickness of his mind in disturbing patterns. Muffled cries and stifled screams reached his twitching ears through the thick walls, making him jittery with the knowledge that he was missing out on the activities inside. A tingle of resentment itched at his fingers and turning, he took three steps toward the back porch before stopping, checking the temptation and resuming guard.
From the living room window the stocky figure hidden in the short afternoon shadows was a curious one. Sharon Goddard squinted against the sun's intimidating rays, shading her eyes with her hand, the palm of which was clammy with the thrill of nervous anticipation and intrigue. She hadn't the fortune to witness anything as Holmesian as the strange mystery surrounding the goings-on about the Henshaw cottage.
. Wasn't that John Silverman keeping guard at the back porch door . . ? And weren't the gurgled cries and screams being carried on the afternoon winds very feminine?
Tense and fidgety, Sharon pushed her chair back from the table and on rubbery legs plopped down in the reclining rocker, hoping that tearing herself away from the rear window view would ease the frustrated tension building to a heart-pounding beat in her lithe frame. Idly, she picked up a Cosmopolitan magazine from the end table and perused it meaninglessly. The centerfold display of lingerie, all lace and silk, did nothing to dispel the mental images that had been plaguing her all afternoon.
Pictures of that sweet young Rita Henshaw being beaten or raped kept flashing through her mind. Fleetingly she wondered if Harley hadn't been correct in his accusation that she wanted to imagine Rita being pillaged-if only to prove her meddlesome concerns were well founded.
Abruptly the magazine fluttered from her hands. The notion, indirect and subconscious as it was, flashed jaggedly through her mind that she was piecing together a sexual fantasy basted in mystery to satisfy the pent-up longing dammed up within her neglected womanhood. Had Harley ignored her, demeaned her as a woman for so long that she had been reduced to conjuring up rape scenes in her mind to counteract the need for love from him?
To hell with love, she thought bitterly, her lips pursing tightly. She wanted sex-sex anyway a man would give it to her-sex like in the scenes she imagined taking place next door!
The lissome, dark-haired figure sophisticated in outward appearance, if not dry and brittle from premature aging, had wrestled with her instincts long enough. Decisively, she rose from the chair and ironing the wrinkles out of her dress with her hands, stomped toward the front door. Since John Silverman was keeping watch at the back, she would sneak through the front door, take a peek, call out Rita's name and if her suspicions did not prove correct, would make up an excuse for the intrusion.
"Aaaaaghhhh.. . " Rita backbone snapped at the painful invasion of a raping finger jabbing through the soft folds of skin and into her anus. She writhed in agony, both physical and mental. The pain dulled her senses, then faded into a numbing ache as her back passage became accustomed to the unnatural impalement. It was not yet pleasure, but the sensation had the whisperings of it as the growing titillation melded with the feel of Rover's huge cock burrowing deeply up into her helplessly exposed cunt. Her memory had lost the significance of his racial and moral differences; he was but the machinery to a phallic length that was filling her with pleasure.
Kneeling behind her bent form, the black gardener began fucking in and out of her frothing cunt with long, lunging strokes that knocked the breath out of Rita's tortured, burning lungs. A feeling of absolute superiority, such as he had never experienced, rippled through Rover as he held her hips down pinned to the bed in total subjection to the rock hard cock skewering into her. He felt the soft fleshy ridges of her cuntal muscles inside giving way before the onslaught of his punishing cock. Rover clenched his teeth, breath hissing joyfully from his nostrils. Oh, to be on the giving end of punishment instead of the receiving end!
He stretched the quivering moons of her buttocks wide with his fingers, watching in the afternoon light the pink folds of wet glistening flesh clinging tightly around his black pole, slickened with their mingled juices. Higher up in the crevice of her ass, Charlie's bony finger ground and twisted a deeper trench into Rita's tender back passage, circling and stretching her anal hole diligently. His hands buried deep beneath her quivering torso, the inmate squeezed brutally at her naked breasts, teasing and pulling at every part of their young round firmness, his breathing snorting in harsh gasps as his own lust mounted beyond endurance. With every head-slamming forward lunge, Rover's thick black cock filled her cunt to the bursting point and flung her forward against Charlie's sinewy, hairy thighs.
He slammed into her with a ferocious power, incited by the sight of the hands working, kneading, squeezing the naked white flesh that oozed through knuckles like unbaked bread dough. Rita's breath came in one long continuous sigh now, her face, sheened with perspiration and furrowed with ambiguous emotions, turned sideways to allow for easier breathing. The angelic, baby-faced features were contorted, varying between the visage of a frightened child and a passionate woman, as if a battle was raging inside her brain. Should she break loose of inhibition and allow herself to feel the pleasure of being filled-the center of two men at once? A cry of unmistakable ecstasy tore from her throat, hissing through teeth tightly clenched.
It appeared the decision had been made . . .
Charlie was panting. "Hey, Rover, man, I can' wait no longer," Rita heard his gasp. "I gotta drop m' pants and fuck her mouth!"
