Chapter 3
"I simply don't understand the woman," pouted Susan Carter, star of the primetime soap, Gothic Bay. "We got along wonderfully all these years in our respective roles. I've always counted on our camaraderie to get me through a scene-and now this."
Grant, her husband, suppressed his grin. "You're much too tense, babe. Let me rub your back with a little oil. That ought to do the trick."
"I am uptight, but with good reason. I tell you, it's not fair the way she's treating me. This was supposed to help the ratings, not declare war among the troops."
"Get on your stomach, and I'll make it all better."
He watched his slim, brunette wife slowly obey. The twenty-nine-year-old actress, in the dusky light, could have easily subtracted a decade from her true age. Susan took good care of herself, evidenced by the swimming, aerobics and tennis. Her hazel eyes usually reflected high energy, given their spark. Comparatively, he attributed it to ego and ambition. She struggled with change, yet managed to stay abreast of it, ultimately pleasing her fans. The bags of mail delivered to the studio attested to her enduring popularity.
Grant sprinkled oil onto her bare back, then began distributing it over her silken skin in swirling waves. Susan had unhooked her lacy bra, yet retained her matching panties. Down the hollow of her back he traveled, eliciting a stream of "ohs" and "ahs." He eyed her sumptuous buttocks. His wife easily had the best ass in town.
Susan, propped on her elbows, turned to her husband. "Why does she have to be such a bitch?"
Grant sighed. The matter had been recycled several times, yet Susan refused to drop it. He, an actor who starred in an occasional miniseries, could fathom her frustration. "She might be psyching herself for the role and upcoming storyline, babe. Jill is a perfectionist. She subscribes to method acting. Hating you is her way of mustering a deliverable emotion for the camera. It's really not that peculiar when you think about it."
"Sure." Susan couldn't hide her sarcasm. "One day, we're best friends on the show and set. Then the writers get this crazy idea about me stealing her husband and incorporate it in the script without conferencing us. Now she's giving me the cold shoulder, the evil eye, and everybody deems it hilarious." She scowled. "That cunt won't even take my phone calls. She has her answering service take messages. Can you believe that? From me, her friend?"
Grant's thumbs edged toward her appetizing buns, circulating the oil. The scent aroused him. His cock hardened inside his black, silk boxers. "I wouldn't worry about it, sweetheart," he said, modulating his tone. "You're principal characters. The plot must have some acceptable resolution."
"But what if it doesn't?" she fretted. "What if I'm written out because the story taints my reputation and creates animosity among my fans?"
"That's not going to happen. Claudia Berenson makes the show. It's the network's Tuesday night draw." Susan's preoccupation with her onscreen fate advantageously distracted her. The woman was exceptionally built, a work of art. Her fashionably styled brown hair slid seductively over her shoulders. He slipped her panty's waistband over her hips and exposed that mouth-watering butt. He considered himself lucky for having such a desirable wife. "Cutting you loose would be foolhardy, and besides, the studio would put the kibosh on it.
Relax, baby."
Susan realized Grant was removing her panties, yet failed to object. The inner turmoil she faced over Jill Ackerman's estrangement thoroughly rankled her. It hardly mattered that he was removing her undergarment, anyways-he'd decline to have sex if he initiated it. How could she enjoy it when afflicted by a crisis? "I ought to speak to Harry Wilks. I've got some muscle with him."
"I wouldn't involve the producer." Her panties whisked down her slender thighs, over her shapely calves and, finally, from her feet. He gazed at her physical perfection.
"Harry and I are good friends. He'd view it as constructive criticism."
Grant quietly withdrew his boxers. His cock jutted, thick and ready. Massaging her had brutally affected him. He stroked his pulsing member, muffling a groan. His dick badly wanted to be in that ass. "Trust me, baby. He won't. Producers don't like bending to the demands of its stars. Doing so sets a precedent that typically ends in the courtroom."
"I wouldn't cause trouble ... at least, not a whole lot."
"That's an understatement."
"Honey ... are you suggesting that I'm a bitch?"
"Sure. I've been telling you that for years."
Appalled, Susan whirled around and caught him priming his cock. Her eyes narrowed. "Put that away, sweetheart. I won't be having any this evening."
"It may relax you," he huskily commented, kneading her shoulder blades.
"No, it'll relax you ... and piss me off."
Her acidity hardly deterred him. "Can't you push this Jill thing to the back burner? We've beaten it to death. You've been chums for years. This conflict won't last."
"Easy for you to say. You've got the hard-on."
"Can you blame me? I'm proud of my gorgeous wife, an exciting woman."
His remark earned him several points. Flattered, she rested her chin on folded hands and stretched across the bed. "I suppose it's a normal, male reaction."
