Chapter 3
Jack Lynch was suddenly crawling all over her, his hands slipping down between the slippery fabric of her dress and the smooth flat plane of her stomach in a lewd attempt to infiltrate his fingers into the soft pubic hair of her pussy as Joan weakly did her best to fight him off. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, deftly stroking and caressing her nipples and thighs and stomach and loins and the young wife lay back submissively on the sofa, a feeling of total helplessness sweeping over her.
"Please, Jack," she whimpered, keeping her voice low so that Split and Liza could not hear her and know how far down the elegant young matron from the suburbs had fallen. "I didn't come here for this."
"It's okay, baby," he answered her softly, his mellow Irish voice helping to calm her fears. "I'm not going to do anything to you that you don't want to do. I just need something to do with my hands while I'm watching the movie. Usually, I can fool around with Liza, but she's over there with Split, and you're available."
"You mean...you mean you and...Liza?" asked the woman naively, her body relaxing a little now that they were talking like two civilized human beings and no longer groping on the couch like a pair of animals.
"Shit, honey, Liza bounces back and forth between me and Split like a tennis ball," the photographer confided easily. "We don't stand on ceremony around here. You should remember that."
It was a low blow, reminding her that there had been a time when she, herself, had not worried quite so much about her chastity and lady-like manners; for a moment, Joan gave up fighting back completely, her mind clouded by a sudden rush of memories while Lynch inched his hands down under her dress, stroking the golden skin of her flanks and buttocks. Upon the screen before them, the savage rape of the young French girl's mouth was continuing, and Joan helplessly found that her eyes were glued to the moving images which danced across the walls. The girl's cheeks were alternately hollowing and swelling as the gangster fucked savagely into her mouth, her ovaled lips clinging to the massive glistening shaft of his cock every time he thrust himself into her. Each stroke seemed to take him farther and farther towards the back of her throat, and his pace was gradually increasing.
It's impossible, thought Joan, squirming a little as Jack's hands edged around her flanks and invaded the passion-soaked blonde hair up between her legs, she'll choke to death if he cums into her like that! The film was desperately obscene, but extremely well done in terms of lighting and photography, making it possible for the viewer to follow every intimate detail of the action. Joan's mind was filled with a womanly concern for the welfare of this savagely violated girl, but as she watched, enthralled by the sex scene, the little French actress seemed to be warming up to her task. It made no logical sense at all, but slowly, the victim was turning on to what she had initially been forced into doing. Joan watched in amazement as the girl's trembling white hands reached up instinctively to cradle the softness of the man's balls between her fingers, stroking them as she sucked voraciously on the thick pistoning cock which was ramming in and out of her cruelly stretched mouth. The man was going to cum in another minute, Joan knew instinctively. Without precisely understanding why, she relaxed her own body just a little more, allowing Jack Lynch to push his marauding hand even further into the fragile fabric of her panties, his fingers mercilessly manipulating the wetly inflamed tissues of her cunt.
"Nooooooh," the drugged young wife groaned piteously, gathering her strength to make one more vain attempt to get him to stop, but a sound from the next couch distracted them both. Split's pants were lying neglected on the floor, and the arranger was stretched out comfortably on the couch while Liza knelt over him, her knees on either side of his hips and her naked breasts swaying like ripe fruit below her heaving chest. Beneath her was Split's long slender cock, and he was holding it with one hand so the rigidly quivering shaft was pointing straight up, aimed directly at the wet glistening flesh of Liza's cunt. With a lewd smile playing around the corners of her mouth, the photographer's model hoisted up her skirts so that the couple on the next sofa could see clearly what was about to happen and began to lower her naked loins down on the man's waiting instrument. Her panties had apparently disappeared previously and the only garments she had left were the mini-skirt which was crumpled uselessly around her waist and her long black stockings which ended at mid-thigh, making her exposed white loins seem far more naked than if she had been totally nude.
"My God, they're...they're doing it!" gasped Joan in dismay. The idea of two people who were not married having sexual relations did not exactly shock the young society matron, particularly in the light of her own guilty past, but in her experience, illicit sex was something done quietly in darkened rooms or cars parked in deserted alleys, not in front of observers!
"Sure, honey," the Irishman smiled back at her, as if there was something abnormal about her concern. "People get turned on, and that's where it all ends. Seems like a pretty good idea to me. Aren't you a little excited yourself?"