A movement around her head signalled his intent and Rita felt the mattress dropping in front of her as a heavy weight descended upon it. Strong white hands lifted her shoulders until she rested on her hands and knees and then something spongy and wet and hot and musky smelling pressed against her soft lips. Rita's eyes flew open in fear, and her eyes widened and blinked from the sight of a long hard cock wagging in front of her nose. No.. . he couldn't want that! Wasn't one oral rape enough?
Rita glared up into the smirking, pot-marked face and her lips delicately parted, a cry for mercy dying in her throat as another hard lunge from behind flung her forward, her lips slipping forcefully over the cock in front of her.
The man was kneeling on the bed before her and grasping her ears vise-like between his calloused palms, ramming forward into her gaping mouth. She could feel the rubbery bluntness of the head sliding the length of her tongue, lifting momentarily her concentration from the huge penis drubbing into her cunt from behind. The stranger immediately began sawing viciously into her face like it was a second cunt.
Rita gagged as he rammed its smelly length halfway down her throat, the huge hunk of man-meat disappearing between her ovaled lips as if she were gobbling it up. The blonde girl closed her eyes tightly to block out the horrible sight of the tightly-curled blonde pubic hairs growing at the thick base. Saliva filled her mouth, puffing her cheeks like balloons as she shoved forward, cramming the shaft deep into her tender throat, keeping pace with the penis ramming into her from behind.
The room was filled with the grunts and groans and wet salacious slaps of naked flesh against naked flesh. Rita tried not to think about the defilement she was being subjected to. The inmate' hairy testicles bounced against her chin an a strong odor of alcohol burst upon her face from his mouth above. That and the combined odor of perspiration and sexual male juices filled her nostrils with a constant reminder of the cruel attack she was being subjected to. She struggled to breath, catching small gasps of air on the out-stroke. Her cheeks reddened from the effort of breathing, her lungs burning. A rising tide began to swell in the pit of her belly then.
The very helplessness of her position was almost sensual in the lack of choice it allowed her. To willingly participate in sex implied a choice of moral paths-no such choice was allowed Rita now. Two wildly insane, drunken men were using her body as a dumping grounds for their hot, sticky sperm and the depraved mental image of her helpless body being buffeted about between them, excited Rita in a strangely perverse manner that had nothing to do with morality, marriage or ethic code.
She opened herself to experience, swinging her buttocks in tiny circles, teasing hotly at the fleshy staff that was jack-hammering into her cunt from behind. If Charlie wanted her to lick and suck, lick and suck she would. In fantasizing herself a wanton woman, she could rise above the humiliation of bodily subservience, and that she was quickly becoming an expert at. She licked and sucked at the pungent tasting maleness pumping into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing and filling with his cruel thrusts. She wanted them to cum, to shoot their stranger's sperm into her womb and mouth, wanted to swallow their cum and feel it trickling down her thighs, wanted it to pool in her belly in a sticky, coagulating mass. like a mad woman, she fought for her orgasm building until she thought it might explode.
Suddenly she felt the penis drilling into her tender cuntal folds inflate and erupt geyser-like, spewing its white bursts of hot liquid into her hungrily clasping belly. The big gardener jerked convulsively forward, triggering Rita's orgasm like the flick of a switch. Rita groaned around the cock pummeling into her mouth as her body exploded in great sensual waves of cum around the quivering, squirting cock in her cunt. At the same time, Charlie mashed his loins into her face, drilling his cock deep into her gasping throat.
A soul-searing moan shattered the air and Rita's mouth was flooded with hot, sticky cum. She gulped to keep from gagging, tasting the salty sweetness of the inmate's sperm. The lewd, animal-like debasement registered in her mind with a bit of pride. She had satisfied this man-though she had never satisfied her husband. Now nothing existed for Rita Henshaw but these two spewing penises and her own wildly quivering body, a mere hole to be used to satisfy their pent-up lust. Small droplets dribbled from the corners of her mouth as Charlie collapsed in front of her and his limp organ slithered wetly from her still sucking mouth.
Her strength deceiving her, Rita collapsed to the bed as the black penis slipped wormishly from her stretched and ravished pussy and gushes of air rushed in to cool the steaming hole. She lay panting, spent physically and emotionally, weary sighs of satiation slipping from her sperm-coated lips.
The men grumbled to their feet, wiping their sticky genitals on the corner of the Henshaw's sheets and Charlie reached down onto the floor and plucked a bottle out of his breast pocket. Reverently, he opened the bottle and took a hefty swill, then handed it to Rover who grabbed it greedily, a white toothy grin widening the white slit that was his smile.
"Hey, man, where yo' git that shit?" Upending the bottle, trickles of whiskey rivered down his black chin.
"Where you think I got me that shit? Ol' fuck-face Goddard hisself give m' that for five bucks. Now don' go drinkin' it all up, Rover. That stuffs the price o' gold."
