Chapter 9
Arny could smell the heady fragrance of an exotic perfume seeping from Beth's pores as her body began to respond to the fusion with his own flesh. He tried to be passive, but Beth's fingers danced over his flesh, her fingernails teasing his neck, his back, his chest, his thighs. He fought the urge to respond, but his penis betrayed him. It began to stiffen as she wriggled under him, wetting his face and neck with passionate kisses.
He could hear the moaning behind him and had a desire to turn around and look at Madge and John. But he knew better. The whole idea burned him and he wasn't sure what he would do.
"Come on, lover. Loosen up. I have to mount you and with that toy there -" she reached down and fondled his half-hard penis -"you couldn't do a damn thing to me."
Her mouth sought his and her tongue wriggled between his lips like a snake, wagging inside against the roof of his mouth. Flashes of the night before ignited his memory and he began to respond, opening his mouth and allowing her freer access. His body began to move in rhythm with hers, twisting lightly from side to side; and then, at the urging of her pelvis, he began to move roughly against her, feeling the soft mat of her pubis mashing against his stiff prick.
"Now," she moaned. "Like the pictures, Arny, baby. Like the pictures."
She scooted up oh his stomach, dragging her slippery vagina along his heaving stomach. He could feel the coarse pubic hairs grinding into his flesh as she seesawed over him. His prick was as stiff as a pool cue as she reached behind him and clutched it, squeezed and stripped it up and down until his face twisted trying to fight off the mounting desire. He could feel his balls constrict and the semen press against the base of his cock.
"Remember the ball," Beth said, looking at him through slitted eyes. Her mouth was puckered and her tongue danced out, licking playfully at her lips as she raised her voluptuous rear in the air and poised it daintily over his wavering penis. "Your fingers, Arny, baby. They go to work top. Just pretend I'm your wife and you're John." She throatily laughed and lowered herself, reaching between her legs and guiding Arny's swollen staff to the soft lips of her love box.
He grimaced and turned his head, straining to see John and Madge. He caught them out of the comer of his eye kneeling on all fours on top of the pool table. Madge was rocking back toward John as he drove his penis into her unwilling vagina. He was whispering in her ear and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Still -still Arny detected the signs of passion: her reddened face, her trembling arms, her lips tucked under her front teeth as she bit them and tried to fight back the tears - tears of passion, tears of sorrow - Arny didn't know which.
"Pay attention," Beth hissed, digging her sharp fingernails into Arny's chest. She was grinding around on his penis, her face livid and her head cocked back as if she were watching the stars through the ceiling. Her hair swished back and forth across her delicate shoulders as she lolled her head and drove her fingers into his skin. "Work with me, baby." she moaned, letting her weight down. "Grind, baby. Touch me. Excite me. Call me a bitch. Do anything, but just don't lay there like a log!" Her lips moved like a ventriloquist's - unnoticeably.
Arny began to respond. His hips lurched upward as she smashed down and he lifted his body up against hers and wriggled from side to side, feeling her snatch pull at the sides of his penis as he dragged it out and shoved it in. He could hear the steady sucking and slurping of flesh as the fluids in the channel signaled the heightening of their passion. His body trembled and he no longer seemed in control of himself. His mind was removed from the idea that his wife was being coerced into sex only a few feet away. He was back in the bedroom with his lust kitten - she was curled up in bed with him, her hair spilled on the pillow like an open flower, her misty eyes were looking at him, begging him for more. The shudders quaked through him as he reached behind Beth and clutched her buttock cheeks in his hands and drove her down, listening to her moans and whimpers as he felt his engorged rod smashing against her insides.
"More! Fuck me more! Fuck me!"
He missed a stroke and listened.
"FUCK ME. GOD, FUCK ME HARDER!"
"What did you stop for?" snarled Beth as she pumped up and down on him, a look of disdain and disgust on her face. "That's only your wife telling you she's enjoying it all."
Arny craned his neck and saw Madge's hands reaching behind her and rubbing furiously at John's flesh as the man held her against him and rammed his tool deeply into her. His wife's eyes were glazed and the foul words were tumbling out as she lunged back against her tormentor.
"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah. More! MORE!"
Arny couldn't believe it. She was acting like a nymphomaniac, freely giving herself to the man - more freely than she had ever given in to him. Angrily, he turned back to Beth.
