Chapter 10
Madge sat quietly at the breakfast table reading the book.
"Is that one of their filthy rags?" Arny spat, throwing down his napkin and shoving his chair gruffly from the table.
Nonchalantly, his wife looked at him and answered, "Yes."
"Well, throw it away, for God's sake. Don't read it at the table."
Madge laid it on the table, carefully dog-earing the page. Her eyes were soft and mellow and her voice resigned. "Arny?"
He grumbled and stared at her.
"Look, Arny. We've been going over there every night for a week. They've given us these books to read and expect us to know what to do when they ask. They're getting tired of teaching us things." She paused and sipped from her coffee, looking at him over the brim with her dewy eyes. "We're only protecting ourselves by doing what they say. We both know they're crazy. Why, they could send those pictures any minute of the day, on just a whim. We can't afford not to do what they ask."
"But those books are filthy. The pictures. The instructions. They're a quick course to becoming a sex pervert. I don't want you reading them," he said finally, slamming his fist down on the table and clattering the dishes.
Madge picked the book off the table and tucked it into her duster pocket.
"Maybe you're right, Arny. But we have to skim them anyway. You know how Beth acted the other night when I didn't know what she meant. They're awfully fussy about being satisfied."
Arny couldn't believe the casual way Madge had reacted to the debauched mess since that first night.
"Well, you seem to be turning on without any trouble," he barked. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were enjoying it."
"Don't be silly, Arny. I hate every minute of it. But we have to act like we like it. I heard Beth talking to John about you. You don't seem to have your heart in it. They can tell, you know. You'll have to pretend. I know them; they're very evil people, Arny. We can't risk - "
"Risk! What the hell do you mean, risk? Everytime we go over there it's the same thing. Flesh, flesh, flesh. They scream it at us, they chant it, they wallow in it. I'm getting sick of it, Madge. I'm getting sick of them and I'm worried about you."
Her brows rose haughtily, she looked at him coolly and said, "You needn't worry about me, Arny. I'm not drinking like a sponge. You are. You're a nervous wreck. Now you'd better resign yourself and go along with them. I think they'll tire of us soon and well be free. We're like playthings to them. New toys. Toys wear out. We'll be free. Honest, Arny. Believe me." She stood and came to him. Her duster was open at the top and her bare breast swayed unrestrained against the loose material. She took his face in her hands and pressed it against the opening of her duster, feeling his cool face against her warm breast. "Everything will be all right, Arny. It just takes some time. Some very careful time."
Her voice was like a siren's, lulling him toward the dangerous straits. He tried to resist the urge, but it overwhelmed him. Since the first night with the Hallmans he had been unable to get enough of Madge. She had a completely new aura about her that swirled around him like a butterfly net, capturing him in its web and turning him into putty at the slightest contact with her flesh.
"I'll be late for work," Arny moaned, pressing his face deeper into her soft flesh and nibbling at the scented skin of her stomach.
"You were late yesterday and the day before. What's another day?" she said, stroking the back of his head and pulling him closer.
"I'm not going to get the raise."
"You don't need it. We spend all our free time in bed," she purred.
"Please, Madge," he whined. "I don't want to be late again. I...."
But she was pulling at her housecoat, unsnapping the buttons and exposing the inviting V of her vagina to him. He tried not to look, but the aroma seeped up and tantalized his nostrils. His tongue began to lick at her belly, sliding down below her navel to the crisp hairs surrounding her slit.
In a moment, he was down on his knees, his tie bulging against his throat as he lapped at the slit, stabbing into her with his tongue and feeling her fingers urging him to shove it in deeper, to wriggle it harder, to crook its tip and drag it back against her distended clitoris, to suck on the nubbin and graze it with his teeth, to blow on the appendage and lick it, curl his tongue around it, pinch it with his fingers. The compulsion was overwhelming and the sweat dripped off him as he rotated his tongue around inside her and listened to her moans of pleasure. Her thighs trembled as they pressed against his ears and she began to shudder as the racking shocks of orgasm shattered through her lithe body.
"Ummmm," she moaned, leaning back and rotating her hips against her husband's wet face. "Ummm."
"I have to go," he wheezed. "I'm late." He pushed her gently away and threw some water on his face to wash off the smell.
"Let me suck you first," she cooed, coming up behind him and playing with his hard cock through the trousers.
"I can't, Madge. I can't. My job."