"Five bucks, huh?" Rover stared cogitatingly at the bottle. "Dat man goin' lose his job one day . . . he gonna price hisse'f right outta da market. Ol' Supe Pollack was cheaper'n dat."
Rita was listening half-heartedly to their conversation, picking up threads of a story that meant nothing to her. Indeed, her vagina and mouth were ravished, her cuntal lips swollen and hot, her mouth bleeding at the corners, dots of male cum splattered in her golden curls. She was in no mood for conversation. The room fell abruptly silent and Charlie cocked his head to one side as though listening to something oat-side the door. Noting the intent fear on his face, Rita tried to still her own ragged breathing and listen too.
Instantly she jerked up nakedly on the bed in horror as she heard footsteps in the uncarpeted hallway leading from the living room to the master bedroom. Oh, God, don't let that be Max! she thought in a gut renting knot of pain.
In a moment John Silverman's face appeared as he dragged behind him a terrified intruder.
Rita's hands flew to cover her mouth. "Sharon!" she gasped and grabbed the sheet to cover her nakedness.
The high swells of Sharon Goddard's cheekbones were clammy from the fascinating horror taking place on the Henshaw's bed. Her eyes were wide in their sockets from watching the threesome involved in acts she had never conjured up in her wildest erotic fantasy and intrigue. She had peeked in the door to see Rita Henshaw kneeling on her hands and knees with two men using her mouth and vagina at the same time.
Arousal was fast on the heels of horror, and Sharon felt a strange twitching in the pit of her empty belly. Then, moving back into the hallway, plastering herself to the wall, she had tried to satisfy herself, peering in every few minutes around the doorjamb to make sure no one suspected her presence. In her sexual frenzy, Sharon had forgotten one obvious character in the mystery: The blonde -haired man tending the back porch door. Moments after her lithe fingertips had traveled up the slopes of her thighs, one hand reaching down to cup her pouting pubic mound while the other inched the cotton skirt of her dress up along her silken thigh to allow deft fingers to explore the path under the elastic band of her panties and stroke the swollen folds of her long neglected cuntal lips. In seconds, her eyelids began flickering, her mouth dropping open, her fingers plunging into her frothing pussy with a raping speed-and then John found her.
Now she stood blushing in chagrined humiliation before the three inmates and Rita Henshaw. The slim skirt of her dress was still wrapped high around her full hips where she had pulled it up in the heat of her excitement.
"I-I-I found her out-outside th-the door!" stammered John proudly, the childish enthusiasm of his discovery obvious on his dimpled face.
"You dumb shit!" bellowed Charlie, his face rouged with sweat. "You's supposed to keep people out-not let 'em in!"
Rover looked at Charlie and Charlie looked at Rover. Neither appeared pleased by the recent development. Now what were they going to do with Sharon Goddard? This little mid-afternoon orgy was turning into a major production, its cast growing. Both men knew Sharon, both having worked at her house on occasion. Both held grudges against her for her spying, chiding meddlesome ways.
John, chin trembling, was looking down at the floor, then quickly jolted as if his finger had touched a hot wire when Rover barked at him: "Catch 'er, she's git-tin' way on us!"
Indeed, Sharon had turned on her heel and in a flurry of movement darted for the door. John lunged after her, grabbing her by the waist and wrestling her to the floor where he straddled her chest, the woman's dress skirt hiked up to show off the white expanse of flesh between her garter belt and panty line. The men's eyes were riveted to that space. Charlie licked his lips while Sharon wailed in humiliation.
Sharon kicked her heels, trying to wiggle her way free from the imprisoning trap of John Silverman's stocky body riding her chest like a bronco. The pressure of his buttocks resting against her rib cage made it difficult to breathe, and the air snorted from her nostrils stentoriously. Her hands reached down to push at his thighs; but he was not about to be moved.
"Wh-what are w-w-we gonna d-do with-with her?" he stammered.
Rover rose up on one elbow from the bed and smiled a broad grin that well announced his intentions. The thickness of his pink tongue dampened the round swell of his lips, his eyes never leaving the luscious sight of the Superintendent's wife's naked thighs.
"How's 'bout we have a little party here with de gals," he smirked. "Nothin' I'd like to see better'n little blondie here suckin' of the Supe's wife. How's bout you, Charlie?"
"Nooooo.. . " a broken wail escaped Rita's lips as she lay sprawled on the sheets. Limply she lifted her head to cry: "These men . . . th-they're crazy drunk. . . they raped me!"
"Oh shuddup, gal," the pock-marked faced Charlie growled. "You wasn't complainin' a second ago when I plugged that face full a cock."
On the floor a flurry of motion combined with grunts and groans and hoarse threats. Sharon's skirt was twisted up around her waist now, the white strip of panties moistened and sticking tautly to the swollen folds of her cunt. Her body was electric and squirming about, she managed to wriggle free of John's iron grip and succeeded in entwining her fingers in his blonde curls. Gnashing her teeth and fighting like a cat, she managed to roll him over, then springing free, she made a bawling burst for the door on her hands and knees, her skirt still wadded about her waist, exposing the panty-clad moons of her buttocks.
