Chapter 5

Tom Lincoln opened his eyes slowly, realized with a sigh of relief that his wife had already gotten out of bed, and then got up to make his way sleepily to the bathroom. He paused momentarily in front of the bathroom mirror to scratch his face awake and give way to a monumentous yawn. Turning on the hot water, he reached for the shaving cream and started to lather his face.

He wondered, idly, whether Jean wasn't beginning to be suspicious of him. He hadn't made love to his wife for at least two weeks though he had tried once. She had begged off with the excuse that she was tired, and that suited him just fine. He spent at least three nights a week with Ingrid, and what with her insatiable appetite it was all he could do to drag himself home after their marathon orgies. If Jean" wasn't going to bring up the matter of his neglecting her in bed, he sure as hell wasn't. Let sleeping wives lie, he chuckled to himself.

Tom had started to take his affair with his gorgeous secretary for granted; that is, he no longer felt guilty about it. Only once or twice as he'd sat at home on the evenings that he had been at home, reading the paper or whatever, had he gazed across at his wife and remembered her as she used to be when they'd first married: alive, vital, sensuous. And then he would feel a twinge of remorse that he was being forced to satisfy his libido away from home. But these feelings he always quickly put away from himself with the rationalization that if Jean wanted to do something about that, she could with little trouble.

Tom quickly finished shaving, dressed, and made his way into the kitchen where Jean had fixed breakfast. He said good morning but didn't look at her beyond a quick glance - he didn't want to see her expression when she saw that he was again dressed for work, as he had been two Saturdays in a row. He'd tried to convince Ingrid that he would have to stay home today or Jean might begin to get suspicious. But Ingrid had very persuasively convinced him that he would rather spend the day with her at the beach than at home, and in a moment of weakness he had promised. Well, maybe Jean wouldn't mind.

"You're going to the office today?" Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact.

"Uh, yeah honey, I'm afraid I've got to. This Genco deal is just about to come off, and I've got to be the one that does it. I know it's Saturday and all, and I'm sorry, but..."

"Oh, that's all right, dear," his wife said hurriedly, interrupting him. "I suppose that's the price I have to pay for having a successful husband." And she leaned over and gave his forearm a quick pat. She noticed he looked at her in a puzzled way, as though he'd been expecting her to protest as she usually did. And she would have, too, she thought to herself, if she hadn't had something to do herself today, something extra special! Again she smiled at him as he began to busy himself with his ham and eggs, and then she began to calmly eat her own breakfast.

Calm, at least, on the outside. Inside, Mrs. Jean Lincoln was a bundle of nervous excitement. She couldn't wait for her husband to leave the house so that she could telephone Randy. She'd already planned with him that if Tom was going to work this Saturday, the two of them would go off and find a nice secluded spot by themselves to spend the day. It was getting too risky for Randy to be coming over to the house all the time, the neighbors might get suspicious; and besides, Tom might suddenly decide to come home before he usually did. She'd doubted that everything would work out for her, but it had, and she was hard-pressed to hide her almost delirious happiness.

"You're sure you don't mind my working today," she suddenly heard her husband asking her, and she guiltily raised her head and quickly shook it.

"No, dear, of course not. I've got a million and one things to do, errands you know. I'll be running all day. Don't worry, maybe we can have tomorrow together."

"Yeah, good. Let's make that a date, why don't we? We can go on a picnic or something."

"Wonderful, darling. Whatever you want."

For a moment Tom sat staring at her as she continued eating with bowed head, and then he chided himself inwardly: You great big dope! You worry because she might find you out, and then you worry because she obviously doesn't suspect a thing. Folding his napkin at his place, he got up and leaned across the table to plant a brief peck on his wife's cheek.

"I guess I might as well get going," he said.

"What time will you be home, dear?"

"Why?"

"Oh, no reason. I just wanted to try to be home when you got here . .. from my errands, you know."

"Yeah .... well, late this afternoon I guess. I've got so much work on this account.. . "

"Well, if I'm not here, don't worry. I'll still be running all over Los Angeles." Jean felt herself beginning to flush slightly, and quickly turned away toward the sink.

"O.K." He walked to the door and paused, then turned. "Bye honey," he said simply.

"Good-bye, dear," and she flashed him a smile which betrayed nothing of her infidelity.