"No," Joan told him promptly, seeing where his logic was leading them, but she forgot as she spoke that Lynch's prying hand was still burrowing lasciviously through the wetly matted hair of her pussy. Jack's only response to this obvious lie was a dry chuckle, since he could feel the involuntarily convulsing flesh of her vagina with his outstretched middle fingers and knew mat she was excited, no matter what she said.
For a moment, Joan was more confused than ever, not knowing whether she should watch the erotic scene on the next couch, try to get Lynch to stop, or look at the film. The pot had done its insidious work on her dizzily spinning brain, and she found to her dismay that she could not drag her horrified eyes off of Liza and Split, who were just about to make contact. The bulbous head of the arranger's long pulsating cock hovered just beneath the moistly spread lips of Liza's waiting cunt, and the girl reached down and grasped the impaling instrument, lewdly rotating it around in the warmly glistening slit of her vagina and using the gleaming red tip to part the auburn pussy hairs which guarded the entrance to her cunt.
"Oooohhhhhh," Liza's groan of heavenly satisfaction came floating across the room as she settled her lust-fevered body down on top of Split's loins. The man's rigidly piercing cock slid inexorably up the wetly welcoming channel of her cunt, making a lewd sluicing noise as his penis pushed past the clasping pussy lips and speared up into her writhing little belly. For a moment, the photographer's model rested, her eyes closed and a smile of perfect contentment on her' face. Then she began a slow grinding motion, rising up on her thighs until just the firm meaty tip of Split's cock was left inside of her shamelessly aroused pussy. As soon as she reached the top of each cycle, Liza let her leg muscles go slack, dropping her body down heavily again on Split's bouncing loins, impaling herself totally.
Joan closed her eyes and turned her head away, trying to digest this new and bizarre lesson in her sexual education. She had never before watched two people making love, and she would have expected the sight to be repellant or disgusting. To her surprise, she found it quite the opposite. It may have been the marijuana affecting her judgment, but instead pf revulsion, the scene produced a weird tingling sensation all through her love-starved body, and she realized that she was more excited than she had ever been in her life. Could she ever get out of this with her wifely chastity in tact? At this very moment, she was her own worst enemy. She knew that it she slapped Lynch's hands away, and adjusted her clothing, she could probably make it out to her sports car, although whether or not she could drive with the alcohol and the marijuana in her system was another question altogether. The point was basically that she felt no urge whatsoever to bolt for the door. Her mind was confused and upset, but her drug and sex-stimulated body wanted more of the same.
Jack Lynch's free hand caressed her nakedly quivering breasts respectfully for a moment, and then the Irishman ducked his head, fastening his lips around the hardened little nugget of one rosy nipple and sending a shudder of poorly repressed lust through her half-naked body. With his other hand, Lynch continued to play with the softly yielding lips of her rapidly moistening vagina, concentrating most of his efforts on the tiny pink bud of her clitoris, which he rolled agilely backwards and forwards between his thumb and forefinger. Nearly overwhelmed, Joan gave up the struggle and settled back against the cushions of the sofa, her legs widely spread and her eyes once again following the erotic spectacle being projected onto the wall before them.
It was the moment of truth for the French teenager and her abductor, and Joan's eyes widened as she watched the man's buttocks straining and tensing as he thrust himself wildly into the girl's tightly clenched throat, her head bobbing up and down slavishly as she struggled to suck the milky white semen from his body. Suddenly the Frenchman seized the young woman's head in a virtual death grip, thrusting his long thick cock all the way into her throat, and Joan realized in an instant that he was in the act of cumming. The man's buttocks jerked convulsively back and forth as he sprayed the searing cum into the back of her throat, and as Joan watched the girl's Adam's apple bobbing frantically up and down, a strange new sensation began to take possession of her own body.
At first the young wife did not clearly realize what was going to happen to her, but as the spasms rippled powerfully through her over-stimulated body, she suddenly knew that she herself was cumming! The scenes of eroticism all around her combined with the photographer's merciless stimulation of her body all added up to more excitement than her fragile physique could absorb. She was cumming, and there was no way to disuse the fact! It hit her like a ton of bricks, and her legs jackknifed up to trap Lynch's hand between her firm quivering thighs as she fought to suppress a violent groan and failed. "Aaaahhhhhhh!! ! "
"What the fuck?" muttered the photographer, caught off-balance by the sudden switch from resistance to his attentions to complete and utter orgiastic abandon.
