Chapter 1
The evening started innocently enough. They all took off their clothes and made love. They often did.
Separately of course. Not in a group. They were all good friends, but not that good.
Able Crowell took off his only clothing, slacks and shirt, and stretched out on the bed to wait for his wife Daisy to come out of the attached bathroom. He was already getting aroused by the thought of what they'd probably do. Even after several years of marriage, the thought of making love to Daisy still never failed to stir him up and put him in the mood.
The evening was young. As usual, they'd had an early supper together and after putting the dishes into the washer, Edna Graham had given Chuck a sly look and said that she thought she'd lie down for a while and let her digestion work. Able and Daisy had decided to do the same thing. Fern Lancing had broken the customary pattern by saying that she felt like taking a walk and asking her husband Ben to accompany her During the last couple of weeks the three pairs had fallen into a habit of separating for a time after the evening meal.
A good custom, Able thought as he lay on the bed waiting They seldom made any direct references to what they did during these separations, but everybody had pretty much gotten the same idea. Able listened to see if he could hear Chuck and Edna, but the walls of this so-called cabin, which their boss had lent them, were virtually soundproof. He wondered if Chuck and Edna were making love yet, and he couldn't help visualizing them locked together in a naked embrace.
Daisy came out of the bathroom, and he no longer had any need for visions. She was a vision in herself, five feet six of the most voluptuous curves he'd ever seen, firm of breast and haunch, with an expanse of flat soft-surfaced stomach that was made for love. Though she had a small area of white about her hips and bottom, and her breasts were only lightly tanned, most of her body had become as brown as her hair. She stopped by the dressing table, picked up a brush, and gave her hair a few strokes while he watched the slight swaying of her round, brown buttocks with their narrow lines of white.
"Come on," he said. "Lie down. Relax."
She put down the brush and, smiling slightly, turned toward him. At twenty-eight, just four years younger than he, she was fully matured, her tan breasts high and wide and full, so well supported that she really had no need of a bra. And for the last couple of weeks she'd practically given bras up, as had Edna and Fern.
She climbed onto the bed beside him and sat there on one hip, propped up on one arm. The hang of her full breasts appealed to him and he reached up to finger one nipple. At once his excitement became complete.
She looked down at him, her smile widening slightly. Then she reached out and ran finger tips over his taut tender skin.
"Don't you ever get enough?" she asked.
"Of you? How could I?"
"You've given me more in the last couple of weeks than for months before."
"Well, this is sort of like a second honeymoon, isn't it?"
"Sort of."
Sort of-but not quite. This time they had to coordinate what they did with two other couples. On their honeymoon they'd been completely alone and they'd spent most of their time in their room, naked. They'd made love just as often as he was capable, which was quite often.
He pulled her down to him and kissed her, and they continued agitating each other as before. Then she shifted slightly and brought a nipple to his lips.
He released her other nipple and his finger tips stroked the underside of the orb, then drifted down her brown body to her legs.
"I wonder if the others enjoy doing this as much as we do," he said a little breathlessly.
"Why not?"
Something in her voice surprised him. "You're not bored, are you?"
"No, of course not. I'll admit it'll be kind of nice to get back to civilization, but I've enjoyed having nothing to do but swim, lie in the sun, and make love."
Reassured, he laughed. "And you think the others feel the same way?"
"I imagine so."
She settled down farther on her side, her head on one hand as she faced him, her eyes closed. She shifted her feet so that he could pet her more skillfully.
"What do you think the others are doing right now?" he asked, though the answer was pretty obvious.
She opened her eyes for an instant and closed them again. "Don't you know?"
"Do you think that Fern is playing with Ben the way you're playing with me? And that Chuck is petting Edna the way I'm petting you?"
Daisy sighed as if the subject didn't interest her much. "Why?" she asked. "Does the idea excite you?"
"No, I just think it's kind of nice, people enjoying themselves, having partners to undress with, pet, and make love."
"Have you ever wanted to make love to Fern or to Edna?"
Again she had surprised him. "No, of course not!"
She smiled at his discomfiture and her fingers tightened on him, making him ache with heightened desire.
"Oh, come on, now. You know what we girls always say: it's not when our husbands look that worries us, it's when they stop looking. And I guess Edna and Fern and I have given you plenty to look at lately. Don't tell me you haven't had at least a few thoughts about what a session with Edna or Fern would be like."
