Chapter 8
Arny tried to pry Beth's fingers from his groin. His face was flushed and his fists were balled into tight knots as he watched John's hands squeezing Madge's breasts.
"What the hell? Are you crazy?" he shouted, heaving forward and releasing himself from Beth's taunting grip.
"Whoa, stud!" Beth said, grabbing him by the arm. "You wouldn't want Madge to know you fucked me last night, would you?"
Her face drained of its color, Madge looked at Arny. "You didn't," she blurted, her hands pushing away John's. "You didn't."
Arny's head dropped so his chin rested against his chest.
"He did, my dear," Beth said, walking to the highly polished console stereo and flipping a switch. The instrument hummed. "And this is what he had to say about you."
Arny winced as he heard his voice crackle and then resonate throughout the room as he told Beth how much better a screw she was than Madge. The tape played through the tension, blaring Arny's passionate words as he seduced Beth.
"Shut it off! Shut it off!" Madge sobbed, covering her face with her hands.
"And you would be interested in these, Arny, lover," Beth said over the din of the tape recording. Haughtily, she marched to a small, metal file beside the stereo and returned with a handful of photos.
"Yes, Arny," John said, leaning back against the pool table and folding his arms. "Your wife fucks like a mink when a strange dick is in her." He laughed.
"Look!" Beth commanded, pulling Arny by the arm to the pool table where the pictures were spread in an even row. "Look at your hotpants of a wife."
"Don't," Madge begged. "Arny, I'm sorry. Don't look."
Arny hesitated for a moment, then compulsively moved toward the dossier spread out on the verdant tabletop. His eyes widened as he scanned the Polaroid pictures. He couldn't believe what he saw; his wife lying rapturously on the sofa with John's penis in her mouth and his head buried in her V.
Snarling, he swung around with the pictures scooped in his hands and yelled, "I'm going to take these pictures and that tape and my wife and get the hell out of here. You're a couple of perverts." He moved toward the stereo.
"I wouldn't advise that," John said, unfolding his arms casually and staring at the enraged man. His muscles tensed and his voice pierced the room's charged atmosphere. "We have another set of tapes and pictures. They're all bundled up in envelopes ready to be mailed to your wife's mother and your boss. Now, if you want to challenge us, go ahead and walk out. But, just so you know the score, the pictures will be made public and the tapes should burn your boss's ears off."
Arny stopped and mashed the pictures angrily in his fists. His mind was confused.
"What do you want from us?" he asked quietly, his teeth clenched together. He stood facing the stereo, afraid to turn and look into Madge's eyes.
"Just your flesh - a few good times every now and then. No money. No crime. Just some good times, some good fucks, the way we like them." Beth was speaking softly as she moved up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her large, firm breasts into his back. "We're not criminals, Arny. We just like young people like you and your wife. All we want is some friendship, some sexual friendship."
"And if we don't go along?"
"The pictures, the tapes, Arny. They'll go out in the mail. They tell it like it is. Your wife is screwing another man, you're screwing another woman. And the way you talked about your boss.... Now, what do you think he'll do? Do you think he'll let it pass? Do you think hell just forget it if you tell him the whole story? Do you think he'll recommend you for another job?"
Arny said nothing. His knuckles whitened as they squeezed around the crumpled pictures in his fist.
"All we want is for you two to enjoy our bodies. We enjoy yours. You just do what, we want to do, without any reservations, and well have a gay time. And," the woman's voice was cold and chilling, "if anything happens to us - you know, we die in an odd way that doesn't look right? - we have a friend who will send the pictures and tapes. So, don't think of any hanky-panky, Arny. Just think of free sex, anyway, anytime you want it."
"Give me a minute with my wife," he said sullenly.
"Sure, Arny," John said casually. "Anything you want. Talk it over, see what you both think. But you don't have much choice. None at all, really."
They stood looking at each other, their eyes downcast, the room filled with silence.
"I'm sorry, Madge," Arny finally said, his soft voice cutting through the thick, oppressive silence.
"What do we have to be sorry for?" Madge replied, sinking down on the couch and holding her temples with her palms. "We did it, it's over, and now we're stuck."
Arny moved gingerly over to her and sat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulder.
"Don't."
"Do you hate me?"
"I don't know. I don't-" Sobbing, she fell into his arms and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "They're brutes, Arny. Beasts. They made me do things I didn't want to do. Awful things. Ugly things. I don't know if I can stand it. I was wrong to let him.... I was wrong...." She sobbed, biting her lip and pulling him close.
"I was too," he said, patting her head and stroking her hair. "We both made a mistake and now we have to pay for it. If there was some way out. Maybe they'd take money?"