Ten minutes after he'd left she couldn't wait any longer and rushed to the phone to call Randy. After a moment's hesitation on the other end of the line, she got him, and quickly arranged a meeting place near the housing project where he lived. She told him to come alone, she wanted to spend the afternoon with him alone, and she made her voice sound very sexy, which sent a shiver of excitement running up her spine.

Less than an hour later she and her young gardener were cruising down a busy throughfare of suburban L.A., Jean steering her car expertly through the traffic-jammed street, and pulling deeply on the cigarette Randy had just lit for her. They talked of trivialities, but Jean knew that both their minds were centered on what lay ahead of them that afternoon. Jean was feeling buoyant, and knew that she was looking good. The last couple of weeks had brought about a remarkable change in her, she knew, and not just in her outlook and behavior, but in her appearance as well. Being fully liberated sexually really suited her, and she had never felt better in her life. Things were at last going her way, and she sometimes wondered how she had been able to bear things before she had met Randy. She spent a lot of time trying to analyze just what it was about Randy and his friends that really turned her on, in a way that her husband never did. She could never figure it out to her satisfaction, but it was enough that they did. And they proved it too, and often! Randy made a habit of dropping by two or three afternoons a week after classes and bringing his friends with him, and he sometimes stopped by in the evening if Jean was sure that her husband would be working overtime. Tom seemed to be doing so much of it lately, and in a way, she wasn't sorry. It gave her that much more time for her young lovers. She just couldn't get enough of them, and it seemed to her that her sexual appetite just grew and grew. Her whole outlook was different now, too, and she was willing to try anything that would bring her sensual pleasure. This merry-go-round of sexual encounters with her young teenage friends left her little time to worry about her marriage, and she had to admit to herself that things had gone from bad to worse. She and Tom were like two strangers, living together in the same house but not really seeing each other. Tom had not touched her since that Saturday morning, which seemed so long ago now, and in truth, he seemed preoccupied and harrassed. Jean was inclined to attribute it to his promotion and the extra work it entailed, but she would have liked to have straightened out their problems. As things stood, though, she just didn't have the time.

"Well, where arq we going, Mrs. Lincoln?" Randy asked. Sometimes he called her Mrs. Lincoln and sometimes he called her Jean - it seemed to depend on whichever came out first. With deliberate familiarity, he reached over and lay his hand suggestively on her exposed thigh. Jean sighed from the electric contact of his hand.

"Ummm ... I thought we might head out to the ocean, Randy," she replied. "I know a wonderful little spot that's nice and private, only a few people know about it. It's on up the coast a little way."

"How did you find out about it?" Randy asked, hardly able to take his eyes off this luscious older woman who had fallen victim to his overpowering maleness.

"Tom .. . my husband and I sometimes go out there for picnics. That was the place we were going to go that Saturday before ..."

"Before we got together." Randy finished for her, grinning lewdly.

"Yes .. . yes, that Saturday," Jean smiled in obvious embarrassment.

The drive up the coast didn't seem to take much time as the two of them chatted about mundane things, mostly about Randy and his high school exploits on the foothill team, the dance floor, and with girls. This last subject made Jean somewhat uncomfortable, but she was happy that her young lover was so popular with his schoolmates. Soon, she had turned the car off the coast road, and had begun to make her way back through some trees toward the beach. She hadn't gone very far when Randy stopped her.

"Hey, hold on a minute. Isn't that your husband's car?"

Jean looked to where he was pointing and, sure enough, there was a Ford Mustang that looked exactly like Tom's. She couldn't remember Tom's license number, but it looked familiar.

"I ... I don't know, it... it certainly looks Hke it. But that's impossible, Tom's at the office today."

"Park over there behind those trees," Randy told her, "and let's go take a look. He can't be in both places at once."

Jean obeyed and guided the car to where he'd pointed, cutting the engine and then grabbing Randy's arm as he started to get out of the car.

"I don't think it's him, but if it is .. . we've got to be careful. He mustn't see us."

"All right, all right. Come on."

Like two commandos on patrol, they eased out of the car and made their way silently across the clearing to the Mustang. Jean came around to the driver's side, looked in, and shook her head in confusion.

"It's Tom's, all right. I recognize it by that little monkey he had on the mirror." She looked across the car to where Randy was staring inside. "I think we'd better leave, Randy, before he sees us." Her voice was fearful now, trembling.