"I can't say I've pondered the question."
"I didn't say you'd pondered it. Just a random thought now and then."
"I've thought only of you," he said, giving her a little kiss. He wasn't being quite truthful. He had had a random thought about Edna and Fern from time to time. He told himself he wouldn't have been normal if he hadn't. But he wasn't going to admit the fact to Daisy.
"What about you?" he asked as he moved his fingers, making Daisy pant. "Have you had a random thought about Ben or Chuck?"
"Unfortunately, neither of them is my type."
He laughed. "Unfortunately, did you say?"
"I could never do this...."
Suddenly she sat up. She shifted on the bed and leaned over him, her brown hair flowing softly against him. Then her tongue fluttered and his desire soared as thrills ran through him...." with Ben or Chuck, for instance," she went on as she raised her head.
Then they were kissing, their tongues dashing together, and he rolled her onto her back. Breathing hard, she spread out, feet and hands flung wide. He rose slightly on his hands and knees, trying to find her.
He succeeded.
He moved until they were completely together. She dosed her eyes and smiled and purred.
"Oh, baby, baby," he murmured as he continued wkh loving thrusts.
Edna Graham lay on her side on the bed. She sighed with pleasure as she felt Chuck's fingers traveling lightly about her naked buttocks and legs She was facing his middle as he was facing hers, and she played with him, returning his caresses and kissing and nibbling at him from time to time. He'd been excited and taut for quite some time, and she had no difficulty in keeping him that way.
She loved doing this with Chuck. Twice, before she'd met Chuck, she'd made love with other men, and both experiences had proved to be a let-down. With Chuck, she had never been let down.
She was twenty-seven years old, two years younger than he. She was a blonde; she'd often been told that she was built for just one thing, and her svelte curves were a creamy tan, much lighter than Daisy's tan. If her full breasts weren't quite as seductively molded as Daisy's or, some might say, Fern's, she comforted herself that she had more than either of them and her nipples were much pinker.
She felt Chuck's fingers grip her buttocks and his tongue flutter against her sensitive flesh. She whimpered with delight. Then she kissed as much of him as she could.
"Oh, honey," he said, his voice shaking, "careful! You nearly finished me that time!"
"Want me to?"
"I want whatever you want."
She let him rest for a minute as she considered the possibilities. They seldom used the same position twice in a row. This morning she'd knelt over his lap facing his feet. Last night she'd straddled him while he sat in a chair. Earlier yesterday evening they'd performed standing up in front of the dressing table mirror. And yesterday morning they'd made love in the usual position on the stairs to the second floor while the others were out swimming.
She gave him a final caress, then drew away from him to get up on her knees, her head and shoulders still down on the bed.
She didn't have to tell him what to do. She closed her eyes and felt the mattress sag as he moved about on it to get into position.
His knees touched her legs. His hands took her buttocks and his thumbs pulled at her.
"Take me, take me," she whispered.
With careful movements he pressed forward until his thighs were hard against hers and her buttock flattened.
Then she felt his right hand sliding around her hip and over her stomach to touch her where she was most sensitive. His left hand went around her rib cage to cup a breast and draw at the nipple. She groaned and tightened her muscles. Then he was leaving her. And coming back. So good. So wonderful.
She seemed to be ballooning, enlarging, growing tauter, tenser.
She waved her hips but he stayed with her and kept on.
"Oh, lord!" She hardly knew that she'd cried out. She only knew that everything was falling apart, spinning through darkness, and she was there and Chuck was striking madly and twisting her nipple and letting go of everything, giving everything to her.
She slipped away from him, sank to the bed, and rolled over to look at him, still kneeling there, his excitement almost gone. She sighed from the strange burning contentment of the afterglow, and he flopped forward; they rolled into each other's arms.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Glorious."
"Nobody does that as well as we do." She laughed. "How would you know? Been cheating on me?"
"Oh, not very often."
She rubbed noses with him and patted him about the legs. "You'd better not."
They kissed, long and lingeringly.
"But what if I did cheat," he said. "Would you really be mad?"
"What do you think?"
