Max Power, Cocksman
(M+/F+, size, oral, anal)

by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.com

"Damn." Monica thought, fishing in the pocket of her uniform. "Where did that pencil go? That's the third one I've lost tonight!" A lock of her strawberry blonde hair fell forward into her eyes and her hand went up to her forehead to push it back impatiently. She fished in the bowl of pencils at the serving counter and pulled out a freshly sharpened one, trying to recall which type of dressing Mr. Power had just said he wanted on his salad.

Oh, yes, she remembered, just plain oil and vinegar, that was what he always wanted.

With a sigh she marked it down on her pad and headed toward the kitchen with the order. Her feet hurt and she thought she was just about to pass out from fatigue. It had been a rough Saturday night, and it seemed as if she had waited on thousands of finicky customers at Starkers Steak House. Well, she thought, at least her tips had been good: almost fifteen dollars that night. And that would be a big help toward the rent! After Mr. Power had finished, she would be able to go home to Brad at last.

As she waited at the counted for the very rare steak that Power had ordered, her thoughts wandered, she could see Power's neat, elegantly clothed figure from where she stood. He was calmly sipping his martini, and occasionally he would cast a glance in her direction. But Monica knew it was not a look of impatience he was giving her, he never seemed to mind if he had to wait. She knew that he found her attractive, he had told her so several times, but always in such a manner that she couldn't really get insulted or feel as though he was taking advantage of her. Even though she had told him that she was married, and newly married at that, he had still continued to let his admiration for her be known. She could count on seeing him at the same table almost every evening around 9p, and she had come to look forward to seeing him. He was so little trouble, and never failed to tip her five dollars, and some nights even ten. And it all came in very handy since Brad still hadn't found a job.

Worry crossed Monica's pert features as she wondered how long it would be before Brad found something that suited him. She knew that he could do just about anything he set his mind to, if only he would set his mind! She had tried only the night before to persuade him that taking the job that had been offered him as a car salesman would not be the kind of thing he would have to do forever. His writing was bound to pay off one day if he kept it up! But he had insisted that he couldn't go out and be a car salesman by day, with all that that entailed, and come home and write at night. Monica guessed that he was right She supposed it would be hard to do that, but then, she thought, this is hard for me to do too!

She was trying to be open about it, "modern," there was no reason why a wife shouldn't help out by working in times of need But sometimes, like now when she was tired, the whole thing started to get to her. Especially when her mother called and brought up the subject.

"Has Brad found work yet. Oh, still unemployed. Well, goodness, you've been married almost six months now. How long does he expect you continue undermining your health with that job? You know you were always fragile as a child."

Her mothers voice echoed in her ears, and tonight, while she stood there, shifting her weight from foot to foot to ease the pain, she did indeed feel delicate She was small boned, with slender ankles and legs, but there was nothing fragile about the rest of her for her hips were full blown and luscious beneath her uniform, and when she turned to walk away from her tables, more than one male and some female customers could not help but follow her swaying asscheeks, so clearly outlined beneath the thin material. She had a walk that could only be compared to Marilyn Monroe's famous walk in "Niagara" and some of her high school boyfriends had even gone so far as to insist that she resembled a cross between Monroe and Brigitte, being built like Monroe and having facial features, childlike and pouty like Brigitte. Monica had never taken any of it too seriously. She knew she was good looking, but she rarely dwelt on that beauty unless it was insistently brought to her attention.

It had occurred to her while she was standing there, that it had been some time since Brad had told her how pretty she was, he used to tell her all the time, she realized. They didn't seem to make love as much as before either, of course, since she had this late shift, by the time she got home, Brad was usually fast asleep, and during the day, well, he just didn't seem much the daytime type, somehow.

Power smiled and nodded to her across the room. Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't see him, though she was looking directly at him. Then suddenly she realized that he was calling her, and with a start, she came to attention and nodded back at him, letting him know that she would be right there. Then she turned to the counter just in time to see the chef placing the sizzling steak platter in front of her.

"You've got a lot on your mind tonight, Monica!" Power said as he picked up the glass of wine that Monica had just poured him from the small bottle of Beaujolais and he silently toasted her with a small gesture of his hand, before placing the glass to his lips.

"Yes, I suppose so, Mr. Power," Monica said, wondering just how he made his money, she knew he had a lot of it, that much was clear.

"Too bad," he said, testing his steak with the sharp point of his knife "A pretty girl like you."

"Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Power," Monica said smiling as she turned away.

"I wish Brad would notice that as much as you do," she thought.

About 45-minutes later, Monica was hurriedly changing out of her uniform in the ladies' room. Power had finished his dessert and coffee and bid her goodnight and she was free to go home. She put on the lightweight beige suit that fit her voluptuous form tightly, remembering that it was in that very suit that she and Brad had been married. God, she needed some new clothes! She knew it would be quite a while before she would be able to buy clothes, unless Brad had found a job today. But she knew that he probably would have called her long ago if he had found work. More than likely he was home asleep and snoring right now, having had still another bad case of writer's block. She surveyed herself in the mirror, her long hair curled softly around her face and fell to her shoulders, and she looked more like a budding starlet than a waitress. She was too tired to apply any lipstick to her soft full lips. After all, she thought, Brad never even looked at her when she got home. What did it matter? By the time she left Starkers, stepping out into the cool San Francisco night, she was deeply depressed. She paused a moment in front of the door and took a deep breath of fresh air, then she turned to walk to the bus stop a block away.

When Monica had gotten about halfway up the street, she noticed that there was a big black car moving slowly down the street behind her. She was afraid at first, but then she told herself, that that was silly, such things only happened in the movies, the car couldn't have anything to do with her! Nevertheless, she quickened her pace as she walked, casting occasional nervous glances over her shoulder.

Cruising in the big black Mercedes, Max Power finally made up his mind. He had gone this far, he might as well go a little further. He wanted this girl, and he intended to have her. She would make a nice addition to his household. A very nice one!

He accelerated and drove past Monica, stopping at the corner where he knew from having watched before that she would go to wait for the bus. He leaned over and opened the door, as he pulled up and waited for Monica to arrive.

"Hi," he called out. "Come on, I'll take you home," he called.

Monica peered into the dimly lit interior of the car and she made out the features of Max Power. For a moment she was furious, how dare he follow her like that. How dare he even wait for her after work! But then, she felt another jab of pain from the soles of her aching feet, and she realized that it was silly not to accept a lift from him, since the buses ran infrequently at that time of night.

"Hello, Mr. Power...," she said. "You really frightened me for a minute there!"

"Hop in Monica. No cause for fear, it's only me!"

Monica slid into the seat beside him, a small voice of warning sounding in her brain, but the comfort of the smooth leather seat and the warmth of the inside of the car quickly quieted the voice, and she turned gratefully to the man to thank him. But when she turned she saw that his eyes were on her, staring at her in a very strange hungry way, a way that she had seen on occasion before, from passing strangers who observed the swing of her hips, the heavy sway of her enormous, natural G-cup breasts as she walked down the street. She blushed violently when she saw that Max Power was looking at her that way so close to her. But now the door was closed and he had already started up the powerful motor of the Mercedes, and there was really nothing to do but sit there.

"Where do you live, Monica?"

Why did he keep on using her name like that? It made her nervous... like he was some old high school teacher of hers or something.

"Over on Mount Germaine," she answered. "You make a right at the next corner and just keep on going until you get to."

"That's all right," he interrupted, "I know the area well. You just direct me once we get there, okay?"

"All right," Monica answered, mentally reassuring herself. After all, she had seen this man often. He wasn't just a stranger, and he had given her all of those good tips. He was almost a friend really. She slipped off her high heels and let her feet rest on the carpeted floor of the car, and leaning her head back, she let out a soft sigh.

"Tired?" Power asked, casting a glance at her relaxed body. He could see the curve of her calves, the long line of her thighs, clad in the sheer nude-colored stockings, up to the point where they disappeared beneath her short skirt, leaving only the bulge of their outline to tantalize his eye.

Boy, he'd sure like to get his hands up in there close to her tight little pussy, he thought. And he intended to do just that before the night was out. It had been a long time since he had seen a girl who so exactly fit his concept of the ideal woman. A child's face with a woman's body. He could feel the excitement mounting inside him at the thought of what her naked flesh would feel like beneath his hands, what she would be like grinding beneath his body!

"I hate seeing a pretty thing like you knocking herself out waiting on tables!" Power spoke, almost as though he were talking to himself.

"It's only temporary, Mr. Power."

"Max," he answered." You make me feel like an old man. I'm only 35. How old are you?"

"Why, I'm 22. That is, my birthday is next month." She was beginning to get confused by his questions. He seemed to be saying so many things at one time.

"Only temporary, eh? When are you planning to stop?"

"Well, my husband is a writer, and he should have completed his book by then, and then we'll be able to." The familiar speech somehow wasn't coming out right.

"A writer, eh? That's funny, I used to fiddle around with the typewriter myself. That is until I came to my senses."

He looked over at her. "Oh. I don't mean to imply that your husband, what's his name?"

"Brad."

"Brad isn't a brilliant writer. It's just that I wasn't! Business is more my field, Land development to be exact."

"How interesting," Monica replied. But she was really thinking about Brad at home. She hoped that he wouldn't be asleep again, not this time. She really wanted to talk to him tonight.

She gazed solemnly out the window. She didn't recognize where they were. They seemed to be in an unfamiliar part of town.

"Are you sure you know the way?" she asked, uncertainly.

"Oh, yes," Max answered, swerving up a particularly steep hill." It won't be long now."

Monica didn't want to offend him by saying anything else, but she was sure that they were lost, and that he didn't want to admit that he didn't know the way. Well, she'd just wait until it became perfectly obvious and then, she'd tell him. Even with this detour, she would possibly still be standing back there waiting for the bus, she thought.

Power cast another glance at Monica's modestly covered bosom. He imagined that he could almost see the outline of her nipples through the fabric of her suit top.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm!" he said.

"Did you say something?" Monica asked.

"I'll tell you about it some other time," he answered, making another sharp turn and gunning the car so that Monica was jolted back against the seat. Then he swiftly turned into a large iron gateway and they were deep in a park, surrounded by high trees and foliage. He sped through the woods at top speed, and then came to a screeching halt high atop a hill, where down below, the twinkling lights of San Francisco glimmered brilliantly.

"Well, let's take a little break. You don't mind do you. I can't resist coming here every so often. The view is breathtaking."

"MIND?" Monica nearly screamed. "Why of course I mind. My husband is home waiting for me. If you think that I'm..."

But she didn't have a chance to finish for Max Power grabbed her around the waist, pulling her sharply to him and clamped his mouth down on hers, holding her with a vise-like grip, so that all of her wriggling and squirming were to no avail. Vague thoughts of other times, when she was in high school and she had been caught alone on a desolate road with some young boy who had thought she would go all the way, came into her mind... but this wasn't a harmless boy, she reminded herself. This was a grown man, and a strong one. Fear mingled with shock rose in her throat as she felt Max's lips pressed hard against hers, so hard that she thought her teeth would pierce the skin of her lips. He was holding her so that her full ripe breasts were smashed into his heaving chest.

"Oh, my God," she thought. "My God! He's going to rape me!"

But just as that thought came into her mind, Max released his hold on her slightly and removed his lips from hers long enough to speak wetly into her car.

"Don't worry," he panted, "I'm not going to hurt you. Anything I do to you, I want to feel good."

"Let me loose." Monica cried, between clenched teeth. "Please Mr. Power, let me go! She renewed her struggle almost managing to slip away from his restraining hands. But she only managed to turn her torso so that his hands were in direct contact with her full, supple breasts.

She jumped, trying to jerk away from his touch, but Max took full advantage of the situation, squeezing the soft protrusions with his strong hands, massaging them slowly but firmly. At the same time, he pushed her steadily backward, so that after much struggling, she was finally down on her back, pressed flat against the wide seat of the Mercedes.

She could hardly believe what was happening to her. Max Power's mouth crushed down on hers harder than ever, and she could feel his hands manipulating her breasts as though he were molding clay. He trapped her hands beneath her own body as he pushed her back, and she thought that her arms might break from the pressure he was exerting on her. She groaned loudly beneath the weight of his upper body, trying desperately to swing her legs around, but she twisted in such a way that it was painful for her to move one way or the other.

