Chapter 1
Cheryl was already in bed, pretending to be asleep, when her husband came into the room. She had gone to bed early, hoping to stop the uneasiness of his last night in the house. She knew how he would want to complicate it if she gave him the chance. Now, as she heard him enter the darkened room, she knew it would have been best to have settled it beforehand. She should have told him it would be better for him to sleep on the couch tonight, the last night. There was really no sense in risking another unpleasant scene. They both felt bad enough about it already.
She lay hunched up under the blanket. Her eyes were tightly shut. She listened to his shoes drop on the floor. She heard the clink of his belt buckle as he took off his pants and tossed them on the chair. She felt goose bumps crawling over her thighs and arms. God, I know what's going to happen, she thought. For two years he hasn't made me come. And he won't be able to leave me without trying at least once more. I just don't want to. I just don't have the energy to try again. I just want him to leave me alone. What am I going to do when he touches me?
"Cheryl?" he whispered. "You still awake?"
She felt the covers lifted and the mattress sinking as he climbed in beside her. She didn't stir.
"Cheryl?" His hand touched her shoulder lightly. She could feel the trembling urgency of his fingers through the fabric of her nightgown.
She gritted her teeth. A voice inside her head shouted, No! Go away, Brad! Don't touch me! One more time will only make it worse, don't you see? His body was tense. His hand on her shoulder was stiff and nervous. He rocked her gently.
"Cheryl, talk to me. You can talk to me. It's our last night. At least we could talk."
She feigned a sleepy moan and scrunched up the covers around her, scooting to the far edge of the bed. She had done the same thing before, many nights during the past two years. She hoped this time her performance would convince him once again. But this time he followed her. He slid across the sheet after her, pressing himself against her back. She could feel the hard length of his prick pressing her ass through the nightgown.
I'm not going to be able to get out of it! she thought. He's got to prove it to himself. I know he won't let me out of it.
Brad jostled her again. Then he pulled her roughly down by her shoulder so that she lay on her back staring up at him. "Come on, Cheryl, I know you're faking."
She looked at his troubled face in the darkness. She could see him struggling with his hatred of her and his despair at his own failings.
"Brad," she said quietly, "you know it can't work. I'm sorry. I don't mean to deceive you. But we shouldn't even be sleeping together in the same bed tonight. You know it's nothing against you. It doesn't mean you're not a man, or anything like that. The sex is just a symptom of the rest, you know that. We've talked about it."
It all sounded so sane to her. She wished she could believe it herself.
"Of course I know that," he said. "But I feel so-"
"I know how you must feel. But we just couldn't make it together. We tried for two years and we can't ask for more than that. One more time will only make it worse. We'll go away from each other feeling guilty and mean and angry. It's better if we can be friends."
"But I want you, Cheryl!" He said it in a half-groan, and she knew he was telling the truth.
"I wish you didn't," she said calmly.
Then something clicked in her. She realized that the more they talked about it, the more painful it would become. And the more inevitable. Unless she was willing to fight it out with him, and incite his lust even further by refusing him all night. She resigned herself.
"I wish you didn't, I really do," she repeated softly, unbuttoning the neck of her nightgown.
When she had three buttons open, he said, "I want to see you, at least for the last time."
Nervously, he reached over and switched on the bedside lamp. She stared at him and continued with the buttons. When the last button was open, she sat up in bed and slid the gown off her shoulders. She felt his arms enclosing her from behind. He drew her back down to the mattress, one hand on her bare back while the other ran up her flat stomach to her breasts. He squeezed each one, his rough palm rasping over her sensitive nipples, Cheryl stared lifelessly at the ceiling as he bent his head, lifted her left breast to his mouth, and sucked her nipple between his lips. Almost instantly chills gripped her body. Her nipple grew hard against his teeth. She felt her cunt lubricating. Oh Brad, she thought, her head tossing on the pillow. If we have to do it this last time, then please make me come! No one in my life has ever made me come but myself! Please do it to me this time!