"Let's fuck, bitch," he hissed at her this time.
"Wife piss you off?" Beth taunted, smashing down on him and rotating her hips insanely against his swollen staff.
"Just fuck, bitch. Talk later."
Arny felt like acting rough. These people were filth as far as he was concerned and he was going to treat them as such from now on. They wanted to play games; well, he sure as fuck could play games too.
Viciously, he reached for Beth's tits and clutched one in each hand. As he rammed up toward her, he pulled down on the tit until she moaned painfully. Again and again he repeated the action, each time pulling harder until he thought she was going to scream. Tears rolled out of the corners of her tightly shut eyes, but she didn't cry out. She clenched her teeth and hissed - hissed like a snake at him, her eyes burning, challenging him to go further, to hurt her deeper. He felt his fingers tightening around her globes; he felt the skin becoming harder and harder to press as his clutch became more vicelike. His hips were heaving off the sofa as they smacked together. His mouth was dry and he breathed quickly through his nose, snorting and grunting, yanking at the tits in his hands. He wanted to rip them off, pull them out by their roots, and shove them into her face. The thought repulsed him as he slowly understood she was enjoying his torment. A smile of pleasured pain smirked across her face as she looked hatefully omniscient above him.
Angered at himself, he released his grip on her tits and fumbled around behind her pumping ass. The crack of her ass was easy to find and he stretched his hands until he felt the cheeks spread, engulfing his prying index finger.
"Like the balls," he hissed through his teeth, glaring at her. "Like the balls."
"Umph!"
She groaned loudly as, without preparation, he jammed his first finger into her ass and twisted it. He pushed and felt it drive through to the second knuckle as she grimaced in pain. He tried to crook it, but the resilient tissue fought back. He flexed the tip and watched her face soften from the tortured mask she wore seconds ago to a glowing sense of warmth and appreciation.
Arny began jacking his finger in and out, plunging it angrily up into her as she fell down on his staff.
"Use two, Arny, baby. Use two fingers," she mocked, smirking at him again and dragging her sharp fingernails down his belly.
Keeping the one finger in, he shoved the middle one into the tight opening and began to rotate the pair. He could feel the soft tissue give and he expected any moment to hear a ripping as her anus split like a rag. But it didn't. She winced at first, and then her smile returned, her pleasured smile that mocked him and told him he could do anything and it would only be pleasure - never pain. Rotating the fingers, he began to increase his rhythm until they were both sweating and driving wildly against each other.
"Now!" Arny commanded. "Now!"
He could feel the strain on his prostate as he drove skyward, into her. The semen seemed to crawl toward his cock like molten lead laying heavily against his bowels. It inched up to the base of his cock and he thought he would faint if it didn't gush out. It was warm and exciting. It began to inch up the shaft like mercury in a thermometer. Higher and higher it climbed, crawling erotically in the center of his penis, driving toward her sucking twat.
"Umph!"
He rolled her over suddenly and they slipped off the couch and onto the floor. He jabbed quickly and the sperm shot out instantly into her in a steady, warm, hallucinating stream that sent his mind floating and careening off to space. His mouth mashed on hers and he sucked passionately at her extended tongue as she lunged up at him, her legs twining around his waist and squeezing the last ounce of semen from him.
She quivered and thrust into him, trembling and shaking violently as she bit at his tongue and slobbered. "Oh, God. It's good. So good. God!"
Then they lay limply, occasionally spasming, touching each other's flesh gently and looking dreamily into the other's eyes.
"Lovebirds? Oh, lovebirds?"
Arny looked up and saw Madge kneeling before John, licking the sticky semen from the man's limp cock.
"Hope you don't mind, old man," John said casually, running a massive hand through his thick hair. "I just hate to wash up."
Arny said nothing. He groped for the edge of the couch and sat back, watching his wife's pink tongue playing up and down John's oddly shaped penis.
Madge said nothing. Her eyes were closed and she felt sick. She knew Arny was watching; she knew he was looking with hatred at her, but she saw no way out. John had told her to do it; he had warned her again about the tape and pictures. As she lapped at the penis, feeling its bulky fleshiness meeting her tongue, she felt a twinge of warmth spread uncontrollably through her. She had never climaxed as she had moments ago. It had been so fulfilling, so bizarrely ugly she seemed to be thrust onto a cloud where she had floated and looked down at the world through slow-motion eyes. She remembered reaching back automatically between her legs and grabbing his testicles in her palms and squeezing them. It seemed to make him spurt more of ecstatic fluid in her and send her even higher into the clouds.