"Wait a minute, what's that on the front seat?" Randy leaned in and grabbed something off the seat, holding it up to examine it. "It's a scarf... a woman's scarf. Is it yours?" he asked.

"No," she answered with a puzzled expression. "I wonder what..." And then she saw Randy's face brighten up with understanding, as he turned to her with a lewdly amused grin on his face. "Come on, Randy, we'd better go," Jean whispered urgently, wanting only to escape detection.

"Aren't you interested in finding out who this scarf belongs to, and why your husband isn't at his office like he said?" Randy asked, still smiling. He threw the scarf back on the front seat, and then something on the back seat caught his eye. He straightened up out of the car. "And why he had to wear a coat and tie this morning, when he was coming to the beach and would just leave it in the back seat?"

"No, Randy, I don't need to know ... I don't want to know ... I only want to get out of here."

"Well, I sure would like to know," the young teenager said with excitement, and he came quickly around the car to where Jean was standing and grabbed her by the hand. "Come on."

Reluctantly, Jean allowed herself to be led off. She didn't want to go, didn't want to have any proof of what she was not even letting herself begin to suspect. But still, something forced her to go with her husky young lover through the grove of trees and down the sandy road to the beach. Jean knew that this beach was always deserted, and so that made Tom's trip there doubly mysterious. As they came out on the beach Jean thought she might be mistaken, because there was not a soul in sight. "Let's go on down over there," Randy insisted, pointing down the beach to a group of derelict and abandoned beach houses, simple lean-to cabin affairs, which had been abandoned when this private beach had been made public. Resolutely, Jean made up her mind to get to the bottom of the mystery, and started off toward the shacks in front of Randy, gesturing to him to follow. Quietly, the two of them sneaked up on the run-down cabins; Jean's heart was thumping in apprehension as she peered in the dusty window of the first one. It was obvious that it hadn't been disturbed. A quick look into the remaining chalets in the group revealed them all to be empty, and Jean was just about to give up her search, when Randy pointed to another one that stood away from the others. Shrugging her shoulders, Jean decided to give it a try, and ambled over to the small wooden building.

Muffled sounds became audible as they approached, and Jean's mouth suddenly went dry. A quaking feeling shook through her body as she neared the beach house, half afraid of what she would see, but determined to follow her decision through. There was a large window in front, and she and her young lover tiptoed towards it. Jean was just about to peer into the dimly lit room, when a loud moan rang out, turning her face white, and widening her eyes in horror and disgust.

"Aaaaaagggghhhh ... uuuggghhh ..." The voice was obviously impassioned and aroused, and Jean, not able to wait a minute longer, looked directly into the beach house. For a moment, she could see nothing, and then she caught sight of the two figures sprawled on the floor. She caught a flash of blonde hair, a gleam of naked skin, and then, her eyes focusing and adjusting to the dim light, she could see without a doubt that the naked figures in the room were her own husband and a beautiful blonde girl, and they were positioned in a lewdly disgusting attitude of making love! The blonde was on all fours, her naked thighs obscenely spread to allow her own husband to enter from behind, dog-fashioned!!

Jean was dumbfounded, unable to move, her eyes drawn inescapably to the unbelievable sight of her husband making love to another woman. Randy, who had just caught sight of the lewd scene, gave a low whistle.

"Look at Tom fucking that crazy blonde..." he said needlessly, obviously enjoying the obscene sight. Jean just couldn't believe it. The past few weeks had brought a cataclysmic change in her, altering her entire existence to the point where she was enjoying the attentions of several young lovers, but she had never given a thought to her businessman-husband and what he was doing. If she had ever thought about it, she never would have guessed that he was having an affair with another woman. It was the last thing she would have thought of. He just wasn't the type. But then neither was I, a little voice chimed in the back of her brain. But she was quickly able to disregard that, her feelings being completely caught up in her shocking discovery. She couldn't deny that she felt betrayed inside. Nothing had prepared her for this shattering find.

She had always regarded her marriage as something definitely stable, insoluble. Now it seemed as tentative and fragile as any other agreement, and for the first time in her life, she felt that her stability was threatened. She continued to peer in the window, fighting the desire to run in there and confront Tom. But she knew she wouldn't do that, she couldn't... how could she dash in there and confront him with his infidelity, when she herself was accompanied by her own lover?