She felt his wet, pursuing tongue attempting to insert itself between her tightly pursed lips, and when she opened her mouth to cry out in protest, he slipped it hotly into her mouth.

His hands kept stroking at her breasts and then began to rove the full length of her body, over her flat belly and down to her thighs, which were exposed by her hiked up skirt. Her stockings covered most of the smooth white flesh where her garter belt caught the filmy material and held it up. Max went straight for the warmth of her creamy thighs, savoring the silky skin beneath his fingers as though it were some precious material he was contemplating buying.

"Oh, no," she thought. "NO!" A million thoughts went racing through her brain, thoughts of Brad at home, what would he think! Of her mother, of her virginity, which she had so carefully saved for Brad... of the promise she had made to herself to never have any kind of sexual relations with anyone but her husband, and here she was being forced to submit to this man's lewd, forced touches.

"No." she gasped, sensing that a crucial moment had come and that she was now really helpless.

Managing to pull her head back slightly from his probing tongue as she spoke out her desperation, her breath coming haltingly. "You can't be serious. Please let me go!" she urged.

To her surprise, he answered, "All right," and abruptly let her loose. He sat up behind the steering wheel and slowly adjusted his tie.

"Sorry," he said, turning the key in the ignition. "That won't happen again."

"Again!" Monica thought, pulling down her skirt and adjusting her suit. "If I can just get home," she thought, "I never want to see this madman again." She sat squirming way over in her corner of the car, keeping as much distance as possible between them. Her heart beat wildly in her throat and blood pounded against her temples. The motor raced and Monica could see that Max had placed the car in reverse gear. Monica realized that she was covered with nervous perspiration. She was stunned, and hardly knew what to do; whether she should jump out of the car and try to get home on her own or trust him to take her home now. The car started pulling backwards before she could make up her mind.

"What I actually brought you here for, Monica," Max began looking in the rear view mirror, "Was not to attack you. But you are such a terribly attractive young lady. I must admit I've been thinking about you for quite some time. However." The car suddenly stopped and he turned and calmly looked at her. "What I really would like to do is offer you a job. One that will be not nearly as demanding as the one you have now. One where your beauty and charm will be appreciated. Not to mention the pay, which will be in the area of $250 a week to start."

Monica remained silent, at first paying no attention to what he was saying, but as he continued, she began to wonder how serious he was about what he was saying, not that she was interested, but still.

"You would be my housekeeper, in essence, although not in the old sense of the word. I need someone to be a hostess for my parties, to coordinate the comings and goings of the servants, to make sure that all goes smoothly at my estate. You see, I travel a lot, and."

"Mr. Power," Monica interrupted quickly. "Aside from the fact that I don't want to see you again; your job offer might be of interest to a single girl, but I am married, a fact that you seem to have completely overlooked!"

"Oh, no I haven't overlooked that, Monica," he started the car up again, swinging around and heading back out of the park the way they had come.

"You see, I really need a kind of overseer for the grounds, too... actually the job would be perfect for a young couple. I know you can't give me an answer now, and I don't want you to, after what just happened, but I want you to think about it later. It might be just the thing for you and your husband, until that book of his gets published. Oh, yes, and, of course, there are no strings attached. Besides, your husband will be there."

Monica remained silent until she caught sight of the familiar surroundings of Luxor Hill.

"Left at the next corner," she said. She just wanted to get inside her apartment and close the door, but still, in spite of herself, Max Power's words were swimming around in her mind.

"Again my apologies," Power called out of the door and Monica hurriedly stepped out in front of the wooden, two-story building. "And promise me you'll think about what I said!"

Monica kept walking without turning around to look as Power pulled away. Then as she got to the top of the steps she turned and watched as the big car turned the corner. She realized that her knees were weak and she felt an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her hand was shaking as she placed the key in the lock. She had never in her life had such a terrible experience.


She entered the apartment as quietly as she could. She and Brad had the downstairs apartment in the building, and she could see that Brad was most certainly asleep in the bedroom. All the lights were out with the exception of the night-light that he kept lit for her in the living room. She breathed a sigh of relief that he was indeed asleep, not knowing just how to cope with what had just happened. She couldn't really tell him about it because she felt oddly responsible for what had happened, as though she had led Power on, when she knew that that wasn't true. As she tiptoed into the bathroom, she felt the strange tremor in the bottom of her stomach again. The memory of Power's hand touching her sent a chill through her as she closed the bathroom door, and she knew that what was really bothering her was the fact that she had had a moment of pleasure, a split second granted, but pleasure right on.

She washed hurriedly and put on her nightgown in the bathroom, before going into the bedroom. In the darkness, she could make out Brad's prone figure tangled in the blankets of the bed. His heavy breathing filled the room, and she knew that he wouldn't awaken easily. A stab of anger swept through her, there he was sound asleep, having done nothing all day probably, while she had worked all those hours at Starkers and then had that horrible experience! For a moment it seemed like the whole thing was his fault. his fault for not working at some kind of regular job... any job so that she wouldn't have to be placed in such a position.

She turned on a small lamp and stood at the dresser, undoing her cold cream jar, Brad's reflection mirrored in the glass before her. As she slowly creamed her face, tears welled up in her eyes; it just wasn't fair, none of it was fair! She was tired of being so good, so understanding about everything! There spread out on the dresser were the turn off notices for the electricity, the overdue rent bill, and the water bill which would have to be paid by the end of the week.

"Oh, God," she thought. "Why can't he take care of it, why do I have to even think about it?"

The angry tears streamed down her face as she brushed her long glistening hairdo, and then fastened it behind her head with a hair piece. She went to the bed and pulled some of the covers away from Jim so that she could have some for her side. He grumbled sleepily and turned over, taking most of the blankets back with him.

"Damn you," she said in a loud fierce whisper. "Damn you, anyway!"


Monica stirred lazily in bed. It felt so nice and warm beneath the covers that she had completely forgotten the events of the previous evening. It wasn't until she opened her eyes that the memory of it all came back to her in vivid detail.

"Oooooooh," she moaned and turned over? pulling the sheet up so that her head was almost covered. Then, she sat up abruptly and looked at the other side of the bed. Brad was up. What time was it anyway? Sun streamed in through the window, and she could tell that she had slept much later than usual.

The smell of bacon cooking and its unmistakable crackle wafted through the air to her nostrils. She pulled up the strap of her nightgown that had fallen away to reveal the full, bouncy shape of her left breast, and tossed her hair back from her eyes; it was always coming undone. She was about to get out of bed when Brad appeared in the doorway, holding in his hand a steaming cup of coffee.

"Good morning, beautiful!" he said, an irresistible, boyish smile flashing.

All of Monica's anger and confusion disappeared like magic as she watched him coming toward her, placing her coffee on the night table. As he leaned close to kiss her, Monica once more studied his handsome, even features, his longish sandy hair that would not stay combed no matter what, and she felt the old familiar stirring inside, signaling her love for her young husband.

"You were so late last night. I tried waiting up for you, but finally I had to go to bed." His lips brushed her cheek and Monica wished they would linger there a little longer.

"I got a lot done yesterday; almost finished the revision of chapter five!"

"Darling," Monica said over her coffee cup. "Last night someone offered me a job, or rather someone offered us a job!" The words came tumbling out of her mouth before she knew it. She was surprised, she hadn't even been thinking about that. At least she didn't think she had. But as she spoke the idea seemed to get better and better, the memory of the bills on the dresser, and the fact that Brad obviously didn't want to get an ordinary job just then, and why should he get an ordinary job, she thought, completely reversing her bitter feelings of the previous evening, he's an artist!

The whole story took only a few seconds to tell, but she felt as though she had been speaking for ages when finally she fell silent, waiting for some reaction from Brad. She did not have to wait long.

"NO!" he said rising and standing defensively over her, his entire body tensed. "No!"

Even though she had carefully omitted any mention of what had happened in the park, Brad had clearly gleaned the fact that Max Power had a more than casual interest in his wife.

"Do you think I'm stupid enough to fall for something like that? That creep has hot pants for you, so he offers you a job, and I can tag along if I want. Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Oh, honey, come on, it's not like that. Oh, sure, I think he likes me, but I told him about you, and he knows he couldn't pull anything if we're both there. Think of all the time you'd have to write and I wouldn't have to work so hard. I'd be doing something really interesting: meeting people."

Will you shut up? Damn it! I don't want to hear about it!" Brad turned and stormed out the door. From the kitchen came the acrid odor of burning bacon, and then the sound of pots being slammed around. She heard him go into the living room and slam the door behind him.

Monica sat there for a moment, and then she got up. What a way to start the day, she thought. Each day had been getting progressively worse recently and this one was no exception!

She felt like crying again, but she realized that crying would do no good. She would have to go in and talk to Brad and try to get him calmed down. She slipped on a negligee, one of her many wedding presents that showed more of her than it hid, and, wrapping it around her voluptuous body, padded barefoot into the hallway to the door that led to the living room. She opened the door quickly. Brad was sitting at his desk in front of his typewriter pretending to be studying some papers, but she could tell that he was just sitting there furious.

She walked up to him and stood behind him, placing her long, slender lingers on his neck, massaging gently below his ears.

"Darling," she said. "I'm so sorry. Please don't be upset with me. I."

Brad turned around and buried his face in the sheer folds that covered her taut white belly. The scent of her perfume clung to her gown and mingled with her own personal scent creating a potent combination that made Brad's blood run faster in his veins. His fury converted to lust as he hugged his wife's shapely hips and sighed heavily.

"Baby, I'd sure like a little taste of you right now," he said.

Monica felt her knees grow weak. It had been so long since he had talked to her like that. A violent thrill ran through her as Brad reached down to caress her long legs, sliding his fingers up to the back of her knees, pushing up under her gown.

"Oh, Brad," she sobbed. "Honey."

His fingers kept moving, and soon Monica slid down to the floor so that she was kneeling beside him. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands and kissed him as he got down on the floor beside her.

"You sweet little bitch," he said, suddenly rummaging one hand up between her legs.

"Ooooooh!" she squealed as the force of his hand pushed her down pinning her to the floor.

Brad knelt over her looking down at her squirming body while his hand continued to explore beneath her robe.

"MMmmmmmm, wet already," he said, feeling his penis stiffen. His other hand searched out her already hard nipples, toying beneath the gown with their round little points, feeling the large orbs of her breasts jiggling beneath his hand. Suddenly he pinched the red soft nipple between his finger and thumb.

"Oooooh! Honey, don't be rough this time, please." She hated it when he was rough with her.

He had been roughest on their wedding night, after so many months of waiting, of petting that went nowhere, since Monica insisted upon saving herself for him until their wedding night. As a matter of fact, it had taken her several days after that night before Brad could persuade her to make love with him again. But once he managed to seduce her again, he was gentle and loving with her and she had since come to look forward to their lovemaking with slowly growing passion.

There on the living room floor, all their problems no longer mattered now that he was holding her, doing all the small things that she had come to expect from him prior to their lovemaking.

She moaned beneath him as he stretched his long thin frame out over hers. He began pulling at her gown so that she could feel it beginning to rip at the shoulders.

"Wait," she said, "wait, darling." He sat back, and she hurriedly began to pull off first her negligee and then the brief gown of matching powder blue that she wore beneath it. She could feel his impatience as she finally got everything off and lay nude before him.

He studied her nakedness for a moment, letting his eyes roam hungrily over her smooth satiny flesh.

"Oh, honey. I'm going to fuck you soooo good!" he cooed, eyeing the reddish-blonde V-shaped mound of her pubic hair that so cleverly hid her secret parts from his sight. His hands went to smooth along her slightly quivering stomach, one finger curling inside the indented bud of her navel, causing her to jump.

