Chapter 2

James Smithers was sitting in his office, dictating a letter to his secretary, when his desk phone rang. Since his secretary was not in a position to answer it, he picked it up himself.

"Smithers here."

"I'm sure you're there, dear. You're certainly not here at home with me, that's for sure."

He coughed, and not just from the long black cigar he was smoking. It was partially surprise, for his wife rarely called him at the office unless something important was on her mind. And, partially because he may have felt a twinge of guilt, since his secretary was sitting in his lap while taking the dictation.

Nothing wrong with that, of course. He was treating her more like an uncle than a boss, that's all. Giving her a sort of personal touch.

Still, he wanted to keep the conversation with his wife as brief as possible.

"June, you know I'm always glad to hear from you, but I am rather busy at the moment. Is there anything in particular you wish to discuss?"

"Oh, nothing special, dear. Just that I'm serving you your favorite dinner tonight, that's all." Pause. "I just thought you'd like to know, it would give you something to look forward to. Now, you have a nice day, dear, and don't work too hard. Bye-bye."

He hung up the phone, and turned to his secretary. He said, his voice a bit more high-pitched, more falsetto than usual, 'That will be all for now, Miss Markham."

She smiled, and got off his lap, doing it in such a way that the contours of her buttocks connected with the extremities of his genitals. He could feel his prick beginning to rise before she was even out the door.

He went back to smoking his cigar, punctuated with an occasional sigh.

He was 45, and beginning to look it; his forehead wrinkles had attained a near-permanent crease, and he was getting a pronounced stomach bulge, though not excessively so, yet just enough of a paunch so that others were starting to notice. He wore round, dark-rimmed glasses, which gave his round, pleasant face a sort of professorial appearance. He was an inch shorter than his wife, but walked quite erect, so that most people wouldn't notice. His hair was dark brown and combed straight back; his eyes were also brown, and could be described as either limpid or watery, depending on the person who was doing the describing.

In short, he was a middle-aged executive, and certainly looked the part.

He finished his cigar, and went back to work. He had planned to stay overtime for an hour or two, but not now, not with his favorite meal being prepared for this evening. It gave him something to look forward to; besides fucking his wife, that is. Which, in itself, was still pretty good; yet, there were times when he wished for a change, wanted to try something a bit younger . ...

"Well, fuck it-back to work."

He left the office in time to stop at a nearby cocktail lounge and put away a very dry martini. Just one for the road, he told himself; one double martini.

He drove home, arriving just before six o'clock.

When he walked in the front door, he wasn't too surprised to see his wife wearing a pink peignoir that was open enough to reveal considerable cleavage. He was, however, surprised at the ardor with which she kissed him, her tongue darting inside his mouth and reaming it out nicely, her lips sucking his like a vacuum cleaner.

And, of course, her crotch rubbing wildly against his, giving him the beginnings of a good-sized hard-on.

Well, he didn't mind. Not at all.

She made him take off his coat and tie, and brought him his favorite smoking jacket-and a triple martini to drink. On top of the double he'd just consumed, he could feel the booze start flowing through his system. He leaned back in his favorite chair, smoking a cigar, relaxing his muscles, and wondering if June was going to be especially good in bed this evening.

Soon, dinner was ready, and he went to the dining room, where she had candlelight, their best silverware, imported china dishes-the works.

She served him sour cucumber soup, to start. After the martinis, the soup almost put a permanent pucker in his mouth.

Then, for a salad, jello with whipped cream on top of fresh green lettuce.

The main course was veal scaloppini, very light and tasty. He licked his lips greedily as he devoured the meal; whatever else one might say about June, she was a damned good cook, no question about that.

Dessert was chocolate pie, but he only had one piece. He was worried about his weight, especially after the martinis and all the wine he had put away during dinner.

The meal over, he retired to the living room again, letting his belt out two notches, and lit up another cigar. He wondered if his wife had something on her mind, something new she wanted some money for; that was usually why she went to such extremes in preparing such a gourmet repast, he assumed.

He assumed right.

She came over to him and slouched halfway into his chair, letting her boobs hang out of the peignoir just a few inches from his wide-open eyes. She tongued him in the ear, first whispering, "James, let's go right to bed, I feel so sexy this evening, shall we?"

He didn't have to say a word; he could feel his prick respond by starting to rise.

His prick wasn't as long as he would have liked it to be, but it was wide, almost as wide as a fighting fish, and once it got inside a woman's cunt it was a fighting member indeed. He was still vigorous for a man his age, so he nodded in agreement, and when she was finished with his cars, he said, "Why don't you go to bed first, honey, and I'll be up in a few minutes? As soon as I finish my cigar."