Tears swelled in her eyes, and the two nakedly entwined figures inside swam before her gaze, the lewd entanglement of their aroused bodies obscenely accentuated by her dimmed vision. But painfully for her, her eyes began to focus again, and she could see clearly the entire throbbing length of her unfaithful husband's fully erect penis as it eased between the silky smooth mounds of the blonde's curved buttocks, and disappeared up into the softly pulsing pink flesh of her blonde-fringed vagina.

"Oooooohhhhhh Tom, your cock feels so good inside me ... so big and hard ..."

Jean flinched at the girl's obscene words, but yet she couldn't keep her eyes off the obliviously fucking pair. She had never seen Tom's member so thick and distended, and there was a look of pure lust coupled with pleasure that she herself had never been able to give him. The blonde girl pushed her buttocks backward, flaring her softly yielding ass-cheeks and spreading her slender thighs wide to allow Tom's nakedly driving cock greater access to her hungry little belly. Her voluptuously firm breasts dangled down beneath her, the nipples rosy and turgid, and Jean could just catch a glimpse of golden pubic wisps curling above her shapely thighs. Tom's hands were curved around her slender hips, holding her in place, while his lust-hardened cock plowed wetly up into her moistly pulsing vaginal depths. The girl was mewling excitedly, bucking her pelvis back with a fury, receiving Jean's husband's rhythmic thrusts with welcoming hunger.

"Wow! She's really hot for it!" Randy breathed beside her, and his excited whisper made Jean angry. She hated to admit to herself that she was jealous of the unknown girl, but she was. She had always assumed that Tom would remain at her beck and call, enraptured by her, just as her young lovers were. But it was apparent that he had found a new interest!

Jean barely noticed when Randy began to run his hands down the smooth expanse of her own hips, caressing the soft moons of her buttocks and then trailing upward to cup the palpitating mounds of her breasts. All her thoughts were centered on what was happening inside the beach house and she was oblivious to her lover's caresses. It was obvious that the sight of her husband fucking another woman was exciting him and arousing him to the point of openly stroking and fondling her, but she didn't care. She was still in shock from her discovery and the lurid scene she was witnessing tilled her only with horror and revulsion.

"That's it, Ingrid honey," she heard her husband pant, "Keep fucking back ..." Ingrid! Ingrid Nielsson! His secretary! Suddenly, everything fell into place for Jean. The real rupture in their marriage, Jean now remembered, had come when Tom got that promotion complete with his own secretary. She accounted for all the so-called overtime, and not his new position. What a fool I've been! Her eyes involuntarily, returned to the spectacle of her husband's lust-hardened penis sawing lewdly in and out of the clasping vagina of the girl who Jean now knew to be his secretary. Their bodies slapped viciously together, the tempo of their salaciously passionate copulation.

"Oh Jean baby, come on, let's go ... " Randy murmured heatedly, his fingers tightening on her heaving breasts. But the shocked young wife couldn't move. The sight of her husband making love to his secretary held her spellbound, and she was oblivious to everything else.

"Christ, Ingrid, nobody fucks the way you do ... !" she heard her husband groan, and a cold shudder ran through her. He didn't care about her anymore - he only cared about that Swedish tramp! She had never been able to excite him the way Ingrid was doing now. He had never said anything like that to her, had never fucked her in that wildly abandoned way.

Gnawing despair churned around violently inside the tortured wife, making her tremble from a mixture of unknown feelings. Suddenly she knew that she didn't want to watch anymore.

She didn't want to stay and watch her husband making passionate love to his secretary ... it was unbearable because it was obvious that the blonde girl excited her husband more than she, his own wife, did!

"Come on, Jean baby, I've got a fuck you now," Randy insisted, his grip tightening on her arm. But Jean hardly heard what he was saying. Her brain was numbed and frozen from watching the lewd scene transpiring inside the beach house, and robot-like she responded to Randy's insistent pressure to leave, and allowed herself to be led away meekly by her lustfully aroused young lover.