Now, she was repaying him. Her tongue was cleaning him like a faithful dog as he stood cockily, his legs spread, a cigar in his mouth, his muscular arms folded across his dark, hairy chest. The juices were tasteless, only the shame of Arny watching stung her like vinegar on a terrible sunburn.
"Don't fag out on us, lover," Beth said; climbing between Arny's legs and taking his limp penis in her hands. "We still have a basket to enjoy."
As Beth's practiced tongue laved over his penis, Arny wondered what the basket would be like and if he and Madge would ever be the same when this was all over.
They rested for an hour. Madge and John stood by the pool table where John could easily reach out and pet her, or squeeze an inviting breast, or nibble on her navel. He seemed to be doing the acts purposely to irk Arny.
Bern never took a hand off Arny. Her slender fingers roamed over his body, teasing his flesh here and there as she tried to engage Madge in simple chitchat. It was all like the theater of the absurd to Arny - everyone was united in appearance, yet underneath they acted as if they were separate entities. Yet they were all flesh, all love bites of desire. They were stripped of all the hypocrisy of life except their mouths and their ridiculous minds which groped for the absurd.
Here they were, two married couples, acting like perverted beasts. Two were the hunted, two the hunters. Still, no one seemed to be the prey. They had all enjoyed it -every one of them. Arny had heard Madge's cries, seen her looks of desire. No, they were all wrong. All of them. The only thing left was to try and make it right. But how? Arny didn't know.
"Swap time." John intruded across Arny's thoughts as he approached the couch, tossing two pool balls playfully from one hand to the other like a juggler. Arny looked up and saw his broad, wide-toothed smile.
"Pick a hand?" The muscular man extended his balled fists with the ivory globes tucked inside. "Either hand, Arny, baby. Either hand."
Feeling like the bait on the end of the hook, Arny looked furtively from Beth's smiling face to Madge's lowered eyes.
"What is it?" Arny asked.
"Swap. Swap, baby," John said, shifting his weight lightly and tensing his muscles so the hard, blue veins stood out along his gleaming, tanned arms. "We all shot balls, right? We all got a position, right? We all screwed one way with the other guy's wife, right? Now, baby, you choose one of the two remaining balls. If you pick the one you shot in, you get the basket job with Beth. If you pick the one I shot in, stand-fucking your wife, I get the basket job. It's just a play game, Arny, baby. We swap around. You know, to make things interesting. You think you're going to do one thing, and, bingo! you do something else." He paused and his feet danced excitedly. "Pick one, Arny. Pick one."
Gingerly, Arny reached out and tapped the back of John's left hand.
"Great, let's see what you've won." He opened his fist slowly. "Oh, Arny. You lose, baby. I get the basket you had. Poor Arny, you'll have to turn the basket for me and screw my wife standing up. What a switch."
"Naughty boy, John," Beth said, slapping at his other hand. "I'll bet both the balls were the same."
Hopping on one foot like a small boy who had just won, John scampered back to the pool table and buried the balls in a pocket.
"I'll never tell."
"But." Arny's voice trailed off.
"Speak up, old man," John said, proffering the trio a trayful of fresh martinis. "Don't stutter. Speak."
"But I picked the basket."
"You mean to tell me you think you won?"
"Well, it seems."
"Shit, Arny, baby. I keep forgetting to explain all the rules to you. If you win and I want, then you lose. The same for Beth. We get the first option. Sorry about that, but that's the way we do things. And they are our pictures and tapes, just remember that."
He tossed his head back and laughed, the corded veins of his neck sticking out obscenely as his guffaws thundered through the room.
"Well, let's get on with it. We haven't got all night," Beth said, putting her hand on Madge's back and guiding her to the corner of the spacious room where a pile of brightly colored pillows were tossed atop a thick, plush, purple rug.
"Follow the girls," John said to Arny, pointing his glass in their direction. "I think you'll get a kick out of this."
Arny took the martini and gulped it down, feeling the burning sensation irritate his throat as the gin and vermouth trickled down toward his stomach. He had no idea what this basket thing was about, but he was sure from what had transpired throughout the evening that it was going to be bizarre. He poured another martini, gulped at it, then swayed toward the three figures in the corner.
