Chapter 1
MONA WAS HOT.
The snow was piled up on the ground outside, and the fire had long since died out, yet the fire inside her was still high and hot.
She stared at her high-cheekboned face in the mirror, brushing back a luxuriant lock of golden blonde hair. Her full, red, sensual lips puckered tentatively, and her clear blue eyes glistened back at her with an unholy excitement.
It wasn't a bad face at all. She could have been a Parisian tart, or maybe even a high-priced Vegas call girl.
But she was neither. She was Mrs. Frank Durham, and the closest she ever got to feeling as excited as she looked was the yearly club banquet and dance.
Sure, Frank brought home the bread, but she had a raging oven within her that needed tending too. And yet there he sat, reading one of his damned law books, completely oblivious to this sensual animal he had taken for a wife three years ago.
At first it had been all right. Never heaven, but tolerable. Frank was a competent, if methodical, lover. And even if he left her gasping and writhing in voluptuous frustration from time to time she usually found the means to satisfy her desires after he had fallen off into a snoring, choking, contented sleep.
For a time she had thought that was abnormalor that perhaps she herself was. Could she really be craving it too much? Could she actually be some kind of nymphomaniac, the kind she and her girl friends had read about and snickered at when she was in school?
But then she found out that Frank was sneaking out, that he was getting a little-maybe far more than a little-on the side.
Her eyes traveled down the mirror, past her face, over her throat, down between the hollow of her full, throbbing breasts.
Those breasts, with their luscious roundness, their amazingly erect nipples that no blouse, no bra even, could hide-just the sight of them made her blood pulse faster through her veins. Every guy in the neighborhood, every one of Frank's friends, had tried to sneak his hand around them at one time or another, had stared with his tongue hanging out, unconsciously licking and sucking the air around his mouth as he did so.
Her gaze reluctantly traveled down across her flat, firm belly, beyond the flare of her hips. It caught on the creamy whiteness of her naked thighs, and was drawn up as if by some gravitational magnetism to the deeply out-lined juncture where thigh met thigh and ecstasy resided.
God! How many men-and women-had tried to lay an inquiring hand there. How many men were lying awake right now, squirming in their beds, turning away from their wives to think of the delicious fruit, the V above those thighs concealed. They didn't completely conceal it, either, she smirked.
Yet looking directly at the slight protrusion of pink, erect flesh from within the luscious center of herself, still, there was Frank, sitting there, pouring over reports and briefs, jotting down notes, satiating his lusts with other women, piercing deep into their bellies, panting and slavering on their ears, their necks, their nipples. Although she knew he'd never go past the nipples.
Was the man out of his mind? Didn't he realize that he had the best, that anything he wanted she'd give him, that she'd kiss his feet-make love to themif he told her to?
But he hadn't told her to. Not his feet, not anything else. If it wasn't those goddamned law books or other women, it was something else.
So, like every other night, Mona was hot.
Her body trembled, and she brushed talcum on her face to hide the little beads of sweat that kept popping out.
"listen doll," called Frank, from the living room. "I'm going out. I'll be at the law library for a couple of hours. You don't mind, you, you?"
"Of course not," said Mona, minding but resigned.
"Oh, by the way-Travis Bland is coming over later to borrow a couple of books. They're on top of the bookcase in the dining room. Just let him look around for them. He knows which ones they are."
"All right," Said Mona to the back of Frank's head as he strode out the door.
She closed her housecoat, and poured herself a drink, a stiff one. It didn't do much good, so she had another. By the time she had downed a third, none of the knot in her stomach was undone, none of the warm eager tingling between her legs had vanished.
She opened her housecoat again and looked at herself in the mirror. Her nipples were already hard and erect. The liquor had only made them more so.
She put a finger to her wet, open mouth and touched it to the pulsing tip of her breast.
It was as if a bolt of electricity had gone through her. All at once she was on the floor of the bedroom before the mirror, her thighs squeezed tightly together, her hands manipulating the nipples of her breasts as if her very life depended on it.
She tried to keep her hands up there on the luscious globes that stood out so proudly even when she was lying flat on her back, but within less than a minute she couldn't stand it any more. One feminine hand snaked down across her below to that no longer so tiny hidden bit of miracle pinkness below.
"Oh, yow," she moaned as she touched it. Her pulsing nipples were now forgotten as she teasingly and at the same time more and more violently manipulated it between experienced fingertips.