Randy pulled Jean down beside him on the small patch of sandy ground, sheltered from the sun by the shade of the beach house. The horror-stricken young wife made no protest. Her brain was reeling with the enormity of what she had just seen and her body was like an automaton without direction. A small part of her brain kept drumming at her consciousness:

Your husband is unfaithful to you, fust as you are to him! But her own brain, already accustomed to the fact that she herself was enjoying affairs with several young teenagers, was unable to believe that her husband was similarly involved. She was barely aware of Randy tugging at her blouse, sliding it off her smoothly sloping shoulders, of his fingers fumbling eagerly with the clasp of her half-cup brassiere. Her semi-turgid nipples shivered and contracted under the cool rush of air that assaulted them as the fumbling teenager removed the flimsy garment, and Jean demurely allowed him to unzip her skirt and roll it down over her lushly curved hips, and then slip off her white nylon panties. She was hardly aware that she was lying as last stark naked on the shaded sand, and she didn't care.

Randy stared in growing excitement at the full golden length of this older woman's naked body, half-stretched out in the shadow of the beach house, and a shiver of passionate arousal rippled along his spine. The sight of Mrs. Lincoln's husband really fucking hard into that platinum blonde gave him a luridly forbidden thrill of pleasure and had started the erection which was never far away when he was with this over-sexed housewife. He knew that she was a bit shocked at discovering her husband with another woman - and what a sexy broad, too - but what the hell did she expect anyway, the way she was going on? Randy never ceased to be amazed at her apparent insatiability. She just never seemed to get enough of his cock, and was always clamoring for him to bring around more of his friends. He was getting a bit tired of that angle, he had to admit to himself. It was fun at first, boasting to his buddies and hearing their incredulous exclamations when his brother Larry confirmed what he was saying, and then listening to their profound thanks when he finally relented and allowed specially chosen ones to accompany him to Mrs. Lincoln's house. But now things had reached a stage where he would have definitely preferred it if Jean was happy with him alone; unfortunately, she wasn't. Ever since that day when she had sucked Larry off while he himself was licking her cunt, she was wildly excited by three-way sex, and could never get enough of it. But now, he wasn't worried about all that. He had her to himself for the afternoon. It was her idea to go out - he would just as soon have got right to it in the bedroom of her home - but his lovely sandy-haired mistress liked to prolong the moment when they would finally undress; it added spice to it, she always said, although he couldn't see how. And now, things seemed to be put out of whack by their discovery of her husband with that other chick. He wished now that he had kept his mouth shut when he had spotted her husband's car. Well, maybe things would work out anyway, he thought, as he quickly undressed. Certainly if they hadn't discovered Tom making love to the blonde, Jean would never have allowed him to undress her like this, and would never be stretching out naked on the hot sand. She was a bit prudish about where they made love, usually preferring to do it in bed. He himself didn't give a damn about the location - in fact, he liked a little variety.

Eagerly, he reached up and squeezed the erotically swollen mounds of her half-tanned breasts, running his fingers over the hard little nipples, and then he planted his mouth down hotly on her warmly quivering skin, trailing moist little kisses all the way down the length of her swan-like neck, finally stopping to enclose first one and then the other of the hard little buttons, teasing them between his teeth, making the older woman cry out in ecstasy despite her shock. He could feel the growing hardness of his large penis, exulting in the freedom of being naked under the open sky. With hungry haste, he ran his hands down her smoothly golden flanks, cupping the enticing flare of her hips with his palms, feeling the silky flesh of her inner thighs tremble under his youthfully urgent caresses. The exciting zone of her tender vagina was a gleamingly shining flaxen wheat in the reflection from the sand. Her velvety thighs were slightly parted and the lustful youth caught a glimpse of moistly glimmering pinkness between the golden strands of tightly curling pussy hair. She looked like an untouchable goddess, golden and unattainable, as beautiful as the other blonde her husband was busy fucking, and Randy could hardly believe his luck that she was actually his mistress. That he was the lover of this beautifully svelte woman!

With a moan of animal pleasure, he buried his face between the warmly heaving peaks of her upraised breasts, inhaling the feminine sweetness of her special scent, and then raising his head upwards, ground his mouth down on hers in an eager passionate kiss, forcing her teeth to part and teasing her tongue into a frantic duel of mounting desire. He could feel her body trembling under his and knew that she was becoming aroused, in spite of her mental preoccupation. It was always the same ... no matter how she was feeling emotionally, her body always responded. That was one of the wonderful things about fucking her . ..