But John was agile; he pounced on her like a cat would a mouse, pinning her to the floor. Naked legs scissored behind, then in front of him and seconds later Charlie returned from the kitchen with a vegetable knife.
He fell to his knees beside the pinned down Superintendent's wife, the knife blade pushed tight against her Adam's Apple. "I put up with enough shit from yo' husband.. . I ain' gonna take no crap from his bitchy wife!" he yelled.
Sharon blinked a fearful eye which looking straight ahead lay on the dangling, sticky tube of Charlie's spent penis. The leathery sac of balls dangling like twin fists below. The smell of sex reached her nostrils before the fear of the blade registered in her mind. The need for sex was still burning within her and quite unconsciously, she licked her lips.
"Now you gonna be a nice lady and let blondie there suck yo' cunt or am I gonna have to put a scar on that pretty face?" He lifted the knife to run the blade up along the curve of her high cheek bone. The steel was cold against Sharon's cheek.
To be raped, yes, she could handle that, but to be forced into oral copulation with a woman . . . NEVER! Fearfully, Sharon searched the three men's eyes for some sign that they were only joking. But no joke this
. that was obvious from the glint in Charlie's green eyes.
"Oh, no . . . I can't . . . " she faltered. "Rape me . . . but don't force me to-with her!"
Sharon's eyes came last to meet Rita's gaze of quiet despair.
"You'd b-better do as they say, Sharon," said Rita calmly. "Th-they beat me with a belt.. . . "
"Now tha' didn't hurt ya none, kid . . . " chided Rover, running a black hand over Rita's nakedness in a way that made goose bumps tickle the length of her spine.
Sharon gulped and nodded. It was all too apparent that Rita had been persuaded by something; the ivory flesh of her thighs and backside were crosshatched with red traces of what must have been ugly welts.
"Now get naked for us, Supe's wife," taunted Charlie, "so's we can see what ol' Harley does with his spare time when he ain' sellin' his inmates liquor on the side!"
"He . . . he wouldn't!" rebuked Sharon defensively. "You're lying!"
"Toss the little lady the bottle to prove it," Charlie nodded at Rover who tossed the bottle of whiskey over Sharon's head. He caught it in one hand. "How about a sip, Mrs. Supe to quiet ya down a bit?"
Sharon shook her head. "No.. . .I-I don't want any liquor," she choked.
"Come on, honey. You gonna need somethin' to relax ya when blondie plasters her sweet lips to your clit and sucks your cunt juices down her throat."
The gurgle in Sharon's throat carried a double meaning. She'd opened her mouth to accept a mouthful of the amber liquor, trickles of it running down her chin . . . and the thought of the angel-faced Rita Henshaw putting her lips to her cunt and licking up her sex juices under the threat of danger by these crazy, drunken men provided the denouement to her afternoon fantasy. Sharon raised her head to survey the scene.
John was kneeling behind her, there on the bed was Rover stretched out like a panther, stroking his black hand along Rita's delicate body, the testicles of Charlie dangling before her face, knife in hand. The setting was perfect, the characters well chosen. A fantasy come to life.. . .
"Git that dress off before I cut it off!" snarled Charlie.
Slowly rising up on one elbow, Sharon reached behind her and pulled down the zipper of her dress, her eyes never leaving Charlie's flinty ones. Slipping the garment off her shoulders, it puddled to her waist, revealing that she wore nothing beneath it but bikini panties, garter belt and stockings and a low-cut brassiere.
The men in the bedroom gasped in amazed appreciation at her ripe bumps and curves that were as firm and smooth as that of a teenager. Even Rita's eyes lingered on marble thighs slinking free of clothing, on the swell of Sharon's milky breasts oozing out above the lacy cups that tried in vain to capture them. Her cleavage was deep and creamy. Upon her knees, she wiggled the wadded up dress down over her hips and then stood up to step free. Four sets of eyes moved upward to stare at the Superintendent's wife standing in her scanty lace garter belt, brassiere and panties. Her hips and thighs were well proportioned and sleek.
From a woman's critical standpoint, Rita had to concede that Sharon had certainly hid her finer attributes behind the modest knit dresses and pearls and pug. The orgasm of her earlier abuse was still ripe within Rita's body, and now she found herself becoming unexpectedly aroused at the sight of the nearly naked older woman.
"Come on, git lickin'! " grumbled Charlie impatiently.
"Come . . . come here, Sharon," whispered Rita. 'They won't let us go until we've ruined ourselves."
Sharon stared into Rita's eyes, an electrical current snapping between the two of them and from the glint in Sharon's orbs, one could read the message that she didn't consider this her ruination.
Hesitantly, Sharon strode toward the bed and stood before it. "Tha's a way, girlies, git to know each other a bit."