"Oooooo," she moaned, her eyes now clenched tightly shut, her pelvis executing little jerky motions in spite of herself. It had been so long even his crude language did not put her off this time as it had so often before. She had often wondered where he got such habits, but she knew that he must have slept with other women before her, he was such an accomplished lover. Most probably he had picked up some things from them. But now she didn't mind just as long as he wanted her, and there was no doubt of that now. She could hear him ripping off his shirt and pants. The almost obscene, quiet noise of his zipper being pulled down, aroused her even more.

"Oh, hurry darling, hurry!" She could feel the cool breeze from the living room window drifting over her taut breasts, tantalizing them still further. Then suddenly he was on her. His naked body pressed tightly against her, pushing her sensitive flesh down into the soft rug of the living room floor. His cock was pressed hard against the hair-lined slit of her pussy, and she pushed up, arching her back as his hands went under her round, firm asscheeks. His penis was spreading the wet vaginal lips apart slowly, allowing the length of it to come in direct, searing contact with her waiting vaginal mouth.

"Oh, God you feel good!" he groaned, smashing his lips against her mouth and wriggling his hips against hers. And as he kissed her, Monica realized how sore her mouth was and there, in the midst of her passion for her husband, the memory of Max Power came to her with full force, and for that split second it was he who held her asscheeks so tightly, he who so easily positioned her willing body so that his cock was touching at the entrance of her pussy, pushing big and hard, trying to enter her.

Brad's cock was getting harder and harder with every second that passed, and he couldn't hold back another instant. His hips jerked forward suddenly and he drove his long thin cock deep into the open mouth of her cunt.

"Aaaaaaaah," she moaned feeling the full length of her husband's penis slip wetly into her. His big, long cock slammed up into her cunt to the very depths of her inner being, warm and taut, stretching the hot fleshy sheath with its rigidity, and she could feel her pussy growing wetter with each second.

"Mmmmmmmmngh!" they both let out a simultaneous grunt as his cock filled her gently pulsing pussy and struck bottom.

Monica could feel Brad's hanging testicles nudging into the spread crack of her upturned ass as she squealed, twisting beneath him with the rapture of his animal-like thrust. He withdrew and plunged in again, screwing tightly into her straining pussy. And once more, he withdrew and plugged her burning cunt with the hardness of his cock.

"Oh, Brad... Brad," she cried out over and over again. She had almost forgotten how good it felt! How could she ever have gone so long before their wedding without letting him fulfill her like this. It was like magic, this overpowering lust that he brought out in her, that made her turn from a demure newly-married bride into a screaming hussy, bucking furiously like a wild woman beneath him, arching her body up so that more of his hot cock could enter her, urging him on to smack his loins against her harder and harder.

She felt totally possessed by him. She was his while his hard body blotted her out in a mock struggle during which he would easily subdue her, grind her into the floor as though she were nothing, take her and make her scream out with the agonizing pleasure of her defeat.

Brad looked down at Monica as she writhed mindlessly beneath him, her eyes were tightly closed and her head tossed back and forth as her hands grabbed for his back and then for his hair, pulling him still closer to her. Her lips were parted and a lewd wail of pleasure issued from them in a steady monotone. He could feel she was beginning to cum as around his thrusting cock, her strong vaginal muscles strained and pulled, sucking him deeper into the whirling vortex of her cunt, trapping his hardened flesh with obscene muscular ripples and twitches.

"God, she's turning out to be a hot little number," he thought. He had been worried for a while at the beginning about that, but he needn't have bothered he realized.

"Come on, honey," he urged, grabbing hold of her bobbing breasts and twisting the nipples savagely. "Come on, come to Daddy!"

The searing pain in Monica's hardened nipples, sent shock waves through her and almost succeeded in blocking the orgasm that had begun to mount steadily deep in her squirming belly. But somehow, the pain seemed to reach the seething hot-bed of her cunt as a spark that set off an even greater ecstasy than she had been feeling before.

"OH OH OH NOOOOooooooooH!" she cried out as she was overcome by the shattering sensation of the blunt cudgel of Brad's prick churning inside the flaming flanges of her pussy, hitting like a sledge hammer against her upturned cervix, pushing until she could bear it no more. She had to give way to it. Suddenly she let loose, and it was like a dam breaking, releasing a flood-tide of pleasure that flowed with crashing fury throughout her body.

Brad's big nine-inch cock had begun to expand inside his wife's trembling cunt, growing bigger and bigger until he thought it might burst from the fantastic pressure of lust building in his balls. Monica's legs were opening up, scissoring back and forth, then jack-knifed out and around over his back as her heels pounded wildly on him. He could tell that her orgasm was building and he strove to hold himself back while he continued to thrust mercilessly into her.

"Oh, yeah... oh yeah!" he cried, savoring the delicious feel of Monica's wet crotch grinding up to meet his ramming penis. God, he was fucking her like he would any little whore off the streets! It sure did feel GOOD, after all that time she made him wait! It still made him mad when he thought about it even after all this time.

Suddenly Monica's shapely legs tightened convulsively around his back, and her hands clawed at his hair as though she wanted to pull it out. He felt her take in a huge lung-full of air and hold it. Then her scream echoed throughout the room as she clutched wildly as though trying to save herself from the steep plunge of her orgasm.

"Wait for me honey, wait for me!" he yelled over her voice as the muscles of his prick gathered, preparing for the final explosion, and let loose a torrent of white hot sperm far up into her quivering belly, arching backwards as he pumped the steaming fluid into her receptive cunt. Then with a groan, he collapsed onto her still quivering nakedness.

They lay silent for a while, their bodies trembling together with the memory of their passion.

Finally, Monica opened her eyes, and stroking Brad's back said, "That was beautiful, so beautiful!"

"It sure was," he answered.

He could tell she was going to try to roll out from under him. But he wasn't quite ready for her to do that, he wasn't finished yet.

He pushed deep into her cunt again, feeling his prick begin to stiffen, at first imperceptibly and then more and more and with a motion of his muscles the throbbing member twitched lewdly against her sensitive womb.

"OoooooH!" she groaned, as the sensation began to renew itself deep in her loins. "Oh, Brad. I have to go downtown to pay some bills... before…."

"Fuck the bills!" he said savagely. She sure did make him mad talking about bills all the time. He slammed into her soaking wet pussy, feeling the juices seeping out around his cock and down the crack of her ass.

Monica gasped, the wind knocked out of her by this unexpected thrust. At first she was upset by his attitude and the language that he used, but then as his hardness slid wetly in and out of her pussy, she began to respond in kind to him, once more offering her stretched pink vaginal slit to him to use as he saw fit.

Brad was annoyed. What he really wanted to do was to ask Monica to suck him. To put his soft cock in her mouth and to feel it grow harder and harder between her open lips but he knew that she would refuse, and he just didn't feel up to an argument about it. So he stabbed into her, venting his anger, enjoying using her as an object this time for his own gratification.

A wry smile of satisfaction twisted his lips as he felt Monica swiftly begin to approach climax again beneath him. "Good," he thought... "Good!"

Then moments later when he had her whimpering beneath him, he had an idea.

"Get up!" he commanded, helping her by kneeling back and lifting her waist up. He turned her over on her belly before she could begin to protest, and then grabbed her by the waist again, pulling her smooth round asscheeks up to meet him. The sight of her exposed behind sent a shiver of lust through him. He knew that she wouldn't particularly like being taken from behind, and that was just why it was going to be so good. He poked his rock-hard cock into the gaping entrance to her cunt and pulled her back onto it unceremoniously.

"Aaaaaagh!" Monica cried out from the deeper penetration. Her face was red, her long blonde hair hanging down to the floor as she unsteadily attempted to support herself on her hands and knees while Brad rammed into her harder and harder. She felt completely humiliated kneeling slave-like before him, her limp body quaking at the strange attack by her husband. He had never done this before. It made her feel dirty, like an animal There was just something NOT NICE about it!

Brad pulled back, ready to screw into her again, feeling her smooth white asscheeks shake at each contact with his tightly muscled stomach, making a loud SMACK as his long cock sunk into her velvety depths. He knew he was going to cum soon, so he quickened his pace, sweat dripping from his brow, his smooth chest glistening from exertion. Letting loose of her waist, he reached around her torso and cupped his hands around Monica's jiggling breasts, squeezing their bulk into her chest and pulling her sharply back and down on his rampant prick. He could see rivulets of perspiration pouring off of Monica's back as he controlled her body by the pressure of his hands on her breasts and his cock in her tormented pussy.

Chills rippled along his spine, making him groan as he heard her saying, "NO! NO!" and he realized that he must be hurting her, but he couldn't stop now. All of him was tensed maddeningly, straining to the breaking point as the friction grew hotter up and down on his driving cock and each time, he was striking into the softest, most vulnerable part of her.

Over and over he moaned, hearing Monica's cries only dimly now, muttering incoherently as his blood pounded wildly in his ears. The muscles of his stomach felt as though they might snap as suddenly it was happening, the warm semen was once more spewing forth in great jerking waves from his balls, traveling the full length of his cock and streaming into the hot cavern of Monica's cunt.

He screamed something incoherent, and fell forward, forcing Monica's body down flat beneath him, and then he lay there on top of her trying to catch his breath.

"Whew!" he said, and then by way of making up to Monica, "you're something else, baby, something else!"

Monica lay beneath him, her breasts hurt from his manipulations and from being crushed into the floor, even though the carpet was soft. She felt very strange, but how could she really protest to him about what had just happened. He seemed to have enjoyed it so much, and she supposed that that was all a part of a wife's duty. It was all very odd sometimes. So she tried to put her distress out of her mind telling herself that she was fortunate to have a husband who loved her and desired her so much.

Brad rolled over to the floor, and lay staring at the ceiling for a while. He was exhausted but he felt good. He was thinking about what Monica had been telling him earlier, about the two of them working up in Petaluma. Hadn't he been just a little too strong in refusing? After the scene they had just had, he didn't feel he had too much cause for being jealous of Monica. Besides, he would be around all the time anyway. It sure would beat her and her mother nagging him about getting a job. He decided to mull it over at least, and as he lay there he drifted into a light sleep.

Monica got up to put her negligee on and went to get a blanket for Brad, tossing it over his long nude body. She started to tiptoe into the bathroom to shower and dress for what was left of the day before she had to go to work that evening, but before she reached the door, the telephone rang. She hurried to pick it up before it woke Brad up.

"Hello? Yes, this is Mrs. Gellar, yes… well, we put a check in the mail today, well… yes, you'll get it before the twentieth... yes, definitely!" She hung up the phone in disgust. It was the telephone company again. There was just no way to stretch the money she had to cover all the bills without borrowing from her parents again, and she hated to do that. She stood there thinking... trying to figure out what the best course to take would be, unaware that Brad was lying on the floor awake and watching her.

She adjusted her negligee which had fallen away to expose one full pink-nippled breast and tightened it around her waist. Then with a worried expression on her face, she started to leave the room again. But before she had taken two steps, Brad said. "If you see Power tonight, tell him we'll go along with the deal, on a trial basis!"


"Are you sure this is the place? It looks awfully fancy so far."

Monica looked down again at the instructions that Max Power had written out for her. "Yes, it says turn right. I keep telling you, it probably is very fancy. Mr. Power has a great deal of money, I'm sure."

"Okay, Okay It just seems like we've been driving forever, that's all!" Brad felt in a very ill humor, although he was glad to have liquidated all of his problems with the apartment back in San Francisco without having to borrow to do it. Power had given them enough money as advance on both of their salaries to take care of everything. But now he was having second thoughts, wondering if he would really be able to write here as both Power and Monica, had assured him he would.

"Darling, will you relax." Monica said. "Please! Everything is going to be all right!"

"I guess you're right, honey. I'm sorry. You've just got to admit, it's not everyday that a fellow. I mean a couple gets an offer like this!"

They had been driving for about five minutes when suddenly there appeared over the hill a weathervane atop a high turret, and then the turret itself and then rest of the luxurious Tudor mansion of stone and rough hewn wood.

"Whew!" Brad let out a long low whistle.