She moaned. Her hands fluttered around his head. She gave herself up to the lovely ache of his lips on her breasts. Then, before she knew it, he had parted her thighs and climbed between them. His prick slid into her. She gasped and felt his belly slap hers as he began plunging furiously into her like a rabbit. God, it's going to be the same! she cried to herself.
She clung to him with her hands, soothing his naked back, trying to make him slow down, "Oh, slow, slow, Brad, do it slow, please!"
But he couldn't or wouldn't hear her. His hard clumsy body swept forward, surging with frantic thrusts. His harsh panting scraped her eardrums. The bed bounced and squeaked.
"Unh ... unh!" Cheryl grunted against her will. She went limp as rubber, barely feeling the rapid cock darting in and out of her. Again she found herself staring patiently at the ceiling.
It was no different. She waited for it to be over. Her body tingled. She wanted to see the slowly with fire, build and build and then come like a bomb going off. But instead she heard his constricted groan and felt the fluid squirting into her. And she thanked heaven. She lay limply beneath him, breathing evenly.
Wheezing, exhausted, Brad slumped over her with his face burrowed in her neck. Finally he raised himself on his elbows and tried to kiss her mouth. She turned her face away.
"Did you?" he asked. His face began to crawl with the panic of a new failure. "Cheryl, did you?"
She pushed him off and kicked away the bedcovers. Then she stood up beside the bed, grabbing a wad of kleenex and stuffing it between her thighs. "Can't you tell!" she snapped spitefully. "Brad, I told you it was no good." Holding the tissue in place, she went down the hall to the bathroom.
"Cheryl, I'm sorry, so sorry," she heard him call after her.
She went into the bathroom and shut the door. I don't feel anything, she thought. Just dirty. Just absolutely filthy.
The tension in her naked body made her hands shake as she turned on the bathtub faucets. When the bath was ready she climbed in and let the hot water soothe her aching nerves. She stayed in the bath a long time, replenishing the hot water when it grew cool.
But even the lovely hot soaking would not relieve the tension in her body. She moved her right hand over her wet thigh and brushed her fingers against the damp hair of her thatch. She hated herself for wanting to do it. She tried to convince herself that it was all right. I have to come, she thought. After all that. I want to come. There's nothing wrong with it. She felt very lonely. The soft lapping of the warm water against her trembling body somehow made her feel even more alone.
But she was not alone. Brad was in the bedroom. He might still be awake. She brought her left hand up her damp stomach to her breasts, rubbing them, softly tweaking the thick nipples erect.
"Hhhhh ... hhhhh!" she panted.
God, go ahead and do it! she told herself. She slid two fingers into her pussy beneath the water level. The pleasure was fantastic. She gasped.
"Ahhhnnnn!"
She heard her tiny gasp echo in the bathroom off the tiles. With her left hand she quickly grabbed the washcloth and stuffed it between her teeth. Then she began to work her fingers in and out of her aching cunt, scraping a knuckle along her throbbing clit and whimpering into the wet cloth in her mouth.
The water splashed over her as she mindlessly bit into the washcloth and drove her hand into her hungry pussy. Delirious with need, she thrashed and yearned. Her burning flesh clenched and shuddered and then, suddenly, she was coming! Her orgasm swept over "her and burned her with spasms. She knew she was splashing water out of the tub onto the floor, gagging into the washcloth.
"Unnghghhh! Unnghghhh!" she gagged.
But it was too fast. And it was over too fast. She lay exhausted. The water grew calm. She withdrew her hand from between her thighs and found that she was crying silently.
Not like this, she cried softly to herself. Not like this. No more, no more. Oh please, no more!
For weeks after Brad left, Cheryl did little. During the day she worked. At night she came home, watched TV, and went to bed. She knew she was living the life of a zombie, but she didn't care. She only wanted to be left alone.
But as the weeks passed, she grew more depressed. She worked as a data processor for an insurance company. As she got more and more depressed she began to make mistakes. The girls she worked with started to worry about her. While married to Brad she had always been friendly with them, but never close. She had often eaten lunch or gone on coffee breaks with two girls named Angela and Kim, simply because they were part of her work team in the large office. And because she enjoyed their company.