Again the masochistic call to subservience overtook Rita's senses. If she did not comply to these men's demands, they would hurt her worse than the lingering sting of the belt across her buttocks. Rita slowly rose and stood beside the taller woman, her eyes roving over her full-rounded body.
"Come on, gals, we ain' got all day . . . git 'er naked, blondie." It was Rover speaking, laying on the bed, braced up on one elbow, stroking his cock with his free hand.
"Yyyyyeah . . . git git'er nnnnnaked!" echoed John hopefully, glancing from man to man for approval of his lustfulness.
With trembling hands, Rita tentatively reached out for the firm white flesh of Sharon's shoulder. Gently, she unfastened the clasp of the older woman's brassiere, slowly pulling the garment away from her shoulders. Rita dropped the flimsy lace under thing to the floor, then tentatively reached out to touch the pale glistening skin of Sharon's breasts. They jutted proudly from the woman's body like full ripe melons, their over-sized nipples the ruddy-beige color of doeskin.
"I ain' gonna tell you gals one more time to git suckin!" complained Charlie.
Rita's throat choked dryly. As though in humble homage to their perfection, Rita's fingers traced a trembling path over the smooth swell of Sharon's breasts, circling and finally coming to rest on the sensitive tips. Rita felt a strange new arousal at her own bravery and she looked boldly into Sharon's face to register the effect as she began to squeeze and pinch the rosy nubs.
The embarrassment of their public intimacy caused them to avoid each other's eyes until now. To Rita's satisfaction, she saw the older woman's eyes close in ecstasy, eyelids flickering. Beneath her exploring, busy fingers the soft flesh contracted and tightened under her insistent touch.
Her mind alight with the newfound joy of controlling another woman's body, Rita slipped her hands down Sharon's torso and began to tug gently at her filmy panties.
"Oh, no . . . " breathed Sharon defensively. "I-I thought I could go through with this . . . but I can't. . . no . . . " She reached down to check Rita's insistent fingers.
"Relax, Sharon," the blonde bride murmured. "It won't hurt . . . you've got to trust me."
Around the two women, the trio of men stared with eyes ablaze with lust as they passed the remainder of the whiskey from hand to hand. The sight of the naked blonde seducing the sophisticated Superintendent's wife was too sexy to rake one's eyes from.
Stationed next to Charlie, John gurgled down the whiskey, though he had no taste for the liquid and stood stroking his penis through the faded denim of his jumpsuit. In minutes, he was tearing off his clothes and standing masturbating as was Charlie. Nobody wanted to interrupt this lesbian performance for his own selfish reasons-not yet at least.
Rita's ragged breathing broke through the stillness of the day as she slid Sharon's panties down over her rounded hips and thighs, then gently lifted one ankle and then the other to remove her panties. Deftly he'd begun working at the garter belt clasps when Charlie interrupted her.
"Leave the garters on . . . they're sexy as hell," he grunted, throwing back his head and taking a deep swill of the whiskey.
The eyes were moving downward then, following the lowered golden head as Rita crouched to the floor beside the dark -haired captive. Caressingly, she wound her lithe arms around Sharon's sleek legs, then slowly began to run her palms up the inside of the woman's thighs. Above her, Sharon trembled and groaned in a drama of conflicting desires.
"P-Please, don't-don't do any more," she stammered. "I can't take much more . . . " But even as she protested, the Superintendent's wife reached up to untangle her pug, flailing her head to let it hang free and loose about her shoulders. The hair was thick and soft, with a hint of wave. It subtracted ten years from her appearance, a fact that even John noticed.
Rita smiled at the tacit acquiescence and moved her hands upward until her fingers grazed the soft sparse hairs that framed Sharon's pussy. Something had happened to her that afternoon, she realized, something had snapped within her. Was it the fear and anxiety of separation from motherly and husbandly approval that had lifted and opened the lid on her inhibitions? Being forced to act out of threat of danger had opened her, actually forced her into experiences she would not have indulged in on her own.
Rita's quivering, desirous body could not be calmed down. It was blazing again with need, screaming for release. For a reason she could not fathom, the feel and sight of Sharon's lush body was arousing her even more. Just as the inmates had forced her into submission, she was forcing Sharon into submission. Rising from her squatting position, she began to nudge Sharon back onto the bed.
Sharon's mind was a miasma of indecision and a mounting lust that was quickly climbing the slopes of her passion to reach the top. That she was not a lesbian, she knew, yet this young woman's touch was driving her mad and she almost conceded to the fact that she would like nothing better than to have this beatific young blonde sucking and licking at her burning vaginal slit. Hesitantly, she allowed her body to be muscled back against the bed, then forced down onto the mattress where Rita sat down beside her.