Smiling, she plucked the cigar from his hand and placed it between her cunt lips. He almost pissed his pants when he saw her manipulate her vaginal muscles so that her cunt seemed to be actually smoking his cigar. After a few moments, she returned the cigar to his mouth, and he could taste the aroma of her pussy juice. No doubt about it; her pussy was wet and sticky.

"Don't be too long, dear," she said, swaying and shaking her ass provocatively at him as she departed.

He leaned back in his chair, taking deep puffs from his cigar. No doubt about it; she had his balls in an uproar, she really wanted to be fucked tonight. Well ... he wouldn't disappoint her.

When he had finished his cigar, he went directly to the bedroom. He noticed that she was in bed, the covers pulled up to her breasts, the latter showing, fine and firm, the nipples taut with excitement. He took off the rest of his clothes, and hung them up in the closet. He was not surprised to notice that his prick was just about all the way erect, either.

He sniffed the air. She was burning incense in the bedroom. How romantic, if not aromatic.

He climbed in bed with her.

She placed a hand around his cock, and squeezed it. He said. "Careful, honey, don't squeeze the seeds out until it's in its proper place."

"Don't worry, dear, that's where it's going to go right now."

"Oh, honey

"That reminds me, dear. Please eat me first. I think you'll find it a nice surprise."

He moved himself so as to be in a position to eat her pussy, lie smelled something different, even before he p.ut his mouth against her cunt lips and his tongue into her cunt.

He wasn't quite sure, until he tasted it. Then, he licked his lips, savoring the flavor. It was honey.

She had filled her pussy with wild honey, and he was wild about honey, all right.

He began to lick lovingly, swallowing the stuff in great gulps. As he did so, he could hear her talking to him. She said, "James, do you believe that variety is the spice of life, as someone once said?"

He was too busy eating the honey in her pussy to reply, but she went right on, as if he'd already answered her.

"I think even old married folks like us should have a little variety in our lives, James. I mean, we should consider some sexual variety, for example. ... "

He almost choked on her words-and the honey, too. What the fuck was she leading up to, he wondered? He waited for his phlegm and honey to go down his throat before he went back to eating her again.

"I was thinking of Tom Thompson, he's been so nice to me over the years. ... "

This time, James really started coughing, so much so that June had to slap him on the back several times and say, "Are you all right, James? You shouldn't eat so fast, take your time." She paused, then continued, "As I was saying, Tom Thompson has this nice girl friend-you know her, Cindy Smith, that sexy little redhead-"

This time, James took his time about swallowing the honey. He smiled; he remembered Cindy, all right. The little cunt always gave him a hard-on he had the toughest time getting down. He wasn't sure what kind of an angle June was playing for, but if Cindy was involved-well, maybe he might consider this strange spiel she was going into-matter-of-fact, he wouldn't mind some variety in his sex life at all-Good thing, though, she brought it up first. Now, that would put her in a position so that she could hardly accuse him of adultery if he wanted to play around himself.

He finished eating the honey as she said, "What do you think, James? Should we try a bit of 'swinging,' I believe they call it? Say-once a week to start?"

He pulled his head away from her snatch-there was honey all over her thick pubic hairs, and her pussy juice had also started to churn-and, getting back into position, he kissed her full on the lips, so that she could taste the honey and her own pussy juice.

Her tongue zapped out and touched his, and she licked happily away. From the way she had turned him on, she was feeling pretty sure of herself. Of course, she hadn't discussed the matter of Cindy yet; at least, not with that young lady herself. That was for Tom to take care of.

As her husband kept kissing her, she moved her haunches so that his cock was now directly over her cunt. She got his cock to rub against her clit first, and she could feel those familiar thrills going through herself. As her body began to vibrate, she pulled him closer, her arms around his neck, breasts crushing the hair on his chest.

He was really feeling like fucking, as he got his cock against her cunt lips. She immediately spread her legs wide, and her cunt lips popped open and into position.

He dropped his cock inside.

It slid straight in, in one continuous motion, as her cunt opened itself up wide for his entrance. She really liked the width, the way his cock stretched her cunt open to its limits. Yet, on the other hand, with Tom's cock, she remembered, it was so long that it was pushing practically against her womb, giving her an entirely different feeling.

She was going to like that feeling, too.

Because Tom not only fucked her differently, he was also much more vigorous, due to his youth. She remembered the song about friends turning into lovers. She started to hum the melody as her husband started to hump her.