Monica drew in her breath sharply. She had expected it to be beautiful, but nothing like this! She shifted excitedly in her seat, peering out the window as the car continued along the winding road that led to the mansion. They passed horses grazing in fields and what appeared to be stables. Monica could hardly contain herself, it was fabulous! And she had told Brad to relax! . For days now she had been in high state of nervousness that she made every effort to conceal. When she had mentioned the whole project to Brad, she had never in a million years expected him to agree to it. And then she had to face with the problem of telling Max about it when he appeared on schedule at Starkers.

It had been hard to face him, to tell him that she would work for him after all when only the night before he had behaved like such a monster. How to reconcile the two things? She decided that a firm approach was the best, and she had launched into a long harangue about her morality which Max Power promptly put an end to by telling her, "Monica, don't worry. You won't have to do anything you don't really want to do. Contrary to appearances last night, I don't believe in forcing people to do things against their will!"

Then after telling her he would meet with her and her husband the following day to arrange everything, he had abruptly returned to his lobster, leaving Monica a little bit embarrassed by her school girl speech. And now it looked as though everything was going to be just fine. They pulled up in front of the house and stopped, uncertain whether they should be going to that entrance or one of the others. But the big wooden door of the main entrance swung open and Max came out to greet them. He was wearing a navy blazer and gold-colored foulard tied around his neck. His dark wavy hair glinted in the fading sunlight. Monica couldn't help noticing how handsome he looked, the Lord of the Manor! He was completely at ease, almost so casual that he made them nervous as he showed them around. He maintained a steady patter, almost as though he were a guide who had repeated the same phrases many times, while they tried not to gawk like tourists at the opulent surroundings.

A castle in the Tudor style Power was saying, "My grandfather had these stones brought over piece by piece from England, and a lot of the paneling, too. This room we call the Princess' suite because my grandfather had a lady friend who was a princess whose name I am not at liberty to tell you just now. There are twenty-two rooms here, each one specially designed for the people who used to inhabit them at various times, that includes the old servants quarters, which I have had remodeled to make a rather comfortable apartment with offices on the second floor. This grand hall is rather wonderful isn't it. Those stained glass windows always give me pleasure. We keep the piano in good condition, although I don't play it, but my mother used to. Actually, the place is pretty much empty most of the time, except for the people who stay here to help me take care of it. Of course, I entertain fairly often, at which time the rooms may be filled for a day or so. Downstairs we have what I call the dungeon," he continued leading them into a cavern-like area with rough rock walls. "It's the bar, you see, my own personal dance hall!" He flicked a switch and loud rock music came pouring out of hidden speakers in the walls.

"There is more, but you'll see all that later. Right now you must be tired, and we'll be having dinner shortly."

He led them back up stairs to the top floor where he showed them a luxurious suite of rooms that they were to call theirs for the duration of their stay.

"I want to get this straight right at the beginning," he told them just before he left, "I don't consider you as servants or even employees at all; you are my friends, and we will have our dinners and meals together as do my other guests. As for your functions in this household we will go into complete detail about enjoy yourselves while you're here that is one of the primary rules of the house! Dinner in an hour folks, In the big dining room, oh yes, why not wear something special for your first evening here, after all, it is kind of a celebration."

He closed the big oak door behind him with a smile and he was gone.

"Whoopeeee!" Brad grabbed Monica up from the bed where she was sitting and whirled her around the room. "Oh, baby, we hit the jackpot this time. Look at this room, and that sitting room; look at this place! It's a dream, don't pinch me whatever you do, I don't want to wake up." They pranced hysterically for a few minutes, giggling and shouting their excitement. Then they went through the three rooms and bath that they would occupy, looking in all the cabinets and drawers, examining the delicately carved woodwork and furniture. The windows were of leaded glass and the entire suite opened out over an enormous azure blue swimming pool below. Each room had French doors leading onto a stone terrace on which were placed colorful tables and chaises.

They were ecstatic and Monica was doubly happy because it was the first time in a long time that she had seen Brad so happy. Things had seemed to go wrong from the day or rather the night they were married, and he had shown her a dark, sullen side of his nature that she had never dreamed existed. She was inwardly proud of herself for having arranged this for them, and she hoped that Brad was giving her credit deep down inside for their good fortune.

While she relaxed in the deep, old-fashioned tub filled almost to the brim with water, she pondered the irony of her adventure with Max Power, sending forth a silent prayer of thanks to the powers that had made her reconsider his offer.


A few hours later Brad and Monica were sitting at the long lace clothed table in the main dining room. The dinner had been prepared by a Parisian Chef, Pierre, who had lived with his wife and daughter in the apartment that had been created out of the former servants' quarters.

Shana, their 18-year old daughter, was the maid whose sole function seemed to be to serve meals as decoratively as possible.

Brad and Monica sat facing each other across the table while during the dinner of stuffed pheasant and wild rice, Max sat at the head of the table. They were rapidly overcoming the nervousness they experienced in the unusual situation due to the copious filling of their crystal glasses with vintage wines, one for each course, ending with a dessert of delicate nuts served with warm cognac. At the end of it, Monica felt slightly tipsy, and she could tell that Brad was downright drunk, although he was holding it very well. She felt flushed and excited by the dinner, and Max's elegant, sophisticated dinner conversation, It was very similar to a book she had read once, or was it a movie, In any case, she remembered that Max's part was played by some romantic star and that she had been very impressed with him as an impressionable teenager.

Max proposed that they retire to the drawing room for coffee and brandy. As they rose from the table, Monica noticed how Brad staggered and frowned across at him. Her look was lost on him, however, since nothing could have marred the dazed good mood he was in.

As they entered the drawing room, he clapped his hand confidentially on Max's shoulder, "I've got to hand it to you, Max," he said. "You're a damned good host."

Monica winced, but noticed that Max did not seem taken aback by this familiarity. Then she remembered his stern speech earlier about their being his guests, and she relaxed a little. And as she sank into a big leather chair she was glad she had decided to wear her silver dress. She knew she looked good in it, but she had had very few chances to wear it. She crossed her legs and noticed that she was sunk so far down in the chair that a great deal of her thighs showed below the short skirt of the dress, and both Max and Brad were sitting directly opposite her. She tried to shift her position so that not so much of her stocking flesh was exposed, but after wiggling a bit, she realized that there was nothing to be done for it so she forgot about it. Before turning the conversation to the many specially bound books lining the room, she did attempt to signal to Brad that they should be going upstairs soon. The large brandy was making her dizzy, and yet, there was a warm, tingling at the base of her spine that made her want to snuggle up in the big double bed with her husband. She hoped that he wouldn't fall asleep right away.

"Well, my friends, I've told you quite a bit about the house and about myself this evening; now if you're willing, we can discuss the future, what help I'll be counting on you for… how we can best work together, etcetera."

Max sat in his favorite chair contemplating the splendid view of Monica's upper thighs, If he just leaned forward a bit he knew that he would be able to see the tender V at the crux of her legs. "Mmmmmmm," he thought, mentally licking his lips, for he knew that it wouldn't be long before he would once more be touching her there. He wondered if she ever thought of that evening in the car, and how it affected her if she did.

She looked even better than he had thought in the setting of Power Manor, and she would look even better as time went on, he mused. Now he hoped the subtle additions he had made to Mr. and Mrs. Gellar's brandy would soon have the desired effect. He knew that the best thing he could do under the circumstances was to continue talking in his low monotone until Brad had to leave,

"So you see Brad, we'll have all the time you like for your writing. I just need to make sure the grounds are kept in the finest shape possible. I'm a Capricorn. Do you go in for that sort of thing? Well, whether you believe it or not. I like order around me... a Capricorn trait. You will have people to help you plan and organize and people to do the manual labor that you don't care to do yourself... The main thing that I want to know is that you are responsible for these things, right?"

Max could see that Brad's eyes were heavy lidded and that his perfunctory nod was about all he could muster as an answer.

"Now as for the house, the pool, the stables. You will largely act as a sort of overseer, Tibbs, the caretaker who has been here since my fathers time will help you out and show you everything you need to know about the place, from the billiard tables in the attic to the Cabanas below the swimming pool. Is there anything you'd like to ask me this evening?"

"Uh!" Brad could barely speak, his words came out in a garbled rush, and then he fell silent realizing that he was making no sense. "Better go to bed, sorry," he managed to blurt out, lurching forward from his chair.

Monica jumped up and ran to help him, and Max grabbed him by the arm. Together they helped him up the large, sweeping stairway, richly decorated with hanging tapestries and got him into the bedroom where he collapsed on the bed.

Monica stood by, not knowing what to do first." I should get him out of his things. Oh, I'm sorry, Mr.. I mean Max. I'm sorry this had to spoil our first evening here. We're not used to alcohol, you know, and Brad."

"My dear, the best of us have these little mishaps. Now I'd suggest you help him out of his clothes and in the morning I'll have a special breakfast drink prepared for him that will make him feel as good as new! Meanwhile, if you feel up to it and wish to continue our little talk... I'll be downstairs for another hour. Otherwise, have a good night's sleep, and I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night Max. Thank you so much for everything, the dinner everything." She tried to encompass all the gratitude she felt, but the whole situation was too much for her. She had never seen Brad this way and to have such a thing happen now. And she wasn't feeling any too well herself. It wasn't that she felt ill, it's just that she was beginning to feel so strange. She couldn't quite put her finger on it... it was a way she had never felt before. As Max closed the door behind him, she looked with dismay at her sleeping husband. Dead to the world! And a wave of resentment rose within her. Was their life together to be like this always! Slowly she bent over to help him undress. It was hard, he was like dead weight, but finally she had gotten him under the covers. He never wore pajamas so she at least didn't have to go through getting him dressed again once he was nude.

Monica pulled the covers up over her husband, and, as she bent over she got a sudden 'rush' in her head. It seemed to get everything going in her brain, and suddenly she was not only wide awake, but she had so many thoughts in her head that she wanted to get them out. She just had to talk to someone!


Downstairs in the library, Max poured himself a brandy and soda from the well-stocked bar, glanced at his pocket watch which told him that if all went as he had planned it, Monica should be appearing in the doorway within five minutes. The mild stimulant he had given her contained a minute portion of a powerful aphrodisiac. Not enough to make her do anything she did not really want to do, just enough to make her let her guard down a little. Max sat down in his chair facing the door. He had placed a soothing Bach prelude on the record player and its music swelled, filling the room with melodious sound. Max did not expect to have to resort to the use of drugs after this evening. It's just that he could accomplish in one evening what it might take him several weeks to accomplish otherwise, and he was a very busy man. He heard a rustle at the door, and from his vantage point he watched as the brass door handle turned slowly and the door opened a crack.

"Why, Monica," he said. "I'm so glad you decided to come down! This is the most peaceful part of the day for me, when the whole house is still. Come in; don't just stand there!"

Monica pushed the door open further and stepped into the room. She was still wearing the short silver dress with the low back she had been wearing earlier, but now her hair was curled softly on her shoulders the way she had left it when she was brushing it and decided she wasn't ready to go to bed yet.

"I, I just wasn't sleepy yet, somehow." she began nervously. Her eyes already shining with the brightness of the drug's effect.

She moved over toward the chair she had been sitting in earlier but Max, as he stood up to greet her, insisted that she join him on the sofa.

"My mind seems so full of questions to ask you." she began, even before she had sat down, her words coming quickly. "You know we never did get to discuss the details of what you want me to do here."

"Yes, of course, and what better time than now?" Max rose from the sofa and went to the bar. "What will you have?"

"Oh, anything, what would you suggest."

"Having what I'm having... a Courvoisier and soda; wonderful for the nerves!" He began to mix and pour and in a short time returned to her, holding a tall glass filled to the brim with dark honey colored brew.

Monica took the glass and sipped at it cautiously. "Oh, it is nice," she said. "I've never had that. In fact, I think I've never had so many new things as I've had tonight!" She laughed and Max laughed with her, carefully observing her actions for further signs of reaction.

"You know." she began, completely wired now. "I wanted to apologize to you, I mean I never would have thought that before this moment I would be saying this, but well, I'd like to tell you that I seriously misjudged you, I guess you know that."

Max let her rattle on, the sound of her words like music to his ears. During the course of their one-sided conversation he got up and refilled the glass that she had nervously emptied.