Soon the feeling was making itself felt. At first from far away, like the roar of a tidal wave miles out, then closer, closer, so that you could see the first whitecaps, and finally. Then she remembered. Travis would be coming. Tall, slender, bespectacled Travis, who was someday going to run for mayor of New York or something like that. Travis, who's little Southern wife, Sue Ellen, was the biggest slut on the campus-but who knew how to keep her man happy nonetheless.
She slipped into a modest terrycloth robe, something to cover the black shorty nightie that Frank hadn't bothered to notice, and sat down by the cold, empty fireplace.
She thumbed through the TV forecast. Nothing good was on, so she just leaned back and stared at the ceiling, letting the liquor take effect, letting it drive the quivering desire from her.
She almost had it in the palm of her hand when someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," she called hurriedly, closing and buttoning her housecoat and walking to the living room. "It's not locked."
"Never can tell what kind of an orgy I might be walking in on," Travis grinned boldly, as he entered and closed the door behind him. She saw him notice the flush in her cheeks, "Just doing my exercises when you knocked," she said.
"Mighty cold out there," he said, changing the subject. "I guess Christmas is coming a little early this year."
"I guess it is," said Mona, shifting in her chair. Her robe rode up the white expanse of her thigh as she did so.
"It'll be here in another three seconds or so if you don't adjust that robe," remarked Travis, turning his head away in a grotesque display of false modesty.
"You can turn back now," said Mona, after adjusting herself.
"That's just what I said to Sue Ellen a little while ago. My very words in fact," he grinned.
"Have all would be lawyers got dirty minds?" she asked wearily, hoping to imply that Frank's was just as normal and dirty as anyone else's.
"No," replied Travis. "We have precise minds ... Say, that drink looks good. Do you think I might have one before I pick up the books?"
She nodded, arose and walked to the kitchen, for a fresh glass. When she came back she found Travis seated on Frank's easy chair, his stockinged feet up on the leather hassock.
"All the comforts of home," he smiled, lighting his pipe.
"Not quite all," she reminded him, bending over to fill his glass.
She "was aware of his eyes on her now, and the grin on his face was no longer humorous. It was an obscene leer and she realized that he was looking down her robe, hungrily feasting his eyes on the soft, round, large, throbbing globes of delicate flesh that swung freely not a foot from his face.
She knew that this was wrong, that she should tighten the robe around her and tell him to take his books and leave, but the tingling had started all over again, the quivering of the soft, luxuriant flesh of her loins, the hungry, thirsting, crying need for what a man-any man-but especially this man could give her that even she could not give herself.
He caught her eye, and in a single second before she could put on the mask of impassivity, he knew.
He read every line of the longing, the passion, the unfulfilled desire. And as he read it, the grin grew wider and wider.
"Thanks, lady," he said, downing his drink. "What kind of exercises do you do?"
"Just, the usual," she said, struggling to control herself.
"Ever do 'em when Frank's around?"
She caught the meaning, and the aching twisting knot ballooned to her stomach.
"Well, you can go get your books now," she said tentatively.
"Let me give it a little time to settle," he said, "Why don't you sit here beside me and we'll talk for a while?"
"There's not room," she said, yet her voice was trembling with eagerness.
"There's always room for one more," he said.
He reached out and took hold of her arm. Then, changing his mind, he started to tinker with the belt of the robe. At last it fell away and she stood before him, shaking and quivering in her black, transparent shorty nightgown.
His eyes drank in every inch of her, slowly, confidently, feasting over every secret curve and hollow. He was amazed by her wild nipples-so long and hard. And he was even more amazed by what was down below.
At last he looked up, the grin more lusty than ever.
"I always said you were a real blonde."
"I'm cold," she whispered, almost inaudibly.
"You?" he said, smiling.
She was drawn to his lap, slowly but forcefully. And suddenly his lips were covering her face, racing across her throat and shoulders, to come to rest at last on her breast.
He took the nipple between his teeth, flicking it teasingly with his tongue. She moaned and held him tighter.
He bit her gently, playfully, and she writhed in ecstasy, grinding her "buttocks down against his straining manhood.
Suddenly he had slipped her out of her housecoat completely, and began removing his shirt.
"Not here," she whispered. "The bedroom. Carry me into the bedroom."
"Why wait?"
"I'll make it worth your while." He did it, though the waiting was torture. But in a few seconds they were there, and he was caressing her hungrily again as she stood before him, naked.
He. was kissing her breasts, then her flat tummy, as she pushed his head down farther, farther, pleading with little animal sounds as she did it.
Finally he was there, and it was like nothing she had ever known, nothing she had ever given herself. Even Frank had never given it to her.
"Oh, yow...." she moaned as her fingers gripped his hair in tight little bunches and urged him on.