"Oh, oh, oh," she emitted little bird-like cries of ecstasy as the spasm raced through her system, and Lynch got his wits together in a hurry, deciding to capitalize on the situation, lifting her clear off the sofa and sliding her skirt and panties off completely in one smooth motion. As soon as he had the groaning woman totally naked and defenseless, he lay her down carefully on the pillows, her jerking, straining legs widely spread while he rapidly stripped off his own clothing, tearing off buttons in his haste to get himself into position before she recovered from the shock of this violently unexpected orgasm. Astonished at the spectacular success of their plot, Liza and Split suspended their own activities for a moment, looking on with open-mouthed amazement.
"Shit, that gal goes off like dynamite!" Split crudely expressed his admiration.
"Poor thing, she probably hasn't had a decent fuck since she married that middle-class prick from the other side of town," contributed Liza happily, delighted that her friend was evidently enjoying herself so thoroughly. But Jack Lynch was wasting no time on idle conversation or speculating on the causes of Joan's incredibly fast response. He had two things he wanted to do right now: Get those pictures taken and get laid himself!
"Nooooooo," Joan moaned, her mind clearing somewhat as the powerful spasm faded and she felt Lynch pushing her legs even farther apart as he poised nakedly over her.
"What do you mean?" he demanded harshly.
"Please, Jack, I never meant it to go this far...." she cried piteously. "I didn't want that to happen...Please let me go."
"Oh, one of those, eh?" the photographer snarled, deciding that the time had come to turn on the heat. "A cock-teaser! You let me jack you off, and once you've got your cookies, you want to call it quits!"
"No, no not like that.. . " she pleaded, seeing the essential justice of his point but not ready to subject herself voluntarily to the humiliation of making love on a sofa in the presence of two other people who were looking on with amused interest.
"Sorry baby, the time to say no was an hour ago," snapped the photographer, knowing that she was now too helpless to deny him anything.
He could do anything he wanted and it was all going to be recorded for posterity by his thirty-five millimeter camera, loaded with a special professional grade of film which could take pictures in very dim light.
Without further comment, Lynch dropped his handsome Irish face to the "vee" of her uncertainly cringing loins, using his thumbs to spread apart the soft blonde pussy hair and sending his tongue lewdly forward, flickering like a lizard into her moistly flowing cuntal flesh.
Click, went the camera softly, but the instrument was cunningly located behind a two-way mirror, and Joan neither saw nor heard it. The shutter release cable ran under a carpet, through the sofa and ended underneath a cushion where Lynch could reach it without difficulty.
Joan groaned and jerked, reacting to the perverse contact between a man's agilely probing tongue and the soft, erotically sensitive flesh of her clitoris. This was another new experience for the girl, and she felt humiliation sweep over her in waves, knowing that Split and Liza could watch her as easily from their couch as she had watched them from hers. Lynch pursued his attack, opening her up even more widely with his thumbs and exposing the moist pink slit of her cunt to his animal gaze. Joan lay frozen, gazing down past her fearfully quivering breasts at his lust-twisted features in helpless submission, finally realizing that there was no way out for her now. She was going to get it, and get it good!
"Ooooohhhhhhh!" she moaned as his tongue fucked into her again, this time stabbing deeply into the convulsing folds of sensitive flesh which bordered the entrance to her defenseless little cunt. In spite of her earnest desire to stop him from abusing her in this depraved manner, the hopelessly aroused young wife could not deny that things were starting to happen again down deep in her loins where she had just finished with the most powerful orgasm of her life.
Click, went the silent camera, filming another document for posterity.
How could she ever face her husband again, the naked young wife asked herself in dismay. He would surely take one look at the sensual guiltiness in her deep blue eyes and know exactly what had happened. She had betrayed him. Or perhaps a better question was this: How could she ever return to her husband's bed, with the memory of this evening in her mind, and be satisfied with his feeble attempts to bring her satisfaction? Was this the start of her career as an adulteress?