Jean's lips parted in a low mewl as she felt Randy's knee prying her naked thighs apart, as she felt the warmth of the summer air on the sensitively squirming flesh of her open vagina. It really does feel good, he thought hazily, to be stretched out under the open sky, under the hot sun. The hot sand warmed her back and buttocks and its resilience gave her the impression that she was floating on air. Her mind had reached a sort of impasse about her unfaithful husband. The numbness was gone, and now she had mixed feelings. On one hand, she was glad that he was involved with someone else - it gave her more time, and a better, excuse, for being involved with her own teenage lovers; but on the other hand she had to admit that she felt angry, a slow seething fury, that he was actually cheating on her. She knew that it was unreasonable in view of what she herself was doing, but she couldn't help what she felt.

She groaned again as she felt the heavy blood-filled weight of Randy's lust-hardened cock against her secret inner flesh, and instinctively spread her splayed legs even farther apart, willingly presenting the widespread plane of her welcoming cunt to his hovering male shaft. She squirmed back slightly as she felt the rubbery unyielding head nudge against her delicate pussy flesh, and drew in her breath sharply, waiting -for the delicious impact as he thrust forward. Then the realization of what was happening struck her with the force of-a fist. She was naked and lying spread-eagled under the poised hardness of her teenage lover, only feet away from where her husband was making love to his secretary!

A dozen terrifying possibilities presented themselves to her, but were ruthlessly swept aside as Randy surged forward relentlessly, his hands clamped against her hips, holding her in place, driving on until he had succeeded in penetrating her tight little cuntal orifice with his thickly throbbing cock.

"Aaaagghh . .. Ooohhh ..." Jean moaned as he plowed forward, imbedding his desire-inflated cock by degrees in her tightly resisting vaginal sheath.

"Unhhggnnn ..." she gasped as he continued to drive forcefully in between her widely spread legs.

"... aagghhhhh ... hhmmnnll" as he finally imbedded it to the hilt in her rapidly adjusting cuntal passage. For a moment he held it there, flexing it slightly, waiting for her answering interior throb before withdrawing slowly, giving her wetly heated channel a chance to adjust before plunging forward again, forcing her smoothly rounded buttocks up off the ground as he plowed into her, her tapering legs kicking out wildly on each side of his thrusting body.

"Ooooohhh, Randy .. . it's good, it's good, darling ..." she gasped as he continued to drive nakedly between her legs, each deep downward thrust tunneling to the very core of her eliciting moans of wanton pleasure from somewhere in the depths of her throat.

Her firm full breasts were heaving erotically, a slight rivulet of perspiration trickling down the deep valley between them as she gave herself over completely to his hard masculine fucking. Her arms reached up suddenly and pulled him down on her, pressing her turgid nipples against his panting chest, reaching up to trap his lips in a fiery kiss of passion. Her darting tongue flicked greedily into his mouth to make delirious contact with his, and jabbed in and out in a crude rhythmic simulation of his own wildly pistoning cock sawing into her welcoming vagina. She was completely aroused now, all reserve thrown to the winds as she fucked back mindlessly, transported to the zenith of sensual pleasure. Damn Tom, damn him and his blonde slut... I don't care what happens as long as I can have this ... as long as Randy keeps fucking me half to death . .. !!

Tom Lincoln's fingers tightened in the soft-fleshed globes of Ingrid Niellson's cream-white buttocks, kneading the tender mounds convulsively as he continued to drive his lust-bloated hardness between his secretary's slightly parted thighs, burying it completely in the velvety softness of her wet pink cunt. Her swollen vagina fitted like a silk glove around the palpitating shaft of his desire-hardened penis, increasing a thousand fold the eddies of tremulous pleasure which were rippling along his spinal column and erupting in a series of breathless spasms throughout his body. Through lust-dimmed eyes, he could see his mistress crouched in her servile position in the dim beach house, on all fours, and the fact that he was fucking into her from behind, dog-fashioned, added to his adulterous pleasure. Ingrid's body was writhing, and she was thrusting her shapely little buttocks back rhythmically, flaring her softly ovalled ass-cheeks to allow him fuller access to her wildly dilated vaginal sheath. She was mewling incessantly, her long blonde hair falling down like a golden waterfall over her desire-contorted face. Her full ripe breasts dangled obscenely beneath her, as her body undulated to the rhythm of her boss' fucking from behind, and the soft wet inner flesh of her churning cunt clenched and unclenched around the thickly probing length of his hard driving penis. The thinly haired flanges nibbled excitedly at the plunging masculine shaft, titillating it excruciatingly, pulling it deeper and greedily up into the darkness of her helplessly aroused vagina. Tom's heavy sperm-laden balls slapped wetly against her upturned loins as he pounded into her, and his body shook with violent tremors as he approached the apex of his gathering orgasm. His body was coated with sweat, dimming his vision and his brain was an inflamed and seething mass of lewd excitement. A wildly primitive feeling engulfed him, bred by the knowledge that he was fucking his secretary from behind, miles away from anywhere, in the middle of the day, in a deserted beach house. It was fucking for the sheer love of it, for the pure unadulterated pleasure they both got from it. He could feel his naked mistress quivering and shaking, the tremors more pronounced, increasing with the cadence of her rising moans, and then, suddenly, she was there! She was climaxing, her whole body vibrating with overwhelming passion, her cries a wild cacaphony of the derelict building!!