He began to move himself, up and down, in and around. Her juices were flowing freely now, and she could feel his cock stretching her cunt. It hadn't been a bad marriage, but it had been getting boring lately, because that was the only way and the only position her husband really liked.

No more; time for a change. As he continued fucking her, she could see Tom's smooth young face in her mind's eye. She began to pretend that it was Tom, not James, who was fucking her.

"James, do you agree?"

He mumbled something; he was too busy fucking to be listening to what she was talking about.

But, she insisted, saying, in a louder tone, "James, shall I see what Cindy says? If she is agreeable, is that all right with you?"

"Huhh? What about-Cindy-fuck Cindy."

"That's exactly what I mean, dear. Is that all right with you?"

"Ummm-yeah, sure-whatever you say, June-whatever your little cunt desires-"

She was well into orgasm now, and she was satisfied at what he had said. She began to envision Tom in her mind, turning him naked, seeing him in living and loving color, his cock long and strong, his muscles rippling. Oh, how she looked forward to fucking him again-she had really turned him on that first time-she was sure she knew much more about fucking than that child Cindy-Yes-she could easily handle Tom-whether James could take care of Cindy-was another matter-

And, if he couldn't-why, that would just be his tough luck, that's all. She'd still be fucking Tom, and she'd still stay married to James. The best of both worlds, that's what she wanted-and that's what she would be getting, of that she was sure.

She was sometimes amazed how well she could control her mind; that is, how she could be running a variety of thoughts through her head while in the midst of one orgasm after another. She supposed it was her superior mental discipline that allowed her to do that. Brains before body; but, body when fucking, too.

As she felt her body squirming and wriggling under the influence of sex, her pussy juice pouring out from her vagina and drenching her crotch, she could feel her husband's cock, like a blackjack, writhing inside her cunt. He knew she was really letting it loose, and she knew he was, as usual, having his troubles trying to come as long and as strong as she liked.

She concentrated her vaginal muscles on really working over his cock. Finally, at long last, he came.

He came in a series of spurts, like a string of firecrackers going off. She felt him explode inside her, and she came that much more quickly as he did so. He felt her flowing, practically drowning him in her thick, sweet come.

He kept on coming himself, feeling the pleasure of release, as his sticky sperm spurted into her palpitating pussy. He could vaguely hear her saying, "Now, think of me when you're fucking Cindy, James, do you hear? Do you understand? We can both use some variety in our love life, James, don't you agree?" Cindy-He began to think of Cindy, as he kept right on coming, blasting his sperm into her. Not a bad idea-he was glad June had suggested it-once a week, she said-yes-that might be nice-fucking Cindy-Cindy-While, at this same time, Cindy herself, the subject of their "discussion," was indeed fucking and being fucked. By Tom, of course.

In their small, two-room apartment on the other side of town, where they lived together.

Cindy had a secretarial job downtown, so the two of them could easily afford the place. In fact, they could have afforded something better, but Cindy liked to save her money, so they were banking more than they were spending. She didn't want much material stuff, for the moment; she'd rather have the security of money in the bank.

And, the equally pleasurable security of a cock in her cunt.

This way, it was like being married. Only, she could leave any time she wanted, with no legal hassles; her money in the bank guaranteed her that. Of course, she dug Tom, she loved fucking him and having him fuck her; so, at the moment, she liked things the way they were.

That was Tom's trouble.

Because he was trying to persuade her otherwise.

They were in the small bedroom, so small that the mattress they had dropped directly on the floor took up most of the floor space. The FM radio was on, tuned to a local rock station, and the music was sounding fine as Tom lie beside her, touching her tits and stroking her hair, occasionally dropping his hand to tweak her clit or pat her cunt lips.

Cindy was one of those short girls with long legs who look great in hot pants. She was only five-three, her weight was proportional and her curves were well-placed; yet, she had a nice set of boobs, too, 35B thrusting for a C-cup, two tapered cones that always thrust forward as if a pair of six-guns held by an aggressive cowgirl.

Her face was babyish, with soft features and pale blue eyes; not surprising, considering she was only 20. She had hair the color of country plums, a ripe, rich red shade that hung almost all the way down to her waist. She spoke in a soft, quiet voice, slowly and carefully, so that men had to lean close and listen carefully or they might miss what she was saying.

She did that latter bit on purpose; it always got men interested, and once they got that close, they usually stayed close.

like Tom.

Lying right next to her, his voice persuasive, as he stroked her breasts and said, "Cindy, you ought to give it a try, at least. I mean, as a favor to me-"

"Favor to you?"