By this time Monica was feeling very odd. She didn't seem to have much control over what she was saying and she knew it, but knowing it didn't seem to help. Everything spinning in her head just had to get out... disconnected thoughts, bits of phrases, and now that strange feeling she had had earlier in the pit of her stomach was returning. When she looked at Max, his handsome form was blurred, and she blinked her eyes trying to get a clearer image of him, but the blinking only helped for a few seconds, and then everything in the room, including Max, blurred again.

"I guess I should go up to bed now." Monica began, but made no move to go. She knew that when she got upstairs, she would be faced with Brad's snoring body taking up most of the bed, and the dismal prospect of staying awake all alone made her remain where she was.

"Oh, don't go just yet, Monica," Max was saying. "You wanted me to explain some things about the things you'll be doing, didn't you?"

Monica blushed deep crimson. There was a sudden strange tingling down between her legs, like an itch, only a little different. "Yes, of course," she said, shifting her weight on the sofa. "I've been talking too much, you've hardly had a moment to get a word in edgewise!"

"I like to hear you talk," Max answered. Then he embarked upon a thorough explanation of what he would expect from her in the next few days. As he spoke, Monica tried not to fidget too much on the couch... She thought to herself that she must remember never to drink as much again as she had that evening. It did such odd things to her. She was having a hard time listening to what Max was telling her, the pressure between her thighs was growing and making her more and more uncomfortable. "What's happening to me?" she wondered, feeling panicky as Max inched closer to her as he continued talking. She felt a distinct attraction to him building inside her, an attraction that she had never expected to have after all, she was a married woman, her husband was asleep upstairs She should be leaving… going upstairs, too.

Max sensed her tensing and in order to prevent her rising, he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. Monica was shocked by what was happening, but she was more shocked that she made no move to resist. Something was making her totally incapable of resisting! She could feel her breasts pressing softly against Max's chest.

"Oh God!" she said.

"What's wrong," Max whispered into her ear.

She couldn't manage to say anything. Little pinpoints of unwanted lust were racing through her, arousing her body in spite of her desires to the contrary. They stayed like that without moving for what seemed to be forever, as Max squeezed her tightly to his body. She almost didn't dare to breathe for fear she would make a gesture that would make everything worse, even more explicit than her remaining unmoving in this man's arms.

Fear swelled in her throat as she felt another stab of desire penetrate down between her thighs. Tiny tears filled her eyes as she stared unseeing into Max's velvet lapel, breathing in his strong masculine scent with quivering nostrils.

Without saying a word, Max reached out for Monica's glass and brought it to her lips. She let herself fall limply against him and drank in desperation. Perhaps the liquor would give her courage to fight, to leave. There was no excuse for what she was doing. She couldn't do this to Brad! The brandy burned its way down her throat she drank it so fast, and she felt it speeding through her blood. It did seem to calm her some, but she still did not move from the warmth of Max's arms. She felt oddly humiliated, something akin to the way she had felt that night in his car, only this was worse, this time she was a party to it.

Max slipped his hand up her bared back, smoothing it along her silky skin, then he brought it down and cupped it under her breast. He could tell by her shiver that it wouldn't be long now before she was just the way he wanted her. Too bad he had to resort to artificial means of getting her to do what she really wanted to do but didn't have the guts to do on her own, he thought!

The combination of brandy, and the drugs she had unknowingly consumed began to turn her body into a bundle of raw nerve ends. She could hardly believe what was happening, and yet something in her was hoping that it would continue. She could feel Max's warm hand begin to move down inside the front of her dress and under her bra to the nakedness of her breast. It was as though she was watching it happening to someone else, but the delicious feeling racing through her belonged to her and her alone. Suddenly he was manipulating her tiny hard nipples, rolling them like little balls between his thumb and forefinger. His tongue was whirling in her ear, teasing it with his saliva, and then a trail of wet traced across her cheeks and his mouth was locked to hers.

There was no sense trying to twist away. The force of his tongue deep inside her mouth made it impossible for her to move her head, even if she had wanted to. It was just too much. Her mind was filled with a haze of excitement and still a corner of it turned to her husband upstairs. What if he were to wake up and find her gone? What if he were to find them? She knew that Brad would kill her if he ever found her with another man. And yet, she found her tongue responding, pushing obscenely against Max's. Small pin pricks of sensation emanated from her nipples as Max continued twisting them alternating from one breast to the other beneath her dress. Max sucked back at her tongue, drawing it deep into the cavern of his mouth and Monica began to feel an animal-like sense of abandon welling up in her. She knew that could do nothing to stop this deep wonderful kiss. No one had ever kissed her like this… ever. The kiss went on and on, Max's tongue moving about in unending random patterns in her wide open mouth. And she was grateful that nothing more was happening, the way she was feeling, she was apt to do anything... ANYTHING. A lewd picture of herself and Max lying naked on the floor, her raw nerve-endings throbbed violently. She pushed the picture out of her mind as quickly as she could, but it was no use. She knew that she had hopelessly compromised herself, just by thinking such a thought!

Finally Max withdrew his lips from hers, leaving her panting, gasping for breath, still caught up in his arms. Then a sudden twitch between her legs and she tried to press them together as tightly as possible.

"Please… please don't," she stammered. But his hand was already plunging down her back and beneath the slick material of her dress to the soft nether cheeks of her asscheeks. He cupped her from behind, one round moon-shaped buttock in each hand, and pulled her still closer to him.

Max continued his firm massage, realizing that any hesitation now could mean the whole game. He chuckled inwardly as he felt Monica's smooth skinned asscheeks, his fingers tapping and kneading the soft flesh as though he were examining some rare material. He shifted his body so that there was more room for both of their bodies and then he scooped Monica's unresisting body down and over, so that her legs spread sideways and she was herself lying on the couch next to him, then he pressed his own body down beside hers so that she could feel the rising hardness beneath his pants pressing against her moistened genitals.

Monica felt as though she were sinking into a bottomless abyss. Her eyes were now tightly shut, as though she could avoid what was going on by not seeing, but Max renewed pressure on her breast causing her to moan softly in helpless submission. It was all too much for her. What on earth could she do!

"No! NO." the words formed in her mind, but could not come to her lips as the hardness of Max's bulging cock rose and nudged at her trembling lower belly, and another voice was urging, yes, yes! She gasped as she felt Max's fingers come into searing contact with her upper thighs, then she felt a finger slowly slipping under the elastic leg-band of her panties and she made a feeble attempt to jerk away from his hand, squirming back and whimpering as the thick digit moved relentlessly on and finding the narrow slit of her pussy, slipped comfortably into the moist split between the small soft pillows of flesh tufted with pubic hair and making electrifying contact with the small, pulsating head of her clit.

"Mmmmmmaah!" she moaned out, unable to hold back the loud groan of excruciating pleasure that she felt. Tears streamed down her cheek as Monica saw herself as though in a mirror, reacting to the wonderful delicious feel of his hands as they steadily caressed her nipples and her pussy. Her hips began to rotate in an odd rhythmic motion as his hand worked harder and harder among the sensitive folds of her pussy.

"Oh, God… oh God!" she thought, no other man had ever made her respond like this, no one but Brad, and even Brad had never made her feel what she was feeling now!

Her voice suddenly returned and, in desperation, straining to get the words out before another sigh of pleasure escaped her lips, she said haltingly, "No, Max, I can't do this, don't!"

She thought he was going to suddenly press his penis deep into her and make her right there on the couch and something inside her desperately wanted that to put an end to the unbearable yearning between her now widely spread and flailing thighs but Max had other plans. He continued rummaging about between her legs until he knew she was wild out of her head, and then, he stopped.

Monica felt the cold air replacing the warm wetness of Max's hand on her thirsting pussy, and she was left hanging in mid-air, her legs still obscenely spread, skirt high around her waist, helplessly waiting for more of the unwanted pleasure that the drug racing in her veins demanded. Max stood up and took in the lewd sight of this prim and proper girl, and it did his heart good to see her that way. The bulge of his huge cock against his trousers made him contemplate what it would feel like plunged deep inside her tight young cunt. But there was plenty of time for that, he thought. On this first occasion, he wanted to do something special... something that he was sure Monica had never even considered doing before.

He bent over and quickly pushed her dress up around her waist and panties down from her hips, pulling them over her legs and off, throwing them to the floor beside the sofa. There, spread temptingly before him, was the burnished gold of Monica's pussy, neatly framed by two of the most fabulous thighs he had ever seen.

"My, you certainly are a nice addition to the family," he mused. Then he reached down again and pulled Monica into a sitting position. Monica looked at him, wide-eyed with fright and unsatisfied longing. She was so emotionally upset that she could only let herself be manipulated like a big beautiful puppet.

"Wha-what are you going to do?" she managed to stammer.

"You'll see!" Max replied. "Do you like this selection?" he asked nonchalantly, referring to the music which continued to pour forth from the speakers into the room. "Handel's Water Music… superb rendition, I might add!" And with that he knelt down in front of Monica and carefully spread her long slender legs so that there was one on each side of his head.

Monica was dimly aware of what was happening. She remained slouched down in the soft of the cushions, the cool leather touching against her bared asscheeks. She could see Max's full head of black hair bending down, and then, she knew with certainly what was going to happen. Something so obscene, she had never dared think that it would ever happen to her! His lips were pressing against her lower belly, creating a wet chill that spiraled the length of her spine.

With a small cry, she quickly tangled her hands in his thick hair in an attempt to push his head back, but her hands only seemed to make the inevitable happen taster, for his lips were now at the tender moistness of her helpless pussy, parting the soft silky pubic hair, salaciously darting his tongue into the burning crevice of her pussy.

His palms pushed against the inside of her quivering thighs to prevent her closing her legs as he warmed to his lewd task and began a slow tortuous teasing with his tongue and lips of her secret pink vaginal flesh.

Monica lay back, her eyes wide with disbelief, It was all over, she thought, there was nothing worse that could happen to her, nothing more hideous. She attempted to jerk backwards, a low groan escaping from her lips as the strange wetness of his mouth against her ragged, pink-edged cunt drove her mind into an uncontrolled madness of the flesh.

"OOOooo oh God… oh, NOOOOOOOO!" she screamed, whimpering and squirming beneath his attack, while Max greedily licked at her delicate private genitals, enjoying her screams to the fullest. When she kicked her legs out and tried to escape him, it only served to help wedge his head deeper between her legs.

Monica groaned over and over, her hands pulling at Max's hair, her back arched as much as possible, but still the depravity continued. "I can't I can't stand it!" she screamed. "NO!"

But still the agile tongue worked at her defenseless cunt, spearing in and out of her widespread pussy, slipping back and forth over the head of her throbbing clit. And Monica knew that she could never be the same after this… never! Tears streamed down her cheeks, the mascara she had so carefully applied earlier streaked black smudges in tiny trails along her face. She watched Max's head bob strangely up and down, and waggle- back and forth between her spread legs. And as she looked, a tiny tremor of perverted lust sparked inside her again in spite of the God awful act that was being forced upon her, and she knew just as surely as she could feel Max's lips nibbling softly at her cunt that she was lost. The knowledge grew as the unwanted sensations mushroomed in her belly rushing up to overcome her with an overwhelming torrent of lust.

Max could feel the sudden surrender of Monica's body as her muscles grew slack and her hands loosened on his head. Without releasing her ravaged pussy from its unrelenting attack, he raised his eyes in time to see Monica's eyes roll back as a violent shudder overtook her body and her legs drew up and flailed out even wider in complete subjugation.

The humiliation and shame that she felt was replaced by an outright wantonness, and yet, deep down, she could almost watch her own shameful performance. But the forbidden heat in her loins was undeniable and although she was degraded beyond her wildest dreams, it was impossible to stop the ripples of pleasure that traversed her outraged body.

Max increased his attack, doubling his ferocious nuzzling of Monica's tight, widespread crotch. He would show her the kind of pleasure she could expect from now on, he thought. Little hypocritical wench! Before he was through with her, she would be coming to him every day to beg him to do this to her and more to her!

Monica had begun to screw her pelvis up toward Max's face, pushing steadily as though she wanted to get inside his mouth.