She knew it would happen soon and she wanted it to, wanted it to with every fibre of her body. But at the same time she wanted to experience every tingle and shock she could out of it, and he was doing it so fast, sohard ... it was going to be upon her before she knew it.
"Wait!" Mona said.
"Wha-?"
"Turn around. That's it. Like that. Now do it. Like that again. But let me ... put my hands around there ... yes, yes ... that's it. I want to watch. I want to watch in the mirror. I want to see it. I want to see you do it. See it happen to me. See what it's like. Oh, yes. Oh yes, that's it. Mmmm. Mmmm!"
She watched the figure in the mirror, the tallish, voluptuous blonde figure with a hunger she had never known before; a hunger that any instant would be satisfied. She watched her giant breasts bob up and down as she twisted and jerked to the too-sensitive sensations that were running through her as his mouth took her in, so that she was no longer giving herself to him now, but taking, moving in and out inside him, grunting and breathing with lust.
Then she felt it. it oozed up within her so that nothing could stop it, even though it would not happen for a few seconds.
"Move away!" she screamed. "Ah! Ah! No-don't stop touching me-just move away a little so I can see. that's it. Ah ... Ah. Aheeeeeee!"
She sobbed as she watched it happen and then when even she could no longer stand it she closed her eyes and dropped to the floor, hysterically crying for him to do something before she went stark raving mad.
He took her then with all the power that was in him. Once. Twice. Then again.
When he finally lifted himself off her and fell heaving on the floor beside her, Mona's thighs and pelvis were still twitching with pleasure.
They lay there for a long time.
"Oh, damn!" he exclaimed, suddenly jumping up from the sweat-drenched floor. "What time is it?"
"There's a clock in the kitchen. Why?"
"They lock up the library at ten-thirty. Frank ought to be home any minute!"
But the clock said nine-thirty, and so they still had an hour to kill.
"You had better pick up those books before you leave," said Mona, "or Frank will know what has been happening."
"He wouldn't care."
"Why do you say that?"
"How often does he make a touchdown, Mona?"
"Every night," she said defensively. "That's a lie, Mona. I can tell from the way you acted."
"That's my business," said Mona. "You get your stuff and go."
"Same time tomorrow?" he grinned.
"Not tomorrow or any other time." She was safe now. She could afford to send him on his way.
"It's a little late for morality and fidelity, isn't it? I mean, after all, you just laid your husband's best friend."
"Go to hell!" she said viciously, her loyalty returning.
"Any time, baby. Wait'll I tell Sue Ellen about you. We might even invite you and Frank to the club."
"I'm not interested in your country clubs," she spat at him.
"It's not that kind of club at all, Mona. They'll love you at this place. Literally. More studs than even you can handle. And with our budget, we can even afford a few more mirrors so that you can get your kicks."
"I've never done this before," sighed Mona, "-and I'm not going to do it again. Now get out of here. Go brag to your little slut and tell her about what a great conquest you made."
"It wasn't such a great conquest," said Travis, with that disarming modesty again. "Anyone could have done it tonight with you. You were just ripe for the picking. In fact, your husband is lucky he doesn't have a dog in the house." He ran his hand lazily down her body, coming to rest at last at the pulsing juncture of her thighs. "Right?"
She knew he was right. She wanted to spit at him, slap him, rip his groin with her nails for saying it, but as the warmth began spreading through her again, she knew that she couldn't do any of those things, that she couldn't even lyingly deny the truth of what he said.
"See you around," said Travis, and suddenly left her standing there, alone and naked against the bitter wind from outside.
She poured herself a drink and hoped that somehow it would stop the pulsing between her thighs and in the erect nipples of her breasts.
But as the liquor went down her throat, she knew she was going to go to the bedroom and do it again.
She didn't want to.
"How many times a day can I do this to myself?" she asked aloud. "Where does it stop? I'm worse than a nympho right now."
The words had a hollow sound, though. It was the feeling within her that was real and deep. She belted her housecoat tighter, as if to keep the urgent feeling locked inside, but it didn't do a damned bit of good.
She paced the floor in the living room for another minute or two, turned on the TV and tried to get interested in something, then turned it off and went into the bedroom.
She shivered with hungry delight when the housecoat fell from her shoulders to the floor. She stepped out of it and picked it up, hugging it to her jutting breasts. Slowly, purposefully, she began rubbing it against them. The friction made her nipples stand out even more, and she moved it harder, faster against them.
She was hot again. Just as hot as she could be.
But she wanted more than before, more than even Travis had given her.