Grant, warily eyeing his wife, resumed greasing his cock. His dense shaft sawed through his oily fist, the enlarged bulb purplish red. The thought of making Susan squeal provoked him.
Susan dismissed her momentary annoyance and easily forgave her thirty-three-year-old spouse. Grant had enormous charisma, evidenced by the high ratings his television movies routinely garnered. Tall, blond and athletic, he fared best as the rebellious, death-defying crusader in epic adventures. The fool occasionally did his own stunts-a practice she admonished him for, yet couldn't stop. Grant prided himself on having the balls, too. Few stars of his caliber volunteered leaping through fake glass, jumping off cliffs or rolling down a flight of stairs.
Her disturbance over Jill prevailed. "Do you suspect that she's threatened by me? I mean, we dealt with rivalry in the past, and seemed to overcome it. Maybe the storyline reopened that wound."
Grant didn't give a shit about his wife's petty grievances when carefully climbing on top of her. Her thighs absently slid apart, granting him the room to rest his knees. His slick cock spanned her crack, and his chin craned over her shoulder. Reflecting empathy seemed wise. "You're probably right, sweetheart."
Susan might have felt the nudge of his hard dick if she hadn't adamantly focused on Jill. "We once competed for the same role a few years ago-before Gothic Bay. Remember, I got it. I'll bet she resented that."
Grant moved his hips, sliding his thing up and down her groove. Her plush, firm cheeks separated from his manly bulk. He anticipated the quivering press of her rectum, the tingling snare of her anus. The cum boiled in his balls. "Sure, darling, it could be an established grudge."
Susan's brain whirred. "The writers adore me. They give me better lines, snappier scenes. Why didn't I see this coming? It was inevitable."
In gliding back and forth, Grant lubricated the pink, wrinkled opening. Her slipperiness simplified insertion. He lifted his hips and adjusted his aim. Her butt hole puckered his cockhead as he gingerly pushed.
Susan plunged her nails in the pillow. "Darling, what are you doing?"
"Just getting comfortable." He slowly sank into her butt, groaning from the hot closure of her rectum. As expected, those spongy walls squashed him. Clasping her hip, he packed more into her dark passage.
Susan glimpsed him from over her shoulder. Her eyes were moist, her lips rounded. He saw her frozen tongue while leaning further into that chasm. Her ass swallowed another few inches. She didn't bolt, nor try to detach herself. A plea for him to stop never came. He saw himself protrude from that expanded orifice. His bone-hard dick joined them.
Susan closed her eyes when his balls bumped her trembling ass. Her husband completely filled her ass. Unconsciously, she twisted the pillow's fringe with her fingers.
His arm wrapped her, sliding under her shivering flesh and cleaving her to his chest. She writhed against his golden matting, his coarse texture a luscious irritant to her satin skin. He fondled her stiff nipples, tweaking one. His pinch deepened the color in her cheeks.
"Oh, God," she murmured, undulating beneath his touch.
Grant perceived her halting consent. Susan disliked being taken by surprise, but her vexation with Jill produced a different response. Instead of ordering him to gently dislodge his cock, she moved toward him. He increased her intake, ever so slightly, not wishing to jinx his luck. Susan could sober after a sudden jarring and insist he refrain. He yearned to stay in that ass as long as possible.
Susan fanned herself out, her cheek to the pillow, and accepted that hard dick. Grant stuffed those buns, covering her with his man's body. He crammed his thing into that warm, snug void and groaned at her rectum's embrace.
"Yes," she purred, forgetting her current troubles. Clasping her shoulders, he stuck his mushroomed head to the back of her butt hole. She dug her knees into the mattress. He slid into her, holding back nothing. That compact, burrowing pressure up her middle felt good. Grant was gentle, giving it to her in nice, easy strokes. Her anal walls yielded to his lubricated push. When he withdrew half his cock, she sobbed. At the midway point, he crammed every bit back into her dark receptacle. His balls finally pressed her quivering ass. "Ohhhh."
His hand lightly swept her bullet-hard nipples. Tiny jolts bombarded her system. Her head turned from side to side as she digested the tingling flurry. He groped her tits, reveling at their fullness, then gravitated to her pussy. He thumbed the navel before cupping her furry mound.
"Oh, honey," she whimpered, as he clutched her sodden flesh and dragged it tightly to his balls. He tunneled into her, shoving to the bottom of that hot chasm. She gasped and wildly vibrated as he rhythmically plugged her.
For Grant, nothing compared with the crushing twist of a willing ass. Susan occasionally volunteered hers. The circumstances had to be right. Judging from her panting enthusiasm, he gambled correctly. She took his cock without quibbling.