Sharon's eyes were pinpricks of passion, riveted on the younger woman's face. There was a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach and she apprehensively tightened her buttocks. Rita's blue eyes gleamed cat-like as she gently nuzzled Sharon down on her back, then lay down herself, stretching her body against the older woman's. Sharon could feel the heat of the young woman's body next to her own, thigh against thigh, smooth belly against hip, her breasts mashed against Sharon's rib cage with each of the hard pink nipples jabbing into her soft flesh.
Both women had forgotten they were prisoners as the walls of inhibition crumbled and the three men who were their captors stood around gaping in stupefied awe at the scene being enacted before them.
Slowly, Rita took Sharon face in her hands, cupping the high swell of her cheek bones. Rita's lips crushed onto Sharon's, soft and warm at first. The maneuver was executed so subtly that Sharon wasn't aware of the exact moment when Rita's sweet-tasting tongue, still piquant with male juices, floated between her teeth and into her mouth. The older woman was breathing in short gasps, excited by the idea that she was doing the forbidden. Her objecting conscience was completely overruled by the thrills of delicious feeling between her legs as her cuntal muscles expanded and contracted in delightful anticipation.
Almost without knowing what she was doing, Sharon began to lick and suck possessively at the velvety tongue swirling over her teeth. When Rita pulled it back, Sharon's tongue quickly followed it into the other woman's warm sucking cavern. Gurgles of newfound joy bubbled from each others throat.
Rita slipped one lithe leg over Sharon's firm upper thighs, rubbing her swollen, oily clitoris over Sharon's hip bone, sending an electric shock to course through her at the contact, shuddering as she realized that Rita's hand was moving, creeping, stealing its way up towards her swollen breasts again, stroking and massaging the oozing flesh with an exciting, intimate knowledge, born of the strange new lust that had captured the young girl's mind.
"Ooooooohhhh.. . . " Sharon moaned in sheer delight as Rita's lips left her own and began kissing and nibbling their path down the milky breasts she held possessively in her feminine grasp. Rita's hand had become suddenly aggressive, locking and squeezing on both snowy mounds, pushing them high up on Sharon's chest to ease the blonde's access to the throbbing nipples which she sucked on like a hungry child.
Sharon was trembling with lust, her body sheened like damp marble. By the time Rita reluctantly released her hold on one of Sharon's breasts to reach down and tangle her fingers in Sharon's long, soft hair, the older woman was beginning the movements of copulation. A moment later, Rita's slender middle finger began carefully sliding up and down the damp, secret crevice between Sharon's thighs, maddeningly avoiding touching the bud of her clitoris, even though Sharon was helplessly undulating her hips with frustrated desire.
A strangely exciting idea snapped into Rita's lust-inflamed mind as she felt the narrow crack becoming more slick from lubricants easing her path. Why not let Sharon experience the same oddly sensual pleasure that she, Rita, had experienced for the first time that day.
Following her instincts, Rita's finger slid further and further back in the damp crevice until it reached the tiny anal ring. At that spongy door it began an unrelenting pressure to break into the forbidden opening. Just as the inmates had forced her into new sensual experience, so she would the Superintendent's wife. Fleetingly, Rita wondered if her neighbor was suffering from the same husbandly neglect that had piqued her own sexual desires. Was that the subject of the little chat Sharon had suggested they have some day? Was it, indeed, a subconscious means of seducing Rita? The thought made Rita tremble with a new urgency. Were all the wives of employers of the Center as hungry for affection as she and Sharon? If so, the walls of that prison must be invisible curtains shutting off everyone in the periphery from the good things in life. A chill suffused Rita's body at the depressing thought.
Rita's thoughts were brought back to a more conscious level as Sharon raised her hips and grunted out a protest to escape the pressured discomfort, but the slender finger was moistened and slippery enough to slip with slight pop into the hot, twitching cavity.
"Nooo . . . that hurts . . . please, no Rita!" barked Sharon.
In answer to the complaint, Rita sank her teeth into the tender flesh of the Superintendent's wife's breast, seemingly trying to cram the whole oozing mound of flesh into her sucking mouth. The pain, she knew, would fade quickly and become an exquisite shot of joy. Back and forth, in and out, Rita moved her finger in the tiny quivering rectal hole, trying to gore deeper; but the first knuckle was the limit. The puckered ring had so tightly clenched on Rita's knuckle that it followed each movement of the blonde's squirming finger.
Sharon moaned from deep in her soul. Indeed, the painful sensation had changed into something else-something fantastically exciting. Suddenly, she began to move the muscles of her naked buttocks in a frantic effort to pull the invading finger in further. Flexing and relaxing desperately, she felt herself building toward orgasm. Her body quickly worked toward that long-deprived peak of sensation. She wanted more and more of that finger shoving in and out of her pulsating anal passage . . . wanted something hard shoved up her cunt. . . something big and manly and very, very hard!
A squealing whine cut the air and Rita's eyes shot open to feel herself being pulled away from Sharon's frantically squirming buttocks. Both women groaned with frustration as they were pulled apart. She had been so close to cumming, so close after so long. . . but then, Sharon blinked upward.