Lynch raised his head, partially to see whether the light was falling right on her body, and partially to see what kind of an effect all of this was having upon the girl. One look satisfied him. This would teach her not to waltz into his shop acting as if she were the Queen of England in her expensive new clothing! That stylish top looked real great lying crumpled on the floor! And it had not taken a real expert very long to reduce her to what she really was at heart, a slum child with a taste for waving her legs in the air! So she liked it, did she? Well, there was plenty more where that came from, and Lynch told himself that he was just the man to give it to her.
Laughing softly to himself at the humiliation and shame he was bringing into her startled blue eyes, the photographer hunched down again between her widely spread legs, determined this time to show her a couple of tricks she had not even heard of before. Carefully, he inserted his powerful hands between her thighs and spread her legs even more, pushing the softly flaccid flesh of her buttocks farther and farther apart and lifting at the same time so that her smooth rounded ass-cheeks were off the sofa and the whole flat plane of her loins was exposed to his merciless vision. A beautiful sight, real eating pussy, he mused to himself, sending his tongue flickering forward suddenly to torment the tight puckered little hole of her anus, nestled so sweetly below the palpitating flesh of her cunt.
"Aggggghhhhhh!! ! " she groaned loudly. "Not that, please, not that."
Click, the camera shutter opened and closed again.
By Lynch's only response was a dry heartless chuckle as he moved forward for another bizarre attack on the delicacy of her rectum, his tongue playing lightly around the edges of the virginal nether entrance to her body. One day, he promised himself grimly, one day when you've learned to obey orders a little more, I'm going to come back and visit this little asshole of yours, and I'll use something bigger than my tongue!
Joan clenched her teeth and made one last stand, trying to prevent her marijuana-ridden body from taking control once again as it had a moment ago, but even as she bit into her lower lips, she could feel the familiar signs starting up all over again. Her hips began to jerk up and down spasmodically every time Jack's long slippery tongue fucked into her, and the delicious needles of pleasure were darting through her over stimulated stomach and thighs as she felt his mouth slavering ceaselessly into her.
"Now, baby, I'm going to get mine!" Lynch promised her, lifting his face from the widespread crevice of her wetly throbbing vagina and looking her full in the eyes. "Open up!"
Without understanding precisely why, Joan obediently spread her legs as the photographer levered his powerfully naked body over her. Her buttocks were grinding and twitching impatiently down into the mattress as the photographer bent over her and fastened his teeth on one of her proud young breasts, digging into the tender nipple until she was afraid she would have to cry out with a weird combination of pain and pleasure. . . everything was happening much too fast!
"Man, this chick is getting hot!" Lynch glanced over and boasted to his friends. "When I get through with you, baby, you're never going to want what's available at home again. I got the biggest cock this side of the Central Train Station, and you're going to get every inch of it! So you think that the guy in the movie was big!"
With a triumphant crow, Lynch reared up over her, his massively throbbing penis in his hands, daring her to look at it directly. Joan wanted to do almost anything else, but she was no longer in control of her own body and she focused her eyes, staring down at the instrument he was proudly waving in her face.
It was huge!
Jack Lynch was enjoying the look of fear which swept across her face as she saw the thick rod of pulsating flesh he was preparing to ram into her. He gave her the time to look at it carefully, lewdly stroking the uncircumcised foreskin , back and forth over his heavy blood-engorged cock-head.
"What's the matter, lovely?" he taunted her. "Doesn't hubby have anything quite this size to give you?"
Joan tried to answer him back, tried to defend her husband and to plead with this man not to hurt her, but somehow, the words could not force their way out of her mouth. How could she ever take that thick battering ram inside of her? He would rip her apart!
But the inspection was over, and Joan closed her eyes, fighting off a fainting sensation as Jack Lynch lowered his muscular body down on top of hers. Using one hand, he guided the thick rubbery head of his penis to the wet, hair-lined furrow up between her long tapered legs and divide the fleshy quivering lips of her cunt in preparation for his entrance. As the rigid pole of his throbbing masculinity came into contact with the soft tissues of her vaginal lips, the young wife turned her head meekly to one side, knowing that there was now no way in the world of avoiding this impalement, but not having the courage to look on while it happened to her. She held her breath, not even daring to move while Lynch maneuvered himself into position, applying the first cruel pressure against the tight elastic opening of her tight little cunt.