Now the two of them seemed to form a pact with the object of rescuing Cheryl from her gloom. Angela was a voluptuous olive-skinned beauty with a rich mane of black hair that fell to her waist. Whenever she spoke her black eyes glittered. She had a small frame but large out-thrust breasts. She was the target of every man in the place. But she kept them at a distance with a mixture of scorn and flattery that Cheryl envied, it seemed so effortless. Cherry herself was very attractive and got more than her share of attention. But she never was able to turn a man away without hurting his feelings, the way Angela did so easily.
Her other friend, Kim, was a tall blonde girl who had what Cheryl thought of as probably the most perfectly shaped body she had ever seen. She was taller than either Cheryl or Angela. She had long muscular legs with smooth tapering calves. Her ass was full and outcurved below her slim waist. Her breasts were high and firm, but not too large. Altogether she was probably the most classically beautiful of the three. But she kept an aloof and icy distance from all the men. Only with Cheryl and Angela did she occasionally lower the barrier of her coolness.
Angela's idea to help Cheryl out of her depression way to arrange for the three girls to go out for dinner together on Friday evening after work, do a little bar-hopping afterwards and get Cheryl out of her zombie like rut.
"My zombie-rut!" Cheryl laughed.
Angela smiled. "Well, you called it that, not me. You know you can't go on like that forever."
"I'm not planning to," Cheryl said.
"Great!" Kim said. "The best time to stop is now, then. We ought to make it tonight instead of Friday. Oh, except I forgot. I have an appointment tonight."
Angela grinned at Cheryl. "She has to keep her mysterious appointment."
"There's nothing mysterious about it at all," Kim said.
"We might just go without you, Kim, if you don't love us enough to break your secret appointments," Cheryl joked.
"Who said I love you two?" Kim smiled. "Go ahead if you want to. I'm not breaking this appointment for anybody."
Angela and Cheryl pouted. "Doesn't love us," Angela said.
"No," Cheryl said. "She's rejecting us."
"You bet I am," Kim said, trying to control her laughter.
So Cheryl and Angela decided to have dinner themselves. Unfortunately, by five it had begun to rain. Neither of them felt much like seeking out a restaurant in the storm, which seemed to grow worse by the minute. They stood inside the glass doors of the office building, looking out at the downpour.
"Well," Cheryl said. "I did leave some hamburger out of the refrigerator at home this morning. I guess we could go to my place and try to so something with it. That is, if you don't mind not eating imagine."
"I'm just worried about getting soaked," Angela said. "I didn't bring an umbrella or a raincoat or anything!"
"I can catch pneumonia in ten blocks. Why don't we call a taxi?"
"Expensive."
"Well, we were going to buy dinner. It won't cost as much as that."
That's right. I didn't think."
They got one of the security guards to call for a taxi. But the rain was fierce and the run from the building to the cab and from the cab to the foyer of Cheryl's apartment house soaked them both to the skin.
"My God, I'm freezing to death!" Angela said through her chattering teeth as they entered the dark apartment, like Cheryl's, her hair was matted to her face and scalp. Their faces were beaded with cold rainwater, their clothes dripping.
Cheryl turned on the lights and the heater. "Here you go, stand here and get warm. I'll turn on the oven in the kitchen and it'll and get warm. I'll turn on the oven in the kitchen and it'll be warm in a few minutes."
Cheryl herself felt chilled to the bone, wet beyond belief. We've got to get out of these wet clothes, she thought. She went to the bedroom and found an old bathrobe for Angela, and one for herself. She took the first one out to the living room where Angela stood shivering before the heater.
Cheryl tossed her the robe. "We've got to get out of these clothes," she said.
"I know. I'm sure I've already got a cold," Angela shivered.
"Well, it'll get worse if you don't get out of those clothes. Well spread them out by the heater and dry them." Cheryl went into the bedroom to remove her own clothes.