Before her stood Charlie grinning salaciously and pumping away at his inflamed cock. Beside her, Sharon heard the bed squeak as the inmate climbed between Rita's wide-spread legs.
"I ain't had a chance to fuck ya yet, girl." His breath was rank with the sweetness of alcohol and bad breath.
Instantly Sharon was put off. "Oh, God, you already fucked her once-fuck me!" she squealed. "Somebody hurry up and fuck me!" John came to her rescue.
The young inmate knelt beside the bed, his hugely swollen cock resting against the side of the mattress like a dead snake. Grasping her hips, he brutally jerked Sharon toward him until her buttocks hung slightly over the edge of the bed and her legs were splayed on either side of his panting form. Grabbing his cock, he aimed it at her gasping hole, moving like a starving fish's mouth and lunged forward with a violent thrust.
The huge ten inch cock was driven in hard and straight until the two sperm-filled balls slapped hard down against the sensitive ring of Sharon's rectum.
"Aaaaaiiiiieeee . . . " she screeched in ecstasy. The thin, soft edges of her vagina clung needfully to the punishing penis as it slowly withdrew and she screwed her ass down into the mattress. Then his pelvic bone crunching thrusts pushed the soft fleshy fold back into her vagina. The glistening cock, like an oil rig, disappeared into the warm depths of her cunt.
For a fleeting moment, Sharon thought of her husband Harley, feeling a brief spasm of guilt that quickly extinguished itself with the next battering thrust destroying her power of reasoning. Sanity shorted out in a shower of delicious sparks.
The bed jiggled wildly from the action of Rita and the lanky Charlie fucking into her. Rita's mind and body were alive with the thrill of forbidden copulation.
Her eyes rolled like marbles in their sockets and she noticed Rover behind her, stroking his huge black meat as he waited for someone to finish. She had always despised the man, something mysterious in his smile coupled with her knowledge of his rape conviction creating a hate filled attraction for the man.
An idea struck her and she grasped her own huge breasts, pushing them together invitingly and nodding meaningfully at the nakedly gleaming man. His eyes lit up as he caught her thought.
John ceased his grunting thrusts for a moment as the black gardener climbed over Sharon's body until he was kneeling over her chest. Lubricating his bone-hard ebony cock with a drop of liquored spittle, he wedged the massive instrument between her pair of tightly pressed, milky oozing breasts and created a warm, welcome tunnel between them. Black man and the feeble minded began using Sharon's body in naked rhythm.
Martha looked down sighed in ecstatic contentment as she saw the blue-black shining head of the man's cock peeking through the valley of her cleavage at the same time the young man's penis battered excitingly against her tingling cervix.
"Harder, she grunted. "Fuck me harder . . . or I'll tell my husband on you!"
"Shit, you will!" garbled Charlie.
The bed quivered and shook as the three men drove their cocks harder and deeper into the two officials' wives humping madly on the mattress. The knife was discarded as were the neckties. Self will was the mental master here.
Charlie pushed Rita's legs higher and higher until her ankles were pressed over her quivering shoulders. Sharon, too, was in a position where she could not whimper complaints about the attack taking place on her body. Still, both women screamed and moaned and wiggled and squirmed from the force of their building climaxes.
Rita felt the first scalding spurt as Charlie's ejaculation began to hose into her. Her cunt instinctively contracted and squeezed around his spurting penis, sucking at it to pull all of it inside her. His orgasm triggered her own and her body began to twitch uncontrollably, her feet and legs dancing in time to the libidinous music screaming inside her skull. Charlie's white hot cum filled her quivering belly to cascade down the smooth white crevice across the white mounds of her still-twitching buttocks. When Charlie's prick slipped out of her sucking vagina, she was too exhausted to care.
But something did catch her notice: the sounds coming from the other side of the bed.
Rita gasped in slack-jawed amazement as she watched Rover riding Sharon's rib cage, his snaking black penis sliding in and out of the deep furrow between her breasts that the previously shy woman held so tightly together that bloodless ridges of oozing flesh bulged beneath her pressing fingers. At the same time, in automatic rhythm with Rover's lunging strokes, John Silverman was thrusting his bludgeoning cock in and out of the hungrily sucking hole between Sharon's thighs.
"Ooooooooh," she hissed, then screamed as her body began to twitch and spasm and hump against them. "I'm cummmming, oh, God, I'm cummmming!" The wail resounded of amazement and satisfaction.
The two inmates began driving with furious need and the wetly slapping sound of their three sweat-sheened, lubricated bodies smacking against each other was easily discernible. Sharon's back arched from the bed and she savagely used her heels to spur John on further, hissing and calling him names under her breath.
John gave one mighty lunge and his buttocks spasmed and tauted as he reached his climax. All three were panting with satiated pleasure, their cum spurting from the open cunt between the Superintendent's wife's legs and spattering onto her face and chin from the cock that was fucking between her breasts.