She wasn't really worried that he might do something like that. She had Chuck well in hand, and she meant to keep him there. He was a young man on the way up and she knew what a catch she'd landed. If she had anything to say about it, Chuck was going to be the next manager of the engineering division of Tri-Compass, Inc. Chuck-not Able and not Ben. And after the managership, who knew what would come next? A vice-presidency?
"But suppose that the cheating didn't really mean anything?" Chuck persisted. "Suppose it was just one of those spur-of-the-minute affairs, no love, no sentiment, just fun and games and glands."
She rose up on an elbow. "Hey, are you trying to tell me that you have cheated on me?"
"Of course not," he laughed, "and I don't plan to. I just wondered if something that couldn't possibly mean anything to me could mean something to you."
She considered for a moment.
"I suppose it would mean something to me," she said slowly, "because making love is a symbolic kind of thing and I'd be the one left out" She shook her head and laughed. "Sorry! Permission not granted!"
"Who wants permission?" he asked, and he kissed her and caressed her breast.
"I can think of just one situation when I might not mind your making love to another woman," she said after a minute.
"When would that be?"
"I wouldn't mind if you let me watch."
He laughed. "If I let you watch!"
"Sure. I've sometimes wondered what it would be like to watch two other people doing it. And if I were right there, watching, I could be pretty sure that it was all in fun "
"Are you serious?"
"Certainly," she said gaily. "Wasn't your question serious? A serious question deserves a serious answer."
"You actually wouldn't mind if I did, as long as you could watch?"
"Why should I? I've talked about doing that with several girls at different times, and as far as I remember they all said they wouldn't mind their husbands or boy friends taking on another woman as long as they could watch. I suppose that most women feel the same way."
"Fern and Daisy?"
"Don't know. Never asked them."
He stared at her for a moment, then smiled.
"You're crazy," he said softly, and they kissed.
I'm smart enough to marry you, she thought. Smart enough to marry an engineering genius ... who loves me ... who'll leave older men like Able Crowell and Ben Lancing jar behind ... who'll be, at the very least, vice-president of Tri-Compass one day....
Still embracing, they sank into a light sleep....
Fern Lancing led the way through the woods, going slowly from one clearing to another. She kept Ben close to her, his right arm around her back and under her elbow so that she could hold his palm against her right breast. His fingers moved against the cloth from time to time, giving her a warm achy feeling and making her nipple swell.
She was a small girl, making Ben look even larger than he was, and he was already taller and broader and huskier than either Able or Chuck. When they made love, she was sometimes almost fearful that he'd crush her, though he was always gentle. Not too gentle, she thought with satisfaction, but gentle enough.
The hand drew at her breast and she smiled to herself. She had something in mind. Something that should be nice. Very, very nice, she thought with a warm glow of anticipation.
She was not only small but thin, almost fragile looking. But her tight black short-shorts revealed a well-rounded little behind that sometimes had a lustful wag, and the front of the thin red cotton blouse, tied between her breasts, was pulled taut by the high round globes. Hers weren't as big as Daisy's or Edna's but they stood out from her chest, perfectly rounded mounds. She was as thoroughly tanned as the other two women, her only white skin being around her loins and buttocks, but in her case the tan was more of a copper color, almost bronze. And that suited her because her long hair had been sun-bleached to various hues of copper which glinted metalically in the light of late day.
Once, as they walked, she stopped and turned to him.
"Kiss me," she whispered.
Then she pressed her whole length up against him, rubbing Mm slightly with the tender, sensitive parts of her body. She brought a leg up between his and pressed gently, loving the feel of him. His shirt was open and she moved a hand over his bare stomach and chest, enjoying his firmness, his strength. They kissed and his hands moved over her back.
She felt his strength growing.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice revealing the beginning of strain.
She smiled.
Then they walked on, just as before, except that she unfastened the front of her blouse and brought his hand to her naked breast. She seemed to be floating on clouds of sensual enjoyment.
She thought herself the luckiest girl in the world to be married to Ben Lancing. He was fourteen years older than she and had been a confirmed bachelor when they'd met two-and-a-half years ago. They'd met quite by accident when he'd come to the state university campus where she was a senior. She'd gone for him at once, but he'd been afraid that they wouldn't work out because of the age differential. He'd visited the campus to recruit engineers for Tri-Compass and she set about the task of recruiting him. She'd had little experience in the ways of love; she'd been a virgin and hadn't even done much heavy petting, but she'd had little difficulty in seducing him. He'd married her, and she knew that he was glad that he had; she intended to keep it that way. She thought that she was pretty realistic about men, especially men who'd grown used to their freedom. Therefore she intended to be understanding, loving, and undemanding and not require of him more than he could give.