"Ooooooooh," she groaned as he pushed experimentally, the tip sliding through the desperately clasping portals of her vagina and stretching the tight rubbery opening until Joan felt as if something inside of her was being ripped into pieces.
"Oh please, no, it hurts," she begged him, knowing as she spoke that it was all quite useless. He would hardly beg her pardon and withdraw from her abused tortured cunt at this stage of the game!
The photographer looked down on his nakedly helpless victim and clicked the camera again, grinning to himself as he saw the look of anguish spread across her face. She was suffering all right, and she would suffer some more before he was finished with her. There was a streak of the sadist in Lynch, and something about the cruelty of the situation was turning him on powerfully. He had to finish the job, and quick!
With an abrupt vicious movement, the Irishman dropped down on top of her, his hard muscular chest brutally crushing into the soft warm mounds of her breasts. At the same time, his hips flicked mercilessly forward, sending his long hard cock thrusting up into her belly until he felt his balls smack heavily into the upturned cheeks of her ass.
"Aaaaggggghhhhhh!! ! " came the anguished cry from beneath him, and the girl's arms and legs shot out in agony as if she had just received a spear-thrust in the belly. Lynch's massively thickened penis was completely buried in her stretched little pussy now, pulsating like a living animal which had forced its way into her womb. Never in her entire life, had Joan ever felt so completely filled as she did in this moment.
But Lynch wanted to enjoy this fuck, and he knew that he had to give her voluptuous body a moment or two to adjust to the presence of this massive object in her cunt so that her vaginal walls could begin again to secrete the lubricating fluids which would ease his passage. As it was now, she was so tight that he could barely move, and for a moment he contented himself with lying above her, flexing his iron-hard penis every so often for the pleasure of hearing her moan.
"How 'bout it, lovely? Better than your husband, eh?"
There was no answer as the girl resolutely decided that she would not betray Allen Caruthers any more than she already had. But Jack Lynch knew that he was in a position to make her say anything he wanted to hear, and he flexed his long log-like cock powerfully within her cruelly-stretched pussy.
"Uggghhhh!" she grunted, as the throb deep inside of her sent streaks of pain and pleasure shooting out in all directions.
"Talk to me, lovely," Lynch goaded her sadistically. "Were you about to tell me how much better I am than your husband?"
"Oh please...do whatever you have to but don't make me say it!"
He flexed again, as hard as he could, his virile shaft of flesh seeming to expand rapidly like a' balloon as he strove to break her down just a little farther. Her groan echoed around the room while Split and Liza looked on, curious to see who would emerge victorious from this bizarre contest of wills.
"Nooooooo!"
"Tell me!" he growled at her, triumph gleaming like a light in his eyes. "Your husband's a disaster in bed, isn't he?"
"Yes," she heard herself whisper faintly, not quite knowing where the treasonous word had come from or how it had escaped from her lips.
"Then let me hear you say it, bitch!" he commanded coldly, twisting the softly yielding flesh of her full sensuous breasts in his fingers until she thought she would have to cry out again with this added torment.
"You're better...than my...husband," she whispered finally. It was useless to fight anymore. She had betrayed herself, her husband, everything, and there was now nothing between her and the bottom of the barrel. A few hours ago, she had been a girl with a shameful past, but a respectable present. Now even that shallow consolation had been ripped away from her. She was a whore! Oh God, she had always been a whore, probably she would always be a whore. There was nothing left to hope for, nothing left at all but the searing presence of Lynch's enormous hot cock buried deep up inside her agonized vagina.
The photographer looked down on her with intense satisfaction, realizing that he had completely crushed her spirit. From now on, he would be giving the orders as far as the elegant Mrs. Caruthers was concerned, and in case she ever chanced to forget the moment, there would always be the pictures to remind her.
"Put your arms around my neck," he ordered, his voice softening again now that the victory was plainly his. "I like a woman to hold me when I'm fucking her."
Submissively, Joan complied, wrapping her arms around his neck while he plastered his lips against hers, his wet tongue plunging obscenely into her open mouth. At the same time, his hand dug beneath the cushions of the sofa, and the thirty-five millimeter camera clicked quietly, adding one more frame to the case against Mrs. Caruthers. That job out of the way, Jack Lynch began slowly fucking in and out of the young wife's body, having decided that the time had come to start turning her on. He had suspected from the moment he saw her that there was a hot streak buried somewhere deep in her personality, and it was a personal challenge to him to see if he could bring it to the surface whenever he chose to. It had come out unexpectedly a few minutes before while they were watching the film, and Lynch suspected that it would not take long to bring it out again with just a little effort on his part.