"No," Madge whined. "They're rich. They want us. They want us to do things with them. To make love in ugly ways."
"I don't know what to do. We could go to the police?"
"They'd send the pictures. They would. And we couldn't do anything, Arny. What could we prove?"
"I don't know. I just can't let them...."
He lifted Madge's chin up and looked at her wet eyes. She held the lids half-closed, not looking at him.
"I'm not mad," he said gently, lifting her chin higher with his finger. "I'm ashamed at both of us. We were trapped. They had it planned and I'll bet we're not the first."
She looked up at him and her face trembled into a faint smile.
"We'll have to think of something. We can work something out."
"What do we do while we're waiting?" she asked, her lower lip shaking.
"I guess we'll have to go along with them. We don't have much choice. But we won't put our hearts into it. They can't make us like it. And maybe they'll get tired of us and let us go."
"I don't know," Madge said. "I don't know."
"All right. Break it up. Time to play." John and Beth bounced down the stairs - naked. John's upturned penis was half erect and Beth's jaunting breasts stood out from her pliable flesh invitingly.
"We said we'd play pool, and I think we should," John said, going to the credenza and extracting a set of ivory balls. "I want to show you our special game."
"Our rules are no clothes, so from now on whenever you enter the house, just strip down. You can strip now, friends." Beth eyed the pair. "Come on lovebirds, take it off, take it all off and let it all hang out. Pictures? Tapes?"
"Can we wait until we're -we're used to...."
"No. Now, damnit. I thought we had this clear," Beth fumed. "You do what we say when we say it and we'll have no trouble. Now strip!"
Slowly, the couple shed their clothes until they stood in their underwear.
"All the way," John taunted, rolling the balls back and forth in the rack. "Clothes and my special pool don't go well together."
Madge unsnapped her bra and let it slide off her arms. Her skin was covered with tiny goose bumps and her brown nipples stood rigid. Arny stepped out of his jockey shorts at the same time Madge was pulling the slick nylon panties down her slender legs. They looked at each other, embarrassment coursing through their faces.
"Like nudists, you'll get used to it," John said matter-of-factly as he plucked a cue from the rack. His long, upturned penis banged against his thighs as he moved his muscular body around the table, picking at the pieces of lint that lay on it.
"Come on, pick a cue and let's start," Beth said happily, pouring martinis from a pitcher she had brought down with her. She handed one each to Arny and Madge and picked herself a cue.
"The game's simple," John said, resting his cue at his side and sipping the martini. "We have fifteen balls here," he gestured at the V-lined rack of pool balls. "Each ball is painted with a sexual position. Now, each player gets to shoot at one of the balls. Arny, you get the first two Dockets, Madge you get the second two; and Beth and I will share the last two." He paused to chalk his cue and look at the anxious couple.
"Now, Arny. You will be shooting for a position to fuck Beth in. Don't squirm - we use free, easy, realistic language down here. The ball you get in will tell you what you and Beth are going to do. She'll shoot one in too, and you'll have to save your gun to get it off twice. It works the same for you, Madge," he nodded toward the embarrassed woman, "and, of course, for me. Take your time and shoot for your delight."
He centered the cue and smashed into it with the cue stick, sending the ball smacking into the fifteen lewdly painted balls at the opposite end of the table.
"Good break," Beth said, holding her cue up and looking at the balls spread out on the table. "Very good."
"Your turn, Madge." John pulled a cue out of the rack and handed it to her. "Shoot for cocksucking. I like that." John's lips curled back and his cheek with the indented dimple, quivered excitedly.
"You're filthy," Madge snapped, swiping her hand at the stick and grabbing it from him.
"Matter of degrees between us," John said. "We do it freely, you sneak around."
Inflamed, Madge took the cue and blindly jammed it at the cue ball, indiscriminately hitting the balls and scattering them. One of the balls, painted with a figure of a man and woman having intercourse dog-fashion, rolled precariously to the edge of John's pocket.
"Almost got a dog-fuck," John laughed. "Beth?"
With a pool hustler's aplumb, Beth sauntered up to the table, chalked the cue, leaned down, her breasts dragging on the felt, and scrutinized her shot.
"Looks like a basket job for old Arny," she said, squeezing an eye shut and peering along the cue ball's route.
Arny stood stiffly beside Madge still trying to think of a way out of the problem. He watched as Beth hunched over the table, her tit-globes dangling inches off the table, her flaring ass tensed. Her fingers formed a bridge, she slid the phalluslike cue back, and then pushed it forward against the cue ball, sending her target ball plunking into the left side pocket.
"Bravo!" John said, wriggling up behind her and squeezing her ripe breasts. "My perfect wife." He kissed her neck and humped into her ass like a dog, his soft penis flopping against her cheeks.