"Please? It's not fair to you to go like that."
"I can't help it, Madge." He pushed her away again and moved toward the door, straightening his tie and looking for his valise.
"I'll suck it quick, Arny. I'll swallow it. Please? Arny?"
She was standing in the doorway, her open duster revealing her breasts and creamy thighs. Her mouth puckered and her eyes were glazed.
"Tonight," he promised hurrying out the door. "Tonight."
As Madge listened to the coughing engine ignite and then roar off down the driveway, she pulled the book out of her pocket and sat down to study it.
We have to be ready, she thought to herself. We're not perverted, but we have to keep up with them. As her eyes focused on one of the pictures, she let her free hand slip down to her exposed V and rub unconsciously - just to set the mood, nothing more than the mood.
"Glad to see you could finally make it, Tillman," Mr. Cullen said acidly as Arny walked in thirty minutes late. Sheepishly, the slope-shouldered man wormed his way through the cubicles to his office and began rifling through his paperwork.
His mind strayed to Madge and John and Beth and the whole lewd affair. He had to do something. His work was suffering and he was beginning to feel the effects of the prolonged bizarre sexual bouts. They were getting to him like the alcohol he was drinking. No longer did he just pretend, but instead, he found himself looking forward to going next door and wondering what he was supposed to do next. And Beth.... He couldn't help thinking of Beth. Her body was so luscious, so voluptuous, her voice so throaty and exciting. And Madge had changed. She wasn't the woman he knew three weeks ago. She was different. She was becoming more and more like Beth. Even the texture of her skin seemed to become like Beth's. And the books. They were making schoolkids out of them, making them study the private collections of sex acts performed in different ways in different positions.
Each night it was something new, something bizarre, something he had never imagined before. And John would make Madge lick him clean after every time, and Madge would do it, like a puppy obeying her master. Beth did it to him too; but hers was a playful lapping, a teasing lapping, not one of adoration. He hated John's smugness, his muscular don't-give-a-fuck attitude, his masculine insolence.
The sex wasn't confined to just their house or the Hallmans'. No matter where he looked he saw something lewd, something vulgar and distorted. Every time Mr. Cullen opened his mouth Arny thought of John's asshole. He thought of the shit pouring out of it in place of the words and of the look that would come to Cullen's face if he really knew what one of his young execs did in the evenings for pleasure.
The secretaries were fair game, too. He saw them all as potential bed partners and imagined how they would be in the odd positions he had learned. He began to categorize them, shoving one here, laying one there. There was Margie, the blonde, with the thin legs but suggestive swish of her ass. She broadcast knowledge, but he wondered what she really knew about fucking and being fucked....
"If you're through daydreaming, Mr. Tillman, I'd like you to get to work."
Bastard, Arny thought as he scowled at the retreating man's back. He grunted and looked down at the figures on the papers. They seemed to swim into one blurry pool. His mind wandered to Madge and then to Beth ... to the secretary in the next room with her golden-colored legs and sensual smile. He imagined what she would be like in the basket, or on the pool table, or in the whirlpool bath where Beth and John had conducted the last session of sex. Arny closed his eyes and thought about the night before.
They had stripped as usual when they entered and Beth had led them to the whirlpool where John was soaking.
"Climb in, pets," Beth had said, urging them into the pool with gentle nudges. The water had felt relaxing as it swirled around his body.
After the four bodies wriggled for comfort in the crowded enclosure, Beth had laid the rules.
"Now, Arny. Naturally, you are going to fuck me, and naturally, John is going to fuck your wife. I want you to dunk your head and suck on my twat. John will do the same to your wife. Then I'll go down on you, and John will let Madge go down on him. The first girl to get her jollies gets a two-way fuck from the guys. The first guy gets a two-way suck from the girls." She tossed her head back and laughed, her breasts making the displaced water ripple as they bounced up and down. "Any questions?"
There never were. Arny and Madge tried not to look at each other during the rites. They carried out the instructions as if they were alone, wrapping their minds in a sensual cocoon that involved only their mate. That way, they had agreed, there would be no hate between them as one listened to the other's animalistic groans of pleasure.