"Aaaaa! Unnngg!" she moaned over and over, tiny goose-pimples forming on the surfaces of her skin, beads of perspiration starting out on her forehead. She sobbed and trembled, completely out of control, caught in the raging fire that threatened to devour her. Her lovely pale white thighs jerked up as with a low wail of surrender, she placed them around Max's shoulders pulling his wagging head still closer to the tortuous turmoil in her straining pussy.

All thoughts of her sleeping husband upstairs were gone, burned in the licking flames that surrounded her shamelessly aroused body, as she bucked her hips up into the wonderful piercing pleasure that she had to have.

"Ohhhhhhhh!" she cried wildly brushing the tender bush of her cunt into Max's waiting mouth, while he happily obliged, thinking with amusement of how Monica would feel about all this in the morning. He made a mental note to take care of that husband of hers so that he would not interfere with his future plans for Monica. He watched, delighted, as Monica's face paled, her mouth hanging slack as she felt the first beginning stabs of orgasm building inside her belly. He would see to it that it would be only one of many that she would have that night and in the coming days ahead.


"Well, you don't look as bad as your head feels!" Brad mumbled looking at himself in the bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth. Monica was sure knocked out, too. She was still asleep! Fine way to start out their first day of work, he thought. As he shaved rapidly he tried to remember just how he had gotten to bed the night before, but the details were very fuzzy.

"Oh, well, I can only hope that I didn't make too much of a fool out of myself!"

He heard something like a soft tinkling bell coming from the other room.

"What the," he put down his razor and went through the bedroom where Monica was still deep under the covers and into the living room of their suite. The tinkling sounded again and he realized that someone was at the door. He adjusted his robe and undid the latch.

"Well, good morning!" Shana looked up at Brad's half-shaven face with amusement. She put her hand up to her mouth in an effort to stifle a giggle. "Max asked me to bring you this," her words came out in a thick but charming French accent, as she proffered a small tray containing a large goblet of a murky looking liquid.

"He says, it tastes God awful, but you'll thank him later!"

Brad reached out and took a sip of the drink while Shana stood watching.

"Some service!" he thought, taking in Shana's low neck-lined sweater that offered up two plump twin globes like juicy melons. Her skirt was so short he could swear he'd seen her behind when she turned around.

"Pthah!" he almost gagged on the strange drink, but managed to get some of it down. Shana doubled up with laughter and Brad's displeasure with the drink was not enough to make him fail to notice that her breasts almost popped out of her sweater when she laughed. God, she's not wearing any bra, he thought, and with knockers that size!

"It leaves something to be desired," he told her about the drink. "But I'll take it, thanks."

"Oh, yes, and Max also said to just get acquainted with the grounds and look around. He will not be back until tomorrow, away on business, but Tibbs will be able to give you a lot of information also. I will be happy to be of help!"

"And I will be happy to have you help me!" Brad answered, mocking Shana's accent.

"Good!" she said, giving him a flirtatious wink as she turned to walk away.

Brad stood in the doorway so he could watch her go down the hall, and Shana, knowing that he was watching, turned and smiled at him. "I will meet you at the greenhouse at three."

"It's a deal." Brad called after her, thinking what a cute little ass she had.

He went back into the bathroom to finish his shave and when Monica still hadn't awakened when he had finished he decided it was time to get her up...

"Hey honey," he shook her gently. "Come on, it's almost noon!"

"MNnnnnnn," Monica groaned and turned over. "I don't feel well, Brad."

"Too much to drink, eh? Well Max sent me up some stuff. Maybe you want some, too… supposed to be good for a hangover!"

Monica remained silent. Max's name was enough to freeze her in a kind of catatonic state. The horror she felt about what had happened the night before was too great for her to be able to face up to it as yet. It had almost been daylight when she had finally left the library and wearily and trembling with fatigue had sneaked into bed beside her husband. How could she explain to herself what had happened? Her thighs and calves were still sore from being wound about Max's neck for so long, and there was a throbbing ache between her legs that reminded her of the excruciating pleasures that had been torn from her far into the night. How could she ever have let such a thing happen? She could barely look Brad in the face, afraid that her eyes would tell what had happened.

"Say, I didn't pass out in the library last night, did I?" Brad asked, handing his wife the tall goblet that Shana had given him.

"Uh, no. You were just a little groggy, that's all," Monica answered, preoccupied with her own problems. She took a sip of the drink. "Ugh! It's awful, what is it?"

"Something Max sent up, I told you. He's gone out of town until tomorrow, but he sent it up before he left."

Brad was looking in the mirror adjusting a new turtleneck sweater that he had bought especially for the country life. "He says we should just get familiar with the place today, what a guy! I gotta hand it to you honey, this is really a far out deal!"

Monica took another sip of the foul-tasting drink. Her head did seem to be clearing some. At least Max was away, she wouldn't have to face him that day anyway.

"Honey, I'm going downstairs and start looking around. You take your time. I guess you just let Pierre know when you want something to eat. I'll see you later!" He pecked Monica on the cheek and hurried out the door, scarcely waiting for a reply.

Monica sat up in the big double bed with its soft down pillows and burst out crying. She was so ashamed she didn't know what to do and Brad's enthusiasm made everything still worse! Huge sobs wracked her body as the tears kept coming.

As new images of the depravity she had indulged in came popping into her mind, her tears renewed themselves, multiplying and cascading down to the pale pillow case.

Brad had had a very agreeable discussion with Tibbs who had shown him the inner workings of Power Manor from the huge furnace to the enormous attic. He had taken him down by the stable to introduce him to the stable hands who lived in bunkers and to the more than thirty beautiful horses there. The ruddy cheeked old man enjoyed telling him stories of the way the place had been in the 'old days' but he agreed that young Max Power wasn't doing a bad job of keeping up the old traditions. Tibbs also showed Brad the area that he might wish to use as office space, just below the suite he and Monica had and looking directly out into the pool. There he found all the pertinent data concerning employees who came in daily or on a weekly basis; when the floors were waxed; the linen sent out, etc. Some of this he realized would come under Monica's domain and these things he put aside.

He had lunch in the office by himself after discovering that Monica planned to remain in her room upstairs most of the day . Women! He would never understand them. Here they were in the best set-up that anyone could imagine and she was moping about upstairs! He hoped she would straighten out by the time Max got back the next day!

When he had rearranged some of the priceless furniture that filled his new office, Brad looked at his watch and saw that it was almost three o'clock. He didn't want to pass up his appointment with Shana! He opened the leaded glass windows and stepped onto the terrace of the swimming pool, walked around it and down a grassy sloping hill to the greenhouse.

The fresh California air filled Brad's lungs and he felt good... better than he had felt in ages. This is the life, he thought, this is really the life! Tomorrow he would get out his typewriter and start working, It was going to be a beautiful summer, just beautiful!

As he neared the greenhouse, he let out his characteristic low whistle. "Speaking of beautiful!" he said out loud.

Shana was sitting on the grass by the door of the greenhouse waiting for him. She wore a different outfit from the one she had had on that morning, but it was every bit as brief, if not more so. A tight red sweater with matching skirt that barely came to the tops of her thighs. As Brad approached, he could see that she was wearing matching red panties underneath the skirt.

Pity, he thought.

"Bonjour!" Shana smiled up at him, her eyes squinted from the sun shining directly over Brad's shoulder.

"I'm afraid I don't speak any French." Brad began, sitting down beside her.

"Good!" she answered." I will teach you then, we will start out with bonjour, okay?" Her laughter swelled pleasantly and resounded over the surrounding meadows.

Brad looked at the girl carefully. Her dark hair was clipped closely to her head so that she looked like an elf, with her little nose and big wide black eyes.

"I think you're making fun of me!"

"Of course! Why not? That is why we are here. Is is not?"

Taken aback Brad answered good-naturedly, "I guess so. Yes, I guess so!" He wondered if she was Max Power's girl, probably so, he figured.

"You are wondering if I belong to Monsieur Max, are you not?"

Brad jumped, what was she, a damned mind-reader? "Well, I was thinking."

"You don't have to think. I will tell you what you want to know... just say what you have in your head. You are very handsome. I like your hair!" Her hand went up to ruffle lightly through Brad's hair. Her eyes glinted devilishly, and Brad knew she was enjoying playing with him. She reminded him of a young kitten.

"Say… why are you called Shana? That's not French."

"Monsieur Max, he thought it fit me. My real name is Oriane. Would you like to take a walk?" she asked suddenly. "And I can show you the gardens, a beautiful day like this… you will want to see all the flowers!" She jumped up and began walking slowly in front of him, her sexy pert hips swaying as she bounced jauntily along. Brad got to his feet and followed her toward the high hedges of the English garden. By the time they entered the garden Brad had gotten a wonderful enlightening vision of Shana's full, voluptuous young asscheeks.

His mind was full of vague questions about her. He wondered if she was really as provocative as she seemed, or if she was just playing a game. Also, if she was Max's girl? But they were in the midst of a fabulous garden of high thick hedges now, and Brad looked about him curiously. He had seen pictures of gardens like this, but never the real thing. It was overpowering. They passed through the rose garden's sweet smelling profusion and went on to the beginnings of another high-hedged area.

Shana turned to him, smiling broadly. "It is a maze! Pretty, n'est ce pas? Come on!" She grabbed his hand and led him deep into the maze of hedges until Brad was no longer sure which way was the way out. Then after a few minutes of walking, she suddenly stopped short.

"Ooooh!" she cried, beginning to hop on one foot.

"What's the matter?" Brad asked, catching up with her out of breath from their breakneck pace through the hedges.

Shana leaned heavily against him. "Oh, it is my foot. I must have twisted my ankle the wrong way!"

"Well... uh, don't put any weight on it, here… let's sit down. I'll have a look at it!"

They sat in a nook beside one of the many gravel paths and Brad took Shana's foot in his hand and tried to see if he could see anything wrong... But before he could begin to examine the small fragile ankle, Shana threw her arms around his neck and drew him toward her, toppling him over onto her on the ground.

In his surprise, Brad hardly had time to protest, even if he had wanted to. He did have a few brief moments of guilt, thinking about Monica back at the house, upstairs in her room, but once Shana had inserted her sharp little tongue between his lips, all he could think about was the writhing young flesh that urged his own stirring body to respond.

His hands flew quickly to the two tempting breasts that he had had his eyes on before. God she felt good. He had never had a French girl before, and he could tell by the way his cock was standing at attention that he was more than just curious to see what it would be like. They were lying so that his thigh was pressed between her squirming legs, and she bumped her pelvis up to him so that he could feel the unbearable friction against his steadily hardening cock.

Shana pulled her mouth back from him. "MMMMmmmmmmmm!" she cooed... "You are so nice. You get the idea right away!"

Brad tried to fight back a slight feeling of shock at her words. He could hardly pretend he disapproved of what she was doing, since he was going along so wholeheartedly, but, yet, deep down, he did in a way that he didn't really understand himself. He had both her breasts in his hands now, and he kneaded them hungrily, enjoying the cushiony feel of the little conical mountains of pleasure. He pushed his hands beneath her sweater and glided over her warm, naked skin to the tightened balls of her nipples and grabbed them between nervous fingers.

Shana pulled him ever tighter to her, running her small eager hands over his back, exploring the hard muscle and bone of him. Brad could feel the tense cords of her thighs pulsing against his hips, and in a frenzy of passion, he forced his hands beneath her straining asscheeks, feeling the rippling sinew beneath her softness.

"Okay, honey," he muttered between clenched teeth. "Whatever you want!" he groaned as his hands were pulling down the small red panties that stood between him and paradise. Then the flatness of her belly was wriggling up close to him, her long nails tearing along his back beneath his sweater. Now his hands were cupping the nakedness of her ass as he strained the opening of her crotch ever closer to his hardening cock. With a flick of one hand he swiftly pulled down the zipper of his fly and let his stiff prick bob out to meet Shana's willing flesh.

"Mmmmmmmmm!" he heard her moan as the hot tip of his cock touched between her legs. "Quel homme!" His hand shoved into the wet sensitive slit of her pussy, wallowing in the heat of the gently throbbing area.

"Oh, honey," he panted, "that's nice!"