John pulled a basket from the paraphernalia and hooked a piece of rope around its half moon handle. Standing on a chair Beth scooted up for him, he stretched high toward a beam with a pulley attached to it and threaded the rope into the wheel's groove. He pulled at the loose end of the rope until the basket was sliding up and down freely. He released it and the basket dropped with a thud to the floor.
"Everything looks good," he said, unconsciously scratching at his testicles and eyeing Madge who had remained silent since her cries atop the pool table. "Even you, baby," John said, pulling her close and caressing her breasts with his fingers. "You're going to look even better up there."
Madge cringed as she felt his taunting fingers squeeze her nipple. She looked at Arny's helpless frame, his sloping shoulders, his livid face, and wished for an instant he would lash out at the man's head with his fist, knock him down, kick him, curse him for touching his wife. But she knew he wouldn't, couldn't.
Her eyes focused on the basket and then traveled up the rope to the pulley. She looked questioningly at Beth.
"It's simple, honey," Beth said, rubbing up against her so that her breasts shoved against her arm. "You just sit there in that basket without any bottom in it and your handsome husband will pull you up. My husband will lie on the floor and get a nice, big juicy hard-on. Then, sweetheart," she rubbed harder against Madge's arm, "your husband will lower the basket ever so slowly until...." She tossed her head back and let out a shrill laugh.
Madge shot a glance at Arny, who stood swaying, looking down into the tilted martini glass. She sucked in a deep breath of air. "All right. I'm game."
Arny jerked his head up. Madge's voice was defiant and challenging. She was fighting back, taking it like a woman. Or was she? He didn't know. He didn't know what was the right or wrong way to combat the situation. He took her cue and decided he'd try it her way too.
"Good," he blurted, the words thick in his mouth. "I like a gamy wife." He laughed, spilling the martini on the rug.
"Hey," John said, touching Beth's arm, "they suddenly like us."
"If you can't lick 'em, join 'em," Beth joked, squeezing Madge's nipple roughly.
"Right," Madge replied, returning Beth's pinch with her own brutal squeeze.
Beth's face winced and her face melted to a frown for a moment before she laughed it off. "I guess under all that false morality there is a gamy spirit."
"You guess right, bitch," Madge smirked, feeling gloriously high with her newfound courage and confidence.
Beth's eyebrows rose, then slowly lowered as her infectiously lewd smile returned. "Hop in the basket then, hotpants, and we'll get the show on the road."
It didn't seem possible, but Madge squeezed her firm, round buttocks into the resilient wicker basket. It was uncomfortable, but she smiled pleasantly and laughed, waving her arms in the air and ruffling her hair as if she were having a grand time. She saw Arny's penetrating look and winked at him.
"Looks like I'm going to get screwed good, honey," she said to him as she shrugged her scrunched shoulders.
"Better turn him on or he'll send the dirteee pictures," Arny scoffed, trying to make his voice sound jovial. He looked at his wife and wondered if he could keep up the act. She was jackknifed in the basket with her knees almost touching her nose and her arms dangling over the side. Her rear had sunk down through the tapered bottom of the wicker and looked like a fleshy glob hanging in midair as John pulled the basket up a few feet.
"Wild," Madge said, waving her hands again. "I feel like I'm at the carnival."
"Wait a few minutes and tell me how you feel," John chided, signaling Arny to take hold of the rope. Arny grabbed it and, as the two men's hands exchanged their grip, the basket dropped a few inches toward the floor.
"Ooops, don't let loose, dear," Madge cried.
"I won't," Arny grunted, wrapping the rope around his wrist and bearing down with all his weight.
"I'll help you, lover," Beth said, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his as she pressed her breasts into his naked back. He could feel the pressure slacken as her hands helped hold Madge off the floor.
"Now, fans, the show is about to begin." John lay down beneath the basket and began stroking his penis. Madge tried to look over the side of the swinging basket but every time she leaned, the rope slipped slightly and Arny grunted. John's staff was halfhard as he spoke.
"Okay, Arny, baby. Lower your wife's twat down over my cock."