With a blub, Arny had ducked under the water and felt for Beth's thighs. Her skin was oily and slick as he ran his fingers up to find her slot. Following them, he pushed his head through the whirling water and opened his mouth. The water rushed in as he stabbed his tongue out, exploring the wet, soggy hair for the tiny opening he was to manipulate. Dragging his tongue down over the pubic mound, he felt its tip parting the hair around her snatch. His lungs were bursting and, as his tongue touched the slit, he pulled back and rose to the surface to gulp some air.
Beth's dancing eyes met his when he broke surface.
"You were just starting, frogman. Lick me good. Lick all that juice right out of me." He gulped, and she pushed his head down, guiding it back to her V.
He found it more easily this time and rapidly jabbed at the hole with his spear-shaped tongue. Her legs spread and then drew together against his ears, forcing the water against his eardrums. His knees were rubbing against another body in the water and he pressed his toes into the flesh to shove his tongue farther into the inundated slit. He could feel Beth jerking, and the sound of moans and screams filtered through the water. Again, his lungs ached and he exploded up to the surface, choking on some water that had trickled down his throat and made him cough.
"More! Arny. Arny. I'm almost there. HURRY!"
His cock stiff, his face flushed, Arny ducked back under the rushing water and began smashing his face into her V. His hands squeezed her buttocks, yanking her roughly against him as he strained his tongue to become as stiff as possible. As he had been trained, his forefinger teased her asshole, not jabbing it, but tracing around the puckered indentation, poking lightly, dragging along the crevice.
She was quick tonight and just as Arny was about to come up for another breath of air he felt her body stiffen, her legs mash against his ears, her buttocks twitch. Madly, he shook his head from side to side, allowing his tongue to bang roughly against her distended clitoris, sucking at the juices, careful not to swallow - only sucking-sucking - sucking until his lungs felt as if they were going to collapse.
She relaxed, and he shot up, spitting out a stream of water and vaginal fluids as his mouth cleared the surface.
"We won," Beth wheezed, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to her. "We won."
Panting, Arny held her against him and watched his wife standing with her back to him. She was shivering, her head tossing from side to side, her hands jacking John's head against her. Arny could see the man's feet distorted in the water and his hands clutching Madge's ass.
Madge began to scream; a low, throaty scream that developed into a shrill, piercing cry as she sobbed and lunged her hips forward into John's greedy mouth. Then she slumped, letting her head fall forward as the man beneath her surfaced.
Arny's cock was stiff and ached.
"Let's just do it," he said to Beth. "Let's not play any more games. Let's just lie down on the floor and do it." His body trembled and his testicles bulged.
"Games, Arny. Games. They make it all more interesting."
Her toothy smile exploded as her mouth widened into a grin and she laughed.
"Suck time," John bellowed, wiping his mouth with his dripping right arm. "Any time, girls. Go down."
Immediately, Beth ducked under the water and clomped her succulent mouth around Arny's rigid penis. Arny shivered as he felt her mouth sucking deeply on his turgid staff.
"Down. Down." John commanded Madge. "You don't want to lose, do you?"
Madge's eyes glazed and she sank under the water. John groaned, satisfied, as Arny watched his wife's arms snake around the muscular man's waist.
Beth was fast. She came up for air twice before Arny felt his semen pumping up toward her mouth. He grabbed her head and jacked it back and forth across his stiffening cock, feeling her teeth graze the glans and send irritating shivers through his body. It came, as it always came when Beth sucked him. It seemed to boil up and explode out, spitting itself in an exhausting stream into her inhaling mouth. She was like a leech dragging out the blood in his body, sucking it through his cock like a thirsty person drinking from a straw. He braced himself and grunted as the fiery seed spewed into her mouth and she gulped again and again until there was no more.
He looked down at her submerged head as it slowly rose to the surface, its hair fanned out in wet, floating strands, particles of semen rising up from her lips with the expanding air bubbles. He had an urge to kill - a sudden, startling urge to hold her voluptuous body down, to squeeze her throat until her eyes bulged and the bubbles stopped rising out of her open mouth to hold her under until her body went limp and her hands stopped squeezing at his wrists, until she was dead and he was free of the web she was spinning around him, capturing his every wandering thought, turning him into a sniveling beggar, bowing at her feet when she snapped her fingers, licking her vagina at a whim, fingering her asshole - but it was only an urge. It was only a thought, a whimsical, passing flash that disappeared when she broke surface, her mouth dripping with water and fine, thin strands of his semen. It was only an urge, because her husband was behind him. But it would return. And it would become real. He knew it.