The French girl moaned softly beneath him, mewling soft words in French that he knew by instinct were words of encouragement.

Her hips were jiggling and her ass was revolving in a lewd invitation that made his cock jump wildly against her widespread crotch, grazing his still rummaging hand. Suddenly her long legs were wrapping around his back and he could feel a small hand on his cock, rapidly positioning him so that he was guided into the secret opening of her young. vibrant cunt.

"Vite! Vite!" she called, "quickly, my cheri, quickly!"

Brad groaned above her as he felt the smooth soft head of his cock stuff into the tightness of the small girl's gently throbbing pussy. It seemed that it would never fit into her, but Shana continued to grunt and push steadily up against him as the still rising cock parted the soft silky hair of her pussy and the blood-filled head slowly sunk into the warm wet depths of her cunt. As soon as Brad felt the elastic flesh of her pussy giving away, he plunged headlong into her, entering with a wet, slushing noise, the full length of his rigid member, jerking up until it crashed hard against the very bottom of her hot young cunt.

Shana growled low and animal-like beneath him, and he watched her eyes roll back in their sockets while her pussy seeped more wetness around his rigid member, oiling the passage for him. She twisted her loins forcing Brad's cock to poke at her yearning insides from various angles.

God, it felt good! Brad could feel sweat standing out on his forehead and he knew his sweater was going to be soaked, but with this little bitch jumping around him like a wild filly he couldn't have cared less. There was an insane intensity about her that made his blood boil. It was all he could do to keep from cumming right away into the bottom of that little hell-hole of her cunt!

"Oh.yessssssss!" Shana hissed. "Yesssssss, fuck me.fuck me good!"

Brad wondered who had taught her those words. Max, he guessed. Well, he'd give her a fucking she'd remember the next time Max was on top of her!

He skewered hard into her wide-spread cunt, forcing his long cock to go deeper still and at the same time he pulled her asscheeks up higher, twisting them around savagely so that he could slap his balls up against them as the blunt cudgel of his cock possessed her. He enjoyed the idea of fucking another man's woman. It seemed to make it feel even better, and he was getting quite a sense of power out of Shana's long low screams of mixed pain and pleasure. His hips ground down onto her as with long smooth strokes he pistoned like a maniac into her upturned pussy. He was determined to fuck her within an inch of her life!

Shana moaned in an unending series of sounds under his pounding assault and he knew he was getting the effect that he wanted as she desperately opened and closed her legs around his back. An exquisite pleasure grew as the silken sheath of her pussy slid back and forth over his thrusting penis and the slapping sound he made each time he pinned her to the ground echoed throughout the hedges around them. Well, she had asked him for it! Now she was getting it. He flung himself down upon her once more, feeling his cock expanding deeper and deeper inside the young French girl's flooded pussy.

"Ommmmph!" she moaned, the wind knocked out of her, and then, "oh, harder, darling… oh, mon amour, harder!"

He could hardly believe his ears, "I'll kill her if I fuck any harder!" he thought. But still he pulled back out of her, leaving only the very tip of his cock touching the small circle of muscle sphincter that surrounded the entrance of her pussy, then sitting back on his knees, he pulled her up, suspending her small well-built body over his upstanding penis. Then he brought her entire body down savagely onto it, spearing her brutally as hard as he could.

"Aaaaaaaagh!" she screamed. "Oh! Oui! C'est ca! That's right, that's right!" she cried over and over as he continued to bring her down to him, until he thought he would go mad. He was watching her pixie face contort with the agony of her lust, her short hair all mussed and standing out all over her head, face glistening with perspiration, while her cunt seeped wetness down along the rigid shaft of his cock and onto her curly pubic hairs that disappeared and reappeared as he swiftly skewered her body up and down yoyo-like.

"Cheri, I'm cumming.cummmmmingggg!" she screamed suddenly, flinging her head back and arching herself backwards so that Brad thought they would almost topple over. The rough ground was cutting into his knees and every muscle in his body ached as he continued to bring her crashing down onto his almost bursting cock, but he was in a frenzy of lewd excitement as Shana's crotch squirmed on and around his rock-like masculinity, her pink-stretched vaginal slit wide open for the battering he was giving it.

Then he felt her explode around him, and she was a mass of uncontrollable words and wriggles, shaking her body in an odd uninhibited dance of abandon. She gurgled strangely, her hands and mouth all over him, kissing, stroking, pulling, kneading, scratching, as her orgasm invaded and overtook her entire being. He had never experienced anything like it, it was all he could do to keep from filling her hot young belly at the same time. But something told him it would be better if he waited There was more he had in mind for her before they were through.

The French girl's body seemed to convulse for a long time and then was finally still. She lay slumped in Brad's arms, getting her breath back, while his long cock still pulsed quietly deep up inside her quivering cunt.

"Aaaaah!" she moaned, sliding backwards as Brad released his hold on her. He pulled out of her pussy, his hardness still aching along the warm, wet corridor. He was about to flip her over on her belly to take her the way he had done his wife the other day, when Shana reached up and grabbed hold of his cock. He almost shot a stream of sperm right into the air, but was able to hold himself back again, when he saw that she was pulling herself up to her knees.

"Hey, what!" His mouth remaining hanging open as Shana slowly began to run her tongue along the smooth head of his swollen cock making a burning circle along the sensitive surface.

"Oh, God!" he murmured as the warmth of her breath enveloped his rod and Shana's hands began to play along the full length of it. Then she took small licks at the engorged bluntness of its head, like she was licking at a candy bar.

"Oh, my God!" he repeated as the delicious sensation rose steadily inside his tormented cock. "Your mouth feels like hot butter."

Her fingers were working steadily at his thick foreskin, pulling it back and forth almost to the top of his cock and then letting it slide back so that his hardened penis arched tautly into her waiting mouth. Then her lips smothered his entire cock, and her head moved with great deliberation downward, allowing the full length of his disappearing rod to be engulfed by her mouth .

Brad's hard long nine-inch prick lay trapped by the smooth encasement of Shana's mouth and throat. He could feel the sharp tantalizing edges of her teeth as they toyed with the bulk of his shaft.

"Ooooooh!" he moaned. He had never imagined that she would be doing this to him. If only he could get Monica to do it, then he would have it made! God, she really knew what she was doing! He could see the top of her head moving up and down, and every now and then when she came up, she would look up at him as if to make sure that he was enjoying it.

The hot, wet contact of her mouth manipulated him expertly and he kept wondering how she was getting the full length of him so far inside her throat without choking. She sucked hard and then soft, dry and then wet, until Brad felt himself tingling from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. He wondered if there would be anything left of him once she had finished.

When he could bear it no more, he grabbed her small dark head in his hands with a low growl of lust, and, pushing his pelvis up, he rammed the spongy head of his cock so far into the depths of her throat that he could feel her jaws straining to accommodate it, and she sputtered, choking with the bulk of it. But he held on tight. He could feel the semen coming from far away, coming fast as his body was inundated with the liquid heat of orgasm.

"Yeah! Yeah!" he cried as he plunged obscenely into her wide open mouth. "Oh, suck it, baby… suck it!" And with one last back-breaking thrust he jammed his jerking cock into her mouth and when it had touched the very back of her throat he spewed forth stream after stream of the hot liquid semen deep down into the gulping recess of her choking gullet.


"Goodbye Monica. Be seeing you soon," Max Power put the receiver down softly in its cradle. She was working out just fine. He had been right about staying away. It had been two weeks since that night in the library, and his absence had enabled her to get over the initial shock of her first night at Power Manor.

He put a match to the tip of one of his specially blended cigars and leaned back to watch the evening news on the color TV in his suite at the Fairlaine. His business had been completed days ago, but as he was particularly anxious to have his plans for Monica work out just as smoothly as possible, he remained in San Francisco a little while longer.

Giving her the party to organize had been a stroke of genius, he thought. He had figured that that would be just the kind of thing she'd like and he was right.

The phone rang, and he reached out to pick it up. "Yes. Send her right up," he said.

A few minutes later Shana was sitting dutifully on Max's lap while his hand searched beneath her short black skirt.

"Tell me more Shana, he urged her as his hand explored higher. "Tell me all about that husband of hers. There's a good girl!"

The cigarette had burned down only about half way before Monica took a long drag on it and stubbed it out.

"God." she thought. "Everyone else has stopped smoking and here I am, just taking it up! What's wrong with me?"

She looked around the large room that both she and Brad had been using as an office for the last two weeks. She never ceased to be impressed by its beauty and its elegance, but her mind was still often preoccupied with Max Power. What a strange man he was! She hadn't even seen him since that first night. Thank heavens! And yet his ghost seemed to lurk around every corner of the house. But he had called every day to give her complete instructions about what he wanted her to do, acting as if nothing had ever happened between them.

It had been puzzling to say the least, but gradually Monica had begun to forget some of the horror she had felt that night, replacing it with a growing interest in the workings of the huge household. She found that she actually had a lot to do at the beginning. There were many things that she wanted to change according to her own likings and there were many files that needed reorganizing at the start. But she could see that once that part was taken care of she would only have about two or three hours of real work a day.

She had originally thought of quitting but Brad was so taken with the place and caught up in what he was doing, that she knew it would be no use suggesting to him that they leave without telling him the whole truth about what had transpired that night in the library, and that she could never do!

But something seemed to be wrong between them anyway, something that she couldn't fathom. Brad had been treating her with an almost alarming degree of flippancy for the past two weeks since they had been there, and she didn't know why or what to do about it. He seemed perfectly happy, even ecstatic at times about being in the country and having the entire place mostly to themselves the majority of the time, but whenever they were alone together at night he either ignored her or was down right rude to her. Even her prettiest nightgown didn't seem to help.

She tried to focus all her attention on the upcoming party. Max had made it clear on the phone that she was somehow being tested by the way she organized this affair and she had been busy for days calling people and sending notes, using phone numbers and addresses from Power's private files. Some of the names of the people had really surprised her. Movie stars, politicians, people in the public eye that she had never expected to meet in this lifetime were all invited and so far all of those she had reached had seemed overjoyed at the prospect of a Party at Max Power's. Apparently he gave one big bash every year, and all his friends looked forward to it with great anticipation.

At Max's bidding, Monica drove into San Francisco one day to purchase several hundred dollars worth of clothes from I. Magnin's and including a special dress for the party. He had insisted she drive the new Maserati he had just bought and, feeling a little self-conscious, she had complied. What an incredible feeling it had been. She had never in her life been able to go into a store like that and know that she could have just about any dress she looked at! She had returned to the house and spread them all out for Brad to see, but he had just grunted and gone off to look at something of importance he said. So Monica had taken the clothes upstairs and tried them all on, one by one in front of the bedroom mirror.

Time passed swiftly and Monica consulted daily with Pierre about the party menu and helped him to do the ordering. Help had to be hired for the party itself, bartenders, waiters and the like and Monica attended to that. She had come a long way from waiting on tables at Starkers!

But at night she slept poorly, beside a snoring Brad, spread out on his back so that she couldn't even hug him. They had made love two times since their arrival at the Manor, but each time, Brad had seemed distant and almost bored. Only the excitement of the party kept her from bogging down completely in a deep depression. That night she would be beautiful, irresistible, and strong. Max was expected back that morning and she would be strong enough to face him, too. An odd curiosity about him had begun to grow inside her especially since Brad had been almost totally neglecting to recognize her as a woman recently. At least there was no doubt as far as that was concerned about Max Power! Her face reddened at the thought of it!

The night before the party when she had longed to have Brad take her in his arms to hold her to him, at least, and tell her what a good job she was doing. Brad pleaded exhaustion and fell asleep almost the minute his head hit the pillows. She knew he couldn't be that exhausted! There just wasn't that much work that he had to do! She turned away and softly cried into the pillow beside his sleeping form, feeling pangs of frustration build in her body. Eventually her thoughts unwillingly turned to Max Power. And equally unwillingly her hand went down to the soft vaginal slit between her thighs where it fingered until she suddenly sighed, her clit gently quivering in a tremulous climax, Monica fell off to a troubled sleep.