"Nobody's getting near this heater for anything!" Angela shouted after her. "Not until I get warm!"
Cheryl waited a decent interval. Then she returned to the living room with her wet clothes and discovered that Angela was not finished. She stood entirely naked, except for her lace panties, in front of the heater. Her beautiful large tits rose slightly as she slipped her arms into the sleeves of the robe and wrapped it around her, tying the sash.
Cheryl realized that she was staring as Angela's eye caught hers. "I ... I'm sorry, I...." she mumbled.
"Oh, don't be silly," Angela laughed. She got a chair and began spreading some of her clothes on its back near the heater. "You know, I'll bet we could both use a drink. You have any liquor?"
"Yes," Cheryl murmured. Still embarrassed, she stood in the doorway, unable to move.
"Why don't you pour us both a drink? Bring your things here and I'll fix them while you make the drinks. You have any Scotch?"
"Yes," Cheryl mumbled again.
"Fantastic!"
Cheryl went into the kitchen. She got the ice from the refrigerator and made them both a stiff Scotch and water. Her face was still hot and flushed. She was burning with shame. Stop it! she told herself. You can just stop it! What a thing to be embarrassed about!
If she were still blushing when she handed Angela her drink, Angela might draw the wrong conclusions. She tried to put it out of her mind, but it seemed as if Angela's large dark nipples breasts were still there before her eyes. She had never felt that way about another woman before in her whole life. Her hand was still shaking nervously, her face hot, when Angela appeared beside her and took a drink off the sink board.
Smiling, Angela lifted the glass. "Here's to your zombie rut."
Cheryl smiled back shyly and slinked glasses with her.
"You must be cold," Angela said. "Look at how you're shaking." She put an arm around Cheryl's shoulders and gave her a squeeze, then drew her toward the living room. "Here I am monopolizing the heater while you're still freezing to death. I want you to stand right there until you stop shaking, okay?"
Quickly, as she walked with Angela's arm around her, Cheryl drank large gulps of the Scotch, hoping it would stop her helpless quivering. But she could feel the warmth of Angela's flesh through the robes. And Angela held her so tightly that she could feel Angela's tit rubbing against her elbow. Stop it! she shrieked silently to herself.
Finally the combination of the liquor and the warmth from the heater began to calm her. She got control of herself. Angela sat nearby in a chair, sipping her drink. She crossed her legs and the skirts of the bathrobe fell away from her bare thighs. But Cheryl was relieved to find she could glance at the exposed flesh without flushing.
"Better now?" Angela asked. Either she did not sense the cause of Cheryl's panic, or she was willing to overlook it.
"Yes."
"I think the only thing that'd make me fill really warm again would be a bath," Angela said "Are you very hungry? We could take a bath, then fix dinner later."
Take a bath? Cheryl thought. You mean together? Oh, of course she doesn't mean that! she thought. Again she felt herself blushing fiercely. She was ashamed. She knew she really would like to take a bath with Angela. Never in her life had she felt so confused.
"I ... ," she hesitated, choking on her nerves. "If-if you want to take one, go right ahead."
"I can take one first. Then you." Angela smiled. She was so matter-of-fact. The tension that Cheryl felt didn't seem to affect her at all.
"Okay," Cheryl murmured, draining her drink. "I think I'll get another. Want one?"
"Sure." Angela handed Cheryl her empty glass.
In the kitchen making fresh drinks, Cheryl heard the water begin crashing into the tub in the bathroom. She began to wonder if Angela was truly as artless about all this as she seemed to be. She knew she would now have to take the drink into the bathroom to deliver it. Her hands quivered as she gripped the glasses. She had no choice but to find out. What was happening here, anyway?
Angela was not in the living room. The burning heat in Cheryl's face flashed again. She told herself not to assume. What am I doing! She thought. I'm acting like a lesbian or something! All because I saw her naked! I must be going crazy!
"Here's your drink!" she shouted toward the bathroom.
"Bring it in here, would you?" Angela shouted back.