For an instant, Arny burned. He could feel the blood rushing to his face and he thought of letting the rope drop Madge's full one hundred and twenty pounds on John's stomach. He swallowed hard. "Coming down." He lowered the basket slowly, listening to the beams groan overhead as the rope inched through the pulley.
Madge saw Arny's face come into view and then Beth's. She was being slowly lowered toward the vile man's cock. Her buttocks were spread from the constricting sides of the basket and she could feel her vagina already pried open by the awkward position.
"Coming to ya, baby," she heard John mutter. As the rope crept down it seemed like eons before she felt the stiff tip of his phallus press against her cunt lips. She bit her lip and tried to muffle the painful cry she felt stirring in her throat as the basket glacially sank down and the man's stiff pecker shoved its way without preparation into her dry slot. There was nothing erotic, only something disturbing about the sensation of having his penis stuffed into her. Her arms were aching and her legs were numb. She forced a smile to her lips and said, "You're not turning me on, you know?"
"He will. You bet your sweet nipples, he will," Beth said confidently. Madge watched as the woman released her helping hand on the rope. The basket slipped down abruptly and Madge cried out as a searing pain shot through her. John's cock had rammed into her so far the head seemed to be shoving against her cervix.
"Hold the rope, Arny, or your wife will be coughing up my cock," John grunted as he shifted around. "Now watch closely. Beth?"
"Right here, sweetie."
"Turn the lady on. She isn't having any fun."
"Sure. Hang on, hot pants."
Madge gripped the sides of the basket and waited. Her back was to Beth, but she could feel the woman's fingers touching the edge of the wicker.
"Round and round we go," Beth sang as she began to turn the basket slowly around.
Madge's eyes bulged as she felt the bizarre sensation of John's cock stiffly stationary in her and her vagina screwing around it like the threads of a bottlecap. The room began to swim before her eyes as Beth twirled the basket around faster and faster. Her cunt seemed to be aflame as she felt the tissues pulling and twisting and turning around his stiffening shaft. Arny was a blur and Beth's face became more and more indiscrete as the basket turned faster and faster.
"Ooohhhh. It hurts. IT HURTS." She cried out the words as the burning became more intense, as the walls of her vagina seemed to ignite like phosphorous being exposed to the air.
"Stop it!" She heard Arny shout out the words as the burning ceased and a warm, searing excitement replaced the pain.
"Wo. It's all right. It's better. It's good. Faster. Make it go around faster." Her breasts were burning and the fire grew more and more intense. She was charged and ready to explode. Her V was being churned by his cock, it was being ripped and torn in her mind and the pain was cleansing - it was numbing her of the guilt, replacing her hesitation and reservation with desire. She was panting, sucking in short gasps of breath and clutching at the sides of the basket as it whirled around and around. "I - I'M COM-MING. HELP ME. HELP ME. TURN ME FASTER."
She couldn't fight back the words. They erupted from her an instant before the electrical charge switched on inside her womb and showered her nerves with an endless monsoon of sparkling, effervescent sensations that rocketed her into a numb state of ecstasy. Her head lolled back against the lip of the basket as she felt the warm gushing of John's sperm spewing into her. The spinning ceased and she sat exhausted, looking at the unsteady ceiling.
"Lower her, Arny."
His hands trembling from excitement and fear, Arny let the rope ease through his fingers until his wife lay, still in the basket, among the pillows.
"You were very, very good, Madge," John said, lifting her, basket and all, and laying her on the couch. "I'm proud of you. Now we have one leftover task."
She looked dreamily up at him, her mind still soaring in the soft warmth of her orgasm.
"You have to clean me up, dear. Lick my cock clean like a good little slut."
"Yes," she cooed as he pulled the basket from her perspiring body. "Yes."
As if in a hypnotic state, she watched John climb over her and dangle his limp, juice-covered phallus over her lips. She moved her hands toward the limp member and grabbed it, pulling it gently toward her mouth to suck and lick it clean.
"Looks like your wife is enjoying the little games, Arny," Beth said, pulling the bewildered man toward the disarrayed pillows. "You'll like it too, as soon as you give in. Now, warm me up. We have to do it standing up, silly, or have you forgotten?"
"No, I haven't," Arny said; turning toward her and wondering if his wife on the couch licking John's penis was playing the game for real, or playing it because she had no other choice. In a moment, Beth's tit was in his mouth and the only thing he thought about was burying himself in her warm V and forgetting who and where he was.