He was right. Joan's body involuntarily began to react, despite the agonizing humiliation to which she had just been subjected. The girl had lost the battle to protect even the smallest portion of her womanly dignity and honor, but there was something about the total slave-like surrender he was demanding of her which sent unwanted chills of lewd desire up and down her back.
And once the process was in motion, there was no stopping it. Within minutes, Joan's whole body was twitching and writhing beneath him, the pain having almost completely disappeared as the sensitive muscles in her cunt somehow managed to accommodate themselves to the presence of this massive throbbing object in her belly. Her face was flushed with excitement, and her nostrils flared as the photographer fucked savagely in and out of her hotly welcoming cunt while a light fragrant layer of perspiration broke out over her forehead. No observer to this depraved scene could have missed the significance of what was happening; impossible as it seemed, Joan Caruthers was once more racing again towards an orgasm!
And again the camera clicked.
Searching to improve his position, Jack slipped his hands beneath the violently flexing spheres of her buttocks, pulling her legs farther apart and opening her up to him even more widely as the tiny moist hole of her cunt loosened up to receive his thick plunging cock. Joan's legs were jerking convulsively in the air while the impaling rod of flesh skewered deeper and deeper up into the moistly flowering depths of her pussy. She had forgotten all her troubles now, her husband, her humiliation, her shame, and the only thing she could think of was the joyful sensation of being fucked half to death by the strong merciless man who was finally giving her what she had been wanting subconsciously for a year. Jack slaved above her, trying to make it particularly good for both of them, his rigidly thrusting cock coming almost all the way free of her clasping young vagina on the back stroke and then burrowing its way forward again until the bulbous throbbing tip struck home against her sensitive cervix.
Seized by an inspiration, the photographer moved his hand between their two nakedly straining bodies, using his fingers to stimulate the soft warm lips of her vagina and the hard little bud of her clitoris. She groaned with the added excitement; Lynch guessed accurately that her end was just around the corner, and got up on his knees to fuck into her harder and faster. He wanted to make this a cum she would remember the rest of her life, and the room was filled with the wetly smacking sound of his loins colliding with the naked flat plane of her buttocks as their two bodies met violently in mid-air, separated for a fraction of a second, and then slammed quickly together again.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah," the shamelessly aroused young wife was chanting mindlessly with each stroke, no longer caring what anyone thought. Her nipples were as hard as little bullets digging fiercely into his chest as she thrust her body up to meet him, coming closer to orgasm with each second. Lynch could hardly believe his eyes as he doubled his stroke. Feeling that it was all about to end at any moment, he fucked into her with all his strength and all his knowledge. Suddenly, her voluptuous body seemed to vibrate beneath him. Then, she was screaming.
"I'm cumming...I'm cumming!" she groaned incoherently, her voice contorted by the fury of the orgasmic spasms which was sweeping inexorably over her. The photographer felt her wildly convulsing cunt flower open to him and the hot gush of her liquid passion flooding around his pile-driving pole as she came. The milking lips of her tight little cunt seemed to be clinging to him as if they were acting independently of the rest of her, and the pressure on his pistoning cock suddenly became too much.
With a gasp, the Irishman felt his long thick penis swell up and begin erupting in a hot lava flow of cum into her frantically quivering belly. Her naked young body was still jerking up towards him spasmodically as she thrashed out the concluding seconds of her orgasm, and his white hot cum mingled inside her overworked cunt and dribbled out along the silken skin of her trembling buttocks, dampening the cushions beneath them.
All of a sudden, everything went limp, and Joan's long limber legs sprayed out in exhaustion on either side of her. Her heart was beating as if she had just been in an exceptionally long race, and her mind began to clear under the exertion of the soul-jarring experience she had just finished. No one seemed disposed to speak or move, and the two of them lay quietly together for a long time, Lynch's slowly deflating cock still twitching restlessly inside of her.
Whatever else happens, she told herself seriously, I must protect Allen. He's too good to have a wife like me and he must never, never know. Never!
But the camera went click....