For long heated moments they lay on the Henshaw's bed, panting, regaining their senses. Not one of them had noticed or heard the quiet click of the screen door an hour and a half earlier or the angered steps of a man stalking across the back yard.
Harley Goddard sat moodily in the recliner where his wife had spent fidgety minutes earlier that day. Indeed, the Cosmopolitan magazine was recklessly tossed on the floor as if she had left in a rush. Harley knew damned well the nature of that haste.
When he had come home shortly after lunch, thinking he might be fortunate enough to find his wife in an agreeable mood despite the curtness with which he'd treated over the telephone, he collapsed in the living room chair awaiting her return from the grocery store or where ever the woman was spreading her gossip.
The window had been left open, the curtains pulled aside and from the rear window vantage point he'd heard a shrieking voice whose shrillness could only belong to his wife.
The urge to investigate was too strong to fight down, especially after Sharon's suspicions communicated over the telephone this morning. In his crepe-soled shoes he'd crept through the Henshaw's screen door and followed the noise to the bedroom. There he had stood in an agony of indecision, plastering himself to the wall in the hallway, the wild shrieks and moaning torturing his ears until, after a few miserable minutes, he decided to go back to his own house. Listening had been painful enough and he feared he might lose all control watching his wife being fucked by two of his convicts.
That his wife was a faithless slut was not all he'd learned. Charlie, Rover and the idiot had all been sucking down whiskey bought on the black market behind the walls.. . and the stupid bastards had related to his wife and Dr. Henshaw's wife who the mastermind behind the liquor ring was.
White faced and trembling, he had slipped back out the screen door and wearily walked back to his home, filled with rage, betrayal and revenge. Now that Dr. Henshaw's wife had the inside story from Charlie, the little cunt would run back to her husband and tell him everything. Harley might as well turn in his resignation now . . . unless he could find a way to shut the bitch's trap.
The calm rage was frightening in its intensity. He would make both bitches pay. He had never had any doubts about his wife's fidelity until that Henshaw couple moved next door. With the doctor snooping around in his, Harley's office and now his wife inviting Sharon over for afternoon orgies. It was too much for one man to take. The beginning of a plan started to crystallize in Harley's angry mind.
Then, chin set determinedly, he plucked a cigar from the tobacco box on the table, plugged it contentedly between his lips and phoned his assistant at the Center:
"I won't be in tomorrow, Sam. Reschedule my appointments . . . and make damn sure Henshaw isn't grubbin' around in my office, again, you hear me?" A pause, "And another thing. No work pool men are allowed privileges tomorrow . . . don't ask me why, you idiot! Just follow my directions."
Hooking his thumbs in the armholes of his vest, Harley Goddard rocked on his heels arrogantly, congratulating himself on his cleverness. A shuffling of feet announced his errant wife's return and in a moment she came through the kitchen, her faced wearing the mask of sexual satiation. Christ, he hated her for that! He felt his anger rise again at the sight of her smug expression, but he fought valiantly the urge to explode, forcing calmness.
"Hello, honey," he greeted her, smiling coolly and chewing on the butt end of his unlit cigar. "Been having a nice afternoon by yourself?"
Sharon's eyes popped at the sight of her husband, and quickly side-stepping him so he would not catch her in a lie, said: "What are you doing home so early? Are you feeling okay?"
Harley chuckled smugly. "No, I thought I'd come home and spend some time with you, darling. We haven't made love in a coon's age, you know." Come on, you lyin' cunt.. . try to deny me! he thought. "But I know . . . you've probably got a headache and . . "
"As a matter-of-fact. . . " Sharon put her fingers to her temper and rubbed massagingly. That her hair was still being worn loose and free was well noticed by her husband.
Harley reached into his back pocket for his wallet, thumbed through the greenery and peeled off a couple and handed them to Sharon. "I've been pretty cheap with ya lately, hon. Go down to the beauty shop tomorrow and have 'em do your hair. It's a mess," he said sardonically.
Sharon stared at her husband in ripe astonishment. Did he somehow find out about what happened today, she wondered. Was he trying to make her feel guilty? And the remark about her hair. . . what was that supposed to mean? She studied her husband's expression and found nothing of the tenderness his smile wore on the infrequent occasions when he chose to dole out bits of attention to her.
The bastard's trying to buy me off, she thought with anger, and recalling the comment from one of the inmates about her husband selling them liquor on the black market filled her with a hatred for him that obliterated any shred of guilt she may have felt about her illicit afternoon affair. All right, Harley, she thought. I'll take your money-that's the only thing I've ever gotten out of this disastrous relationshipand now I know where you make it!
"Oh, how sweet of you, hubby," she purred sweetly, hiding her irritation behind a sparkling smile. "I'd love to take that sweet Rita Henshaw with me. She has such baby fine blonde hair-and she was saying she needed a trim."
Harley drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry honey, but I heard Doc Henshaw say he had a surprise for her tomorrow. Rita's gonna be all tied-up."