Cheryl hesitated. She convinced herself that she was being silly. What could be wrong with taking Angela's drink to her in the bath? Even if Angela were naked, it would just give Cheryl the chance once and for all that her embarrassment was groundless. All the previous stuff was caused by some freak mood, like the fact that she was lonely and Angela was being friendly to her. Seeing it that way made her feel better. She went to the bathroom with both drinks.
When she walked through the door she saw Angela lying on her back naked in the water, smiling up at her. Angela's arms were bent at the elbows, her hands touching her shoulders. Her forearms pressed the sides of her breasts so that they wouldn't go slack. Instead they rose out of the water like two swollen moons, the dark brown nipples spreading out widely from the centers. She writhed a little so that the bathwater lapped over her skin and left it glistening with small drops.
Cheryl felt her face flushing again. Her breath quickened as Angela kept smiling at her. We can't let it come to that, she repeated over and over to herself. No, we can't let it come to that! But she couldn't take her eyes from the lovely swelling breasts and the rest of Angela's shapely body, all shiny from the water.
"Here ... here's your drink," she heard herself saying in a weak voice.
Angela pointed silently to the ledge at the end of the tub. Cheryl put the glass there.
"Would you scrub my back?" Angela asked, her voice soft and seductive. "Mmmmmmm?"
Cheryl shut her eyes and opened them. Everything was becoming so clear. It was no longer possible to think they were misunderstanding each other.
"Yes," she murmured, terrified at her willingness. "But you'll have to sit up."
"Of course," Angela said.
Slowly she lifted herself out of the water, giving Cheryl time to take in every delectable inch of her water slick flesh. She turned her face to the tiled wall, pulling aside the long black hair that covered her back.
Cheryl had to fight her nerves more than ever now. She took the soap and knelt on the floor beside the tub. She began to lather the silky expanse of Angela's lovely back. She kneaded the flesh and long muscles with her fingers, letting herself enjoy the warm slipperiness of the skin under her hands.
"It feels good," Angels murmured softly. "Cheryl, your fingers are magic!"
"I'm glad you like it."
"I love it."
Cheryl poured streams of water down Angela's back to clear away the lather. Angela looked back over her wet shoulder with a plainly suggestive smile.
"Would you do my front too?" she asked.
With a desire she was ashamed to admit, Cheryl nodded shyly. Angela turned toward her. She's making it so hard for me, Cheryl thought. She's trapping me! She knows how afraid I am, and she's enjoying it! And so am I, God help me!
She took the soap and began to rub it across Angela's skin under her neck. Then she continued down slowly until she was actually soaping Angela's heavy breasts. Angela leaned back, supporting her head and shoulders against the wall. Cheryl made a rich white foam of lather over the front of the girl's body, all the way down to Angela's navel.
Angela's eyes were shut. Her lips were parted and she breathed softly but rapidly. Cheryl's hands stroked the slippery flesh of Angela's midriff, but she couldn't keep them away from the girl's large boobs. Slick with soap, the firm globes rolled under her fingers. She rubbed her thumbs across the wide puffy nipples.
She massaged and squeezed them gently, watching a small wince of pleasure twist Angela's mouth.
"Oh, Cheryl," Angela moaned. "Your hands are so good!"
The words excited Cheryl. She was surprised to feel her cunt getting wet in response. The blood was beating in her ears. Quickly she poured water over Angela's body, washing away the soap. Angela opened her eyes dreamily.
"Kiss them, Cheryl," she murmured. "Please."
Cheryl flushed. She suddenly noticed the steaming heat of the bathroom. She looked at Angela's lovely wet body and ached to do what Angela had asked. The girl's big brown nipples were half-erect, damp and succulent. Cheryl's mouth watered. Her tongue yearned for them. But she sucked in the hot steamy air instead and stumbled to her feet.
"No, Angela," she said, fighting it. "No, no, I can't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't."
Angela's eyes were wide and shiny, still darkly dreamy from the warm pleasures of the bath and Cheryl's caresses. But she said nothing to stop Cheryl as Cheryl turned and rushed from the bathroom.