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" she chanted helplessly as wave after tidal wave of dazzling pleasure flooded over her, seeping into every curve and crevice of her writhing body, imbuing her with the warmth of total passionate arousal.

The insane jiggling of her tight little buttocks triggered off Tom's own teetering climax, and his hoarse cries mingled with her high-pitched ones as his body jerked and thrashed out the tremendous whirlpool force of his orgasm.

"Aaaagghh ... Oh Christ, Ingrid, I'm cumming too!" His head was spinning from the convulsions of ecstasy spasming through his body, and for a moment he was afraid that he would lose "his balance and fall from the unnatural weaving of the dusty room before his inflamed eyes. But he continued to fuck into Ingrid's gyrating body, shouting out again as the first eruption in the seething cavern of his swollen balls sent the first stream of foaming semen spurting into her wildly swirling cunt. It flowed unceasingly into her darkly clutching passage, filling her helplessly excited belly to the full, seeping unchecked into the hungrily welcoming depths of her secret womb. His fingers were clutching savagely at the tender white flesh of her softly rounded ass-cheeks, raising angry welts on its ivory surface, but Ingrid seemed oblivious to the pain as she continued to jerk her pelvis, insatiable in her desire to engulf more and more of his lewdly ejaculating cock in her spasming pussy.

At last, he had emptied his final spurt into her heatedly steaming depths, and even so, she was unwilling to let the rapidly deflating member slip from her semen-soaked channel. But finally, it slid wetly from her faintly pulsing passage and Tom lay back on the dusty floor, his breath coming in deep hard pants, his eyes closed in pleasure, basking in the warm and heady afterglow of a tremendous climax. Ingrid sure was one hell of a good fuck, he thought as he dozed off easily, completely satiated by his sensual young mistress. I

The next thing he was aware of was Ingrid noisily removing the dust and cobwebs from the back window of the cabin. He could just barely see the faint contours of her naked back, and once again he realized how really sexy she was, how completely provocative her every movement was. He had certainly never known anyone like her, and he would find it hard to give her up, if it ever came to that. He was not sure that he could. She had given him a new lease on life, which might evaporate if she went out of his radius. With her carefree, zany ways, she had instilled a sense of fun and enjoyment of life in him, but he knew he could easily revert back to his old, cut and dried ways. She had taught him that sex could be definitely fun, exciting and never boring, and his lovemaking with her was certainly a far cry from the routine act with his own wife.

"Hey, look honey," Ingrid suddenly called out, "it looks as if we're not the only ones with this idea!" She was peering intently out the window, her body quivering with obvious excitement.

"What do you mean, baby?" Tom queried, only half-interested.

"There's this good-looking blonde being fucked like crazy by a kid!"

"You're kidding!" Tom laughed, only half-believing her.

"No, honestly!" Ingrid replied excitedly. "Come over here and see!! She's stretched out on the sand and the kid, who must be only about sixteen, is really giving it to her!"

Tom, his interest aroused, ambled over to join his mistress at the half-cleaned window. He peered out, seeing first only the naked jumble of golden arms and legs as a blonde boy fucked a blonde woman.

Then his vision cleared and he got a better look, and saw, with bulgingly disbelieving eyes, that the blonde, stretched out naked and flat on her back, her long tanned legs lewdly spread to allow the sixteen year old boy to fuck obscenely between them, was Jean! It was his wife out there, being made love to by a teenage boy!