"Sure. The Smithers are old friends of mine, and June said that James needed a change of pace-"

"Oh? Since when am I supposed to be some sort of suitcase that you can loan out to your friends to carry their clothes in, or something? Am I supposed to be a rent-a-girl for all your friends to fuck-"

"That's not what I meant, Cindy!" He was getting angry, he was almost shouting. But, he had tasted of June's offerings, and he was beginning to think there were many valid points for June's suggestions. Not the least being June's vast sexual experience, as far as he was concerned.

Sure, he'd loved living with Cindy for the past year. But, she was just a kid, in so many ways. Sure, nice in bed, but still immature. He could really learn from June, really pick up lots of sexual knowledge that he could later apply to Cindy, teach her what's what. Older women had some advantages, especially sexually.

And, June didn't look too fucking old to begin with, either. Besides, they were such old friends-what harm could there be with old friends helping each other out?

She had really turned Tom on, June had.

But, he felt sufficient loyalty to Cindy to try and explain the situation to her. Especially since June had insisted on setting things up that way, to keep friction at a minimum. To keep James happy, as she'd said, and so as not to shake up young Cindy too much, either.

"Look, Cindy, I want you to just try it once or twice, see how it works out-do it as a personal favor to me-I mean, nothing personal with this guy Smithers-"

"Oh? I'm supposed to fuck him, and you say it's nothing personal? I mean, how much more personal car you get?"

He could see that he was getting nowhere with her, by this method of persuasion.

Maybe he should get her much more sexually aroused; then, under the influence of him fucking her, he could probably persuade her better to go along with the scheme.

Especially since he really wanted to fuck June again, as soon as he could. And, she had said, "When Cindy fucks my husband, then we'll make it again. But-not before, Tom-not one fucking second before."

And, knowing June well enough, that was that.

"Besides," Cindy continued, "He's such an old guy, isn't he? I mean, it would be like fucking my father! He's a middle-aged old man-and I love you, Tom, damn you and your weird ideas!"

"That's nice to know, Cindy," he said, noncommitally. "But, if you really loved me, you'd do this little thing for me-"

"This little thing?" Her voice rose into the stratosphere, as her indignation mounted. "You call fucking some old friend of yours a little thing? Suppose I went out on the street and sold myself to the first guy who came along? That would be a big thing, I suppose?"

He slapped her.

She cringed, as his palm connected with her cheek. She could feel the skin turning red. She started to cry.

"There now, Cindy, everything's going to be all right, I'm sorry, I just wanted you to understand some things," he said, soothingly, his voice becoming as smooth and unctuous as a disc jockey delivering a commercial.

And, at the same time, he began to stroke her breasts, his thumb tweaking her nipples, his fingers squeezing into those soft round mounds. With his other hand, he stroked her hair, feeling the fineness of her hair between his fingers, feeling her body begin to respond again to his touch, listening to her breathing become faster and more passionate.

She began to shudder, not entirely in passion. She dreaded the idea of fucking anybody else besides Tom. Especially some dirty old man, some member of the other generation. She couldn't figure out how Tom had got himself into such a situation.

Tom had, of course, told her that part of the bargain required him to make it with June. But, he had glossed over that so quickly, made it seem more like a favor he was doing for an old friend, that she hadn't really caught all the implications involved. To her, it seemed more like she was going to have to fuck some old fart, than Tom was equally committed to making it with the old fart's wife.

And. that was the way Tom wanted it, too.

Let her know he'd be fucking June, but not remind Cindy of that fact too much. Let her get all wrapped up and worried about fucking James, while he made it with lime and learned-and enjoyed-that much more.

It would all work out for the best. It would be a good education for all of them. And, from what June had showed him so far, it would be a lot of fun, too.

Tom began to stroke Cindy's clit.

She had a tiny clit, but it was quite responsive, and it was now erecting quite quickly, under the expert tutelage of his fondling fingers. At the same time, other fingers were touching her cunt lips, noticing the wetness and the responsiveness involved.

She herself could feel her juices stirring inside her, could feel her vaginal muscles begin to expand and contract, in expectation of shortly receiving Tom's cock.

Tom dipped his forefinger into Cindy's cunt.

It was wet, all right; his finger began to massage her membranes, and she began to respond. He could hear her whimpering and sighing, almost crying, and he could feel her body trembling, as she could feel his finger penetrating into those moist membranes.

He leaned over, and kissed her on the lips, using plenty of tongue. She responded passionately, her tongue rising to meet his. He began to ream her mouth, doing it slowly, but with strength, building up the intensity, making her really respond to him.

Then, after some more mouth work, he slipped his head around and started to tongue her in the ear. She really loved that; it always felt like he was fucking her there, and she loved