Her pussy got juicier in his grip. He divided the lips, then explored her inner warmth. Those rectal panels yielded to his driving cock, fully receiving him. He kept pumping her, enjoying the smooth descent, the smothering. Her breathing deepened as he fingered the juicy flaps of her cunt, then almost went convulsive when he touched her clit. She jerked in his clutch, yet stayed connected.
Grant tenderly jiggled her and savored the vibrations that resulted. Moisture dampened his fingertips. He fondled that velvety clutch of flesh without straying from her button.
Her hips came alive under his stimulating flick. His wife's ass pushed at him, devouring his cock. He groaned as the jaws of her ass bore down on him.
"Yeah," she panted, "fuck my ass, honey. Fill it with cock. Give it to me hard. Please, I can handle it."
He plunged into her rear, then groaned as that dark squish enclosed him. His dick throbbed in her anal coil, its beat irregular. Spewing into those squeezing cheeks tempted him. He repelled the urge, fucking her slowly.
He rubbed her clit, studying her gorgeous profile. She clearly displayed her satisfaction. He traced the pronounced bud, constantly checking her expression. His wife heatedly responded to his thrusts. He caught her biting her bottom lip when he drilled into her crack.
"How is it?" he muttered in her ear.
She nodded. "More."
He sawed through her backdoor, letting those firm butt cheeks support him. His dick sank into those hot, spongy layers.
She closed her eyes, dealing with that massive thing. It separated her trembling cheeks, deeply stroking her. Her husband gave her so much to fuck. Holding that monster in such cramped quarters was almost more than she could handle. If it hadn't been for his finger, she might not have tolerated the session.
His hair-rough thighs kept her legs separate. Pinning them apart with his knees, he drove his whole cock into her ass.
"Ohhhh."
That his wife made such an allowance furiously excited him. He muscled through that delectable butt, relishing the sweeter friction. Her anus pinched his skin, bunching it at her wrinkled entrance before conceding to his urgent push.
He just hoped she let him finish.
Susan gave him no cause for worry. Only her soft gasps drifted as he pumped her ass. He plunged fully into her, grinding himself between those mouth-watering. His balls strained at her sumptuous crack.
He stroked her faster, speeding her pulse. He could feel her shivering response as he played with her clit. More nectar sprinkled his fingertip.
"You're going to make me cum," she squeaked. "Oh, honey. Yes. Do it. Make me cum."
Grant's staying power was virtually gone. Her whimpers powerfully affected him. He groaned, trying to concentrate on getting her off. His finger moved, and she exploded.
She moaned as he shot into her bowels. His blast of cum brought a prolonged shiver. She writhed beneath him while he emptied himself.
Susan's breathing lengthened. Her orgasm had been incredibly strong, luring her to sleep. Her dark mop of hair fanned across the pillow, revealing her striking profile.
Grant, wiping the sweat from his brow, desperately needed water. Orgasm had left him parched. He rose from the bed, pleasantly lightheaded. The breeze from an open window cooled their dim bedroom.
Moonbeams poured through the diaphanous curtains. They billowed and pitched as the gusts periodically strengthened. He was drawn to the eerie glow, which always lent a mysticism to the night.
Oblong shapes and shadows cast across his manicured lawn. He usually did not make a habit of surveying his property late at night, but something unusual struck him. He peered out his window, as though someone had called him.
Then, the strangest thing happened. The figure of a voluptuous brunette, clad in a see-through nightgown, strolled across the grass. He could almost see her nakedness-the dark triangle of hair between her legs, the pointing nipples. The wind tossed about her long brown hair, whipping it around her frail shoulders. She walked leadenly, as though in a trance.
Who the hell was that? And how did she get through his high-voltage fence? His double gate unlocked solely by radio-activated control. Nobody got through it without a bewildering shock. The woman seemed not to suffer from any electrical burns.
He decided against notifying the police that someone had trespassed. He did not construe the woman as a threat, and guessed she was alone. Susan's slumbering figure prevented him from calling down to her. Waking his wife was the last thing he wished.
Shadows bathed that hourglass shape. Although he'd just gotten laid, her set of curves aroused him. She was intensely striking.
The woman suddenly came to a halt and intuitively looked directly at him. She must have known of his watching and gazed at him. Her emerald eyes sparkled in the haunting light. Their color clearly registered, even in the distance. He detected a sadness about her, as though she carried an agonizing burden.
Grant elected to take a gamble and meet her. He slipped into his robe and padded down the stairs, across the marble foyer, to his front door. Upon throwing it open, however, he found no sign of the mysterious woman. She had completely vanished, as though returning to the shadows.