The living room was humming. It was only ten-thirty and already scores of people had arrived as Monica stood near the door watching, welcoming those who entered while a special guard who attended all of Power's parties dressed in black tie, stood at her side and carefully surveyed the arrivals for any uninvited interlopers.

Monica was resplendent in her new brocade dress that fit every curve of her body to perfection. Her long legs and thighs were appealingly revealed by its short skirt. The deep burgundy and gold color set off her shining blonde hair to perfection. She felt highly nervous, but strangely in her element. She knew that she was just as beautiful as the most beautiful women who were arriving, some of them international movie stars! And the fact that she had arranged everything made her proud. After a while she began to relax more and to circulate among the guests. She had hardly seen Max since his arrival early that morning. He had stayed in his rooms and only came down once the party had begun. It seemed odd that he didn't want to have more to do with his own party than that, but it occurred to her that perhaps he trusted her to have made everything the way he had asked.

It looked as though it was going to be quite a party. Music from a famous rock hand floated in from the terrace where beautiful people danced frantically beside the pool. Monica passed from group to group, watching as longhaired youths mixed with staid matrons and young girls flirted with old bearded gentlemen. One famous politician seemed just about ready to pounce on a young girl near the piano. The crowd was swelling by the minute and Monica was happily caught up in the mad swirl of human bodies, smoking, drinking, laughing loudly about her. Several young men tried to flirt with her and someone pinched her, but she was unable to make out just who it was from the row of smiling faces behind her. She realized that she hadn't seen Brad in some time, and her feeling of sadness returned to her, full force. She began looking for him, moving from room to room. He wasn't out on the terrace or in the large dining room where the guests were enjoying a buffet dinner of chateaubriand made to order with onions and capers or oysters, lobsters, clams on the half shell, roasted ducklings, every vegetable imaginable, raw and exquisitely prepared by Chef Pierre. Waiters circulated with trays of drinks which they got from the well-stocked bar which had been set up in the dining room.

There was only one other place that Monica hoped to find Brad and that was downstairs in the cave dance hall. She descended the round circular staircase to the strains of Sympathy for the Devil by the Rolling Stones, playing very loud through the many speakers. Then, she stood poised at the rounded entranceway to the small room. Smoke was curling toward the ceiling and there were so many people dancing that she could hardly make out a face. She sniffed. That smoke certainly did smell strange... someone must be smoking a strange kind of cigarette, she thought. Then she thought she made out Brad's tall form over toward a corner of the room. Yes, it was Brad, she started to wave to him, but then she realized that he would never see her through all those people. She stepped down another step, preparing to go in to talk to him, and then she saw that he was bending over. Horrified, she watched as he kissed hungrily the upturned face of a young girl. The girl was Shana!

Monica stood there a moment, her mouth hanging wide in shock. But suddenly in a flash, everything was very clear, why Brad had been acting so strangely for the last two weeks, why he was so tired at night! She could see him clutching at the young French girl as though his life depended on her, holding her low, his hands massaging her behind as they began to move in a slow rhythm to the insinuating music.

Monica turned and ran back up the stairs, hurriedly passing laughing couples who were on their way down to the cave. When she reached the main floor, she had no idea where she was going to go. She couldn't stay at the party the way she felt, It was as if her world had come to an end. Her marriage, her life, everything she had looked forward to as a little girl was gone. She continued to push past people on her way to the main stairway, she just had to go to her room to lie down. Every happy face she saw now, was a reminder of the ugly image of Brad and Shana... kissing obscenely there in front of everyone. What did he care if anyone saw him? It was just ghastly… memories of Shana's smug little smile came back to her. She had always thought that that was just the girl's manner but now she knew that she was mocking her all along, making love to her husband right underneath her nose! And Brad. A fury rose beneath the pain and seemed to stick like a big lump in her throat.

A blur of faces converged on her and a group of playful people grabbed her up, making a circle around her, just as she was about to go up the stairs.

"What's the secret password?" they shouted. "The password!"

"Let me go!" Monica implored, trying hard to hold back her tears.

"That's it… that's the password!" a young girl screamed and they all laughed and let her loose.

Monica flew up the stairs and to the relative quiet of the second floor. Only a few more steps and she would be inside. She planned to lock the door and to never come out. She would pack her things, just the ones she had come with and she would leave...

But just as she was turning the door handle to their apartment a voice called out to her.

"Monica! What's wrong? Why aren't you downstairs?"

Monica turned to face Max Power. Him! Of all people she wanted to see now, he was the last! He had hardly spoken two words to her that day and now he had to talk! She turned away.

"Leave me alone. Please… just leave me alone!"


"This weed sure is nice!" Brad pulled Shana still closer to him and did a lewd imitation of the latest dance step. Around them in the tiny "dance hall" couples embraced, some were wildly necking on the sofa that lined the dark room. Shana slowly pulled Brad over to one of the sofas, and he let himself be led. The smell of marijuana was thick in the enclosure of the cave, adding to the euphoric sensation he was experiencing. He lay back on the fur covered couch and closed his eyes, pulling Shana down on top of him.

He could hear little soft moans every now and then coming from the couches around him and it began to dawn on him that the group in the small cave was going to turn into an orgy. Excitement sparked through him as Shana's hands went tentatively down to his already bulging crotch. He had never participated in a real orgy although he'd always wanted to, and now he was going to get a chance! Then, vaguely, he remembered Monica... He hadn't really thought about her since he'd been downstairs, what if she were to come down and find him?

"Hey, baby," he mumbled in Shana's ear. "This looks like it's gonna turn into a real thing!"

"Of course," Shana said. "It is understood, all those that come down here." Her hand rubbed in slow motion at the bulk of his cock beneath the material of his pants. "Do not worry, mon cher. They are closing the door now, no one else will come!"

Brad breathed a sigh of relief and cast a glance around the smoky room. It seemed as though he had been down there forever. It was wonderful! Some of the most beautiful women he had ever seen were there and now many of them were partially undressed.

"Oh, brother!" he said. He couldn't believe his luck. Ever since he had been at Power Manor, things had been going his way. And it was about time. True, he hadn't done much writing, but that would come... there was plenty of time, he reasoned. Besides, his outlook on life was changing so much that he might want to write about something completely different. It would take time to think it out.

Shana had been taking up every spare moment he had since that first day in the maze of hedges. He had never even dreamed that one woman could think of so many different ways to do it! Whoever started that stuff about French girls knew what he was talking about. What really got him though was that she wasn't jealous. He could tell she was crazy about him and yet she was always talking about other girls to him, asking him about what he did and what he liked to do. It was exciting as hell! And now she finally pulled through with an orgy.

It's a good thing Monica is all excited up about her new job, he thought. It annoyed him to see her changing, wearing all those fancy clothes and acting so damned efficient, but at the same time, he couldn't really complain. It gave him more time to be with Shana.

Brad's fly was unzipped now and his big cock rose obscenely from his pants, while Shana's hand playfully moved up and down the smoothness of its length.

As his thoughts grew more and more vague, Brad abandoned himself willingly to the erotic French girl. He could hear the unmistakable sounds of love-making coming from assorted couples around him, and he knew he would be good for as many combinations as they could throw at him. His hand slipped up the back of Shana's dress and encountered her bare flesh. A shiver went through his body as his cock jerked wildly in Shana's hand. She wasn't wearing any pants!


"Well, tomorrow is your birthday, isn't it?" Max Power lit the last candle on the huge cake that he had prepared. "And it is now," he paused looking at his pocket watch, "two minutes to midnight. We can begin the celebration very shortly. I can't tell you how worried I was that I wouldn't locate you before midnight!"

"Max, this is so… strange." Monica felt her flesh crawling... He had insisted on bringing her to this room in a wing of the house that she had never seen. Her protests had done no good whatsoever and she had had to swallow her tears and follow him down the hall and up the back stairs. They had passed some members of the party who were wandering about the house and they had wished them a pleasant evening. Monica was upset and embarrassed because she knew that they thought that she and Max were lovers. The room was filled with gaily wrapped packages and in the center of it stood a large oak table spread with every delicacy imaginable, including the birthday cake.

"But I don't even remember telling you."

"But you did. We all forget things sometimes. Don't worry about it. What is important is that we enjoy this life while we are still among the living!" Max deftly opened the champagne bottle and filled two crystal glasses to the brim.

Monica took hers, her hand trembling when she touched the slender stemmed glass to her lips.

It was all too confusing. She just didn't understand anything anymore. The more she thought about Brad downstairs with that girl, the angrier she got. And heaven knew what they were doing by this time! And now this! She looked around her, all those packages couldn't be for her It didn't make any sense. It was true her birthday was the next day and she was almost sure that Brad had forgotten. God! They hadn't even been married a year.

The champagne sparkled its way down her throat and hit her stomach. She realized that she hadn't had anything to eat at all that day. The party preparations had taken every moment she had and she was too nervous to eat anyway.

"Monica, I want to tell you how very pleased I am with what you've done. You've done an excellent job. I have had other assistants, but none with your… how shall I put it? flair."

Max Power sat comfortably across from Monica watching her carefully. He guessed what had happened that had upset her so. All he didn't know was at what point in the dance hall orgy she had caught Brad.

Well, he would make her stop thinking about that soon enough, he thought.

"I'm sorry you've had to go through these few rough days, my dear," he said, knowing his words would have a double meaning for her. "But I assure you, it will be smooth sailing from now on in!"

Monica looked at Max over the top of her glass. The champagne was making her feel a little better. If he only knew just how rough it had been, she thought. What kind of man are you anyway, she thought. Something akin to hatred passed through her at the sight of Power's self- assurance. What problems did he have? With all his money he could pay people to have problems for him!

And yet, it was hard not to admire his looks, his poise. It was very hard for her not to think about those packages, and not to be impressed by the fact that he had chosen to remember her birthday in such a grandiose manner. A far cry from Brad. She downed the rest of the champagne in the glass defiantly. Well, she thought. If Brad was going to have a good time, she was too! Darn him anyway! Why should she suffer for a no good louse. Her mothers words swam through her head as though carried on a stream of champagne. "I hope he doesn't turn out to be no-good, oh, still unemployed… remember your health. I hope he'll take good care of you."

Her mother would like Max Power, she thought, looking up at him again as he refilled her glass. He had every thing she had always told her to look for in a husband: money, position, power, looks, and all the things she had studiously avoided looking for, love was what she had wanted… love, disregarding all other considerations.

But, it was Max Power who had done that horrible, ugly sexual thing to her! The memory of his head buried between her parted thighs surged into her head and she almost choked as she tried to swallow.

Max jumped up and patted her forcefully on the back.

"Don't touch me." she cried, standing up and moving away from him.

Max looked surprised. "Of course not," he said. "Please, sit back down. You can't blame me though, for thinking that perhaps you might like me to touch you?"

He stared directly into her eyes, forcing her by sheer will power to look at him. Forcing her to remember each little detail of her position that evening in the library.

"Of course," he continued, "perhaps you prefer my tongue." He said it flatly and without expression and watched Monica sit frozen to her seat, a pained expression on her face.

"You know, Monica," he said, "I know you pretty well." He paused. "Perhaps even better than you know yourself."

Monica felt her blood run cold. It's true, she thought, every word he says is true. His eyes continued to hold hers hypnotically and watched, terrified, as Max rose once more from his seat and approached her. She did not know if she would have the strength to resist him... and yet she knew she must. Had anyone ever resisted him? It seemed as though it would take a will of iron the way she felt at that moment. His piercing dark eyes allowed no weakness of hers to go unnoticed. He had seen it all!

"Gemini," he was saying. "You're a Gemini. I am well aware of the dual nature of your horoscope. Oh, that's right, you're an unbeliever, aren't you? Well. It's just a little hobby of mine... but at times it's amazingly accurate. In your case, for example. But we will talk of all this later. Now there are other, more important things to take care of."

Max took hold of Monica's hand and she rose, following him, dreamlike, thinking all along. Oh, my God… Oh my God! The champagne was making her feel dizzy and her thoughts were muddled. She knew that something was about to happen, something that would change her life forever, and yet there was nothing she could do to stop it. Circumstances had conspired to trap her in this position and now she would have to