There were a couple of things she'd always wanted to do to herself, but the urgency of her desire and the little bit of inhibition she still had left inside her had always stopped her from doing them.
Now she decided to hell with it.
She walked over and sat down, straddling the overstuffed chair in the corner of the bedroom. Her thighs tightened around it as she took one ripe, big breast in two hands and lifted it in offering.
To herself. it was almost upon her, and she rocked and moaned with it and finally laughed with tears in her eyes as it shook her from head to toe with its force and feeling.
It pounded in her for many seconds, and then the hollow feeling within her cried out for what even she could not give herself, the only thing she couldn't give herself. She saw it lying on the sink and took it in her hand, lowering herself, almost throwing herself on her back into the streaming shower.
"Gee," was all she could say at first when she felt it. But then, the bittersweet word turned into guttural grunts of pleasure as she gave herself a second tremendous but different orgasm. him, half to herself, pulling Frank down to the bed beside her.
"Aren't I always?"
She said nothing, but pushed his head down to her flaming nipples.
"You're the boss," he said, beginning to explore the mysteries of her eager body.
His mouth moved over the tips of her breasts, but it wasn't the same. It was something, it was something good, but the hunger and excitement in her that had been there when Travis let her watch him do that to her in the mirror, and when she had put her own mouth to her breasts, was missing.
He went on, the same as he had dozens of time before, spending a certain amount of minutes-she wondered if it was exactly the same amount every time-on her breasts, then moving into her and spending the same amount of minutes in the act itself.
She moved with him at first, but this time-even while in the throes of passion-a new idea came into her head. It was an idea that was built on hate of him and the high passion she had known earlier.
Why should she waste it on him-that wonderful feeling?
Why should she let him bring her to an orgasm that was weak compared to the one she could give herself?
To hell with it again! She thought.
She moved with him, but held back. It wasn't easy. The fires were burning inside her for any kind of release, no matter how half-baked. But she did it. She pretended when it happened to him that it was also happening to her.
When he moved from her, she kissed him perfunctorily and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
But she did much more than that. Still burning, more than ever now, she turned on the shower loud and hot, so hot it almost burned her at first when she sat down straddling the smooth tub.
Oh, it was good. So good.
He was such an ass, she thought, as she repeated the ritual she had begun less than half an hour ago. And this time she knew she would repeat it to the finish.
He's such an ass, she thought, as her thighs pressed against the sides of the tub, almost threatening to crush it with their woman's force. She bit her own nipples ever so slightly and screamed a little with the pleasure pain.
She did it again and could not supress a little moan.
Mmm, so good. So goo ... ood.
Sometimes, she thought fleetingly, she would do that other thing. But tonight, this was enough. This was too much, In fact. It was coming upon her now, fast and furious, almost to that wonderful point where it hadn't happened but nothing could stop it.
She bit her nipple once more.
"Are you all right, baby?" Frank said through the door.
It was worse than if he had taken a thin knife to her. She raised her head, gathered all her self-control and said a constrained, "Yes. Fine. Be out in a minute."
She felt the hot water beating down upon her again and noticed for the first time that it was all over the bathroom floor. She'd have to wipe that up, she thought, but the idea soon vanished from her mind as another idea drove in.
The idea of what was happening to her.
The feeling hadn't left It was strong now, Her head bent lower, lower, her blonde hair falling over her chest in a golden splendor. Her tongue flicked out and touched the erect nipple that was being pushed outward between her fingers.
"Oh, I never thought...." she said.
She did it again.
"Ohh. Ohh!"
She began moving her lips hungrily over her own bosom. "Oh, oh, oh, oh."
Her thighs began to press down and together at the same time. She looked like she was riding a rocking horse, frantically, like a child would, her head bobbing back and forth, her thighs up and down, her breast held rigid.
She was that way when the sound of the front door opening somehow reached her flaming ear.
She quickly got up-though it took every bit of her willpower to do so-threw. on her housecoat and patted her face with some powder while walking into the living room.
"Hi, doll. Did Travis come by?" Frank asked.
"Yes."
"Give him what he wanted?"
"Yes." She walked back toward the bedroom. "Good. I'll be in bed in a few minutes. I just want to arrange my notes for tomorrow ... "
"Come no," she said. "What?"
"Now. Come to bed now."
"It'll only take a minute."
"Get up early and do it in the morning, she pleaded, putting her arms around his neck, drawing his lips down to her panting, eager mouth.
"Who am I to resist?" he laughed, following her into the bedroom.
"Be good tonight, baby!" she whispered, half to