But of one thing, she was happy to discover, he could give plenty.
And she wanted some of that right now.
She found a nice clearing well out of sight of the house and there she stopped. She looked at him and smiled. Like her, he was wearing shorts with nothing under them and if she hadn't known before that she had a virile man, she did now.
She stepped up to him, spreading his shirt farther open, and gently moved her beautifully molded breasts against his brown chest. She ran her right hand between their shorts. He smiled and kissed her.
"Right out here?" he asked. "In the open?"
"I've been wanting to. In the open."
"You're lucky you enjoy loving. Since you don't go much for fishing, you wouldn't have had much fun these last two weeks. Sure you haven't gotten bored, just a little?"
"Oh, maybe just a little from time to time, but who can get very bored when they can do this?"
She tightened her fingers and they kissed again. Her hazy, blurry feeling intensified.
"You don't get bored with loving me, do you, darling?" she asked after a moment as they clung tightly together.
"Never."
"And I'll always be Number One with you?"
His fingers swept the tingling curves of her bare back under her loose blouse. "You'll be the only one."
"As long as I'm the only one you truly love."
She pushed his shirt back off of his shoulders and pressed her small white teeth into the flesh of his chest.
"Take off my shorts, Ben," she whispered. "Take them off!"
She felt fingers at her side, unfastening a button, pulling at a zipper. A palm slid smoothly over her bare buttock. The black fabric clung to her thighs.
Then finger tips swept her where she most liked to be touched and she mewed with pleasure. Their mouths met and she lightly bit his lower lip. The tip of her tongue teased about his teeth and was met by the tip of his.
She reached for his waist. He was wearing no belt and she unfastened the button. Taking care not to hurt him., she drew down his zipper and shoved his shorts to the same level as hers.
Now she had what she wanted and she fondled and stroked him, returning the caresses he was giving her. His chest heaved harder with his breathing, and her own breathing was more erratic all the time.
She let go of him, pushed his hands away from her body, and made him take off his shirt.
"Lie down," she said softly. "Lie down on the grass."
He did as she said, pulling her down with him. She sat beside him as he lay on his back. She wasn't usually this aggressive but right now she was in the mood to take the initiative.
His shorts had fallen to his calves and she took them the rest of the way off, along with his sandals. She took her sandals off, too, and then her shorts and last of all her shirt. Then she looked down at him, lying completely naked beside her, took a deep breath and sighed with pleasure.
To her, he was a god. A big naked god, obviously a god of virility who was showing her his magnificent power. Like her, his skin had been darkened by the sun, all but a small white area around the hips.
Again she caressed him, cupping, fondling, toying.
"You like me to do this?" she asked.
In answer, he used actions rather than words. He rose up on one elbow and took her farther bare shoulder, pulling her toward him. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her face closer and they kissed.
Then he moved his hand from her neck to her breast, drawing at the hard-cored soft-surfaced globe from base to bronzed swollen tip. He moved the tip, pressed it in and moved the whole globe.
His hand drifted down her body. His fingers skimmed about her navel, making her jerk and tremble. He reached around her hip to explore her firm, round little bottom, then stroked the fronts and surfaces of her long smooth thighs.
He rolled her onto her back and, as she continued to caress him, he sought and found rougher flesh. She whimpered at the pressure of his finger tips. They stroked her and moved.
The sensations were almost more than she could bear and the best was ahead. She panted and raised her knees, tilting her bottom so that he could do more.
His fingers flexed and that was the moment when she was sure that she couldn't wait any longer. She pushed his hand away from her. She pulled at him.
She told him what to do, bluntly.
He rose up over her middle and she held him with trembling fingers. At that moment she saw only his strength. She brought him to bear on her.
He thrust his way, a little at a time.
Then she had him and held him still.
She sighed.
And then she knew nothing but the rhythmic movement that was shoving her closer and ever closer to the moment of complete ecstasy.