"Here," John extracted the ball from the pocket and tossed it at Arny. Arny held it, turning it over in his hand and studying the lewd painting. A woman hovered above a prostrate man. She was sitting in a basket with an open bottom and her ass dangled down. The man's penis was shoved into her ass -or vagina -he couldn't tell, and the basket appeared fuzzy, as if it were moving. Both caricatures painted realistically on the ball wore pleasured, erotic-masked faces.
"If you don't understand it now, you will a little later," Beth smiled, reaching down and rubbing her husband's cock. "Your shot."
Arny stood, transfixed in the spot, his feet unable to move.
"Well," John said, "guess I'll have to pick a cue for you." He took one off the rack and handed it to Arny. "It's a real antique, old boy. One of the classics. Good tapered maple wood with the old leather tip. Have to hit the ball squarely, in the old days they didn't have chalk, had to use the whitewashed ceilings to hit the ball off-center."
"Well?" he said impatiently a moment later.
"Go ahead, Arny," Madge prodded, looking at him with forlorn eyes. "We don't have any choice."
Arny moved toward the table, the heavy, ancient cue in his hand. He glanced at the balls. Each stared lewdly up at him. Couples were fornicating in bizarre positions, on top, beside, under, 69, eating anuses, daisy-chained in a circle, rolled up in a rug, squatting, hanging from ropes -none of the positions were without some innovative nature.
Purposefully, Arny miscued and sent the ivory cue ball careening past his target ball and clicking lightly into the orgy of balls near the left corner pocket.
"Don't worry about missing," John said, sounding like a coach. "The balls are pure ivory, They're not very true. That's why most pool players use industrial balls. And, by the way, if you keep missing, I'll have to shoot one in for you, and I guarantee it won't be an easy one."
He laughed and patted Arny roughly on the back. "These are the straight sex balls, I have some sadistic ones if you'd rather play along those lines."
"No," Arny gulped. "No. I'll get one, I'm sure." He moved back to Madge's side. They watched John bend over the table and shoot. The cue clacked into the target ball and it plunked into the side pocket.
"Hell," he mocked. "I get to fuck you standing up, Madge. Ever had it that way?" Silence. "Good, you'll probably turn on then."
"Well, Madge, Arny, seems you two are the only ones who haven't made a ball. Madge, how about tipping in that dog-fashion one?" John waved his hands graciously in front of the cue. Madge approached, eyeing him carefully, and bent over. She sucked in a deep breath of air as she felt John's heavy hand caress the small of her back.
"Just relax, baby. Tap the cue and it will knock that ball in like a prick sinking into a cunt. Easy, baby." His hand had slipped down to the round curve of her ass. He pressed her cheek and she trembled, her breathing coming in short gasps. Trembling, she pushed the cue stick against the lead ball and it clicked, knocking the dog-fashion ball gently into the comer pocket.
"Excellent. Excellent. Now, your husband. Arny?"
Arny had watched John caressing Madge and felt a compulsion to smash the leaded end of the cue stick against the man's skull. He was shaking when he approached the table. John gave him a knowing look that made him angrier.
"Don't get excited about a little rubbing of the wife, old man. Things are going to get a helluva lot hotter before the night is over."
His hands still trembling, Arny aimed the cue at the picture of a woman squatting down over a man's cock. The man's fingers were hidden, apparently stuffed up the woman's anus.
"Now, everyone has shot a ball and we're ready to go to work." John collected the cues as Beth sipped her drink.
"Everyone ought to drink something, to loosen up," she cooed, handing them their untouched drinks. Nervously, Madge and Arny sipped the fluids down, as if communicating without words their need for inhibition.
"Can we - can we do it separately?" Madge asked timorously.
"Certainly not, we're a swing group now, Madge," Beth said, touching the woman's hair with her fingers. "We share everything with everyone. Might pick up a few new tricks that way."
"Come here, baby," John said, crooking his finger at Madge. "We'll take the dog-fashion first."
Madge slowly moved toward him, glancing over her shoulder at Arny who stood like a robot watching. John's hands slipped around her waist and he pulled her to him. She felt her hard breasts mash against his hairy chest and her trembling body shiver as he slid his hands up and down her back, letting his large palms cup her buttock cheeks and draw her in to him. His mouth caressed her soft shoulder and he nibbled up to her neck, watching Arny on the other side of the room as the man's jaw set tightly and his fists balled into knots at his side.
Arny felt the warm touch of flesh pressing against his back. He turned and Beth's arms slipped around his neck, pulling his head to hers.
"Come on, lover. We have some screwing to do."
He didn't resist as she pulled him down on the couch and spread her legs, letting him fit gently between her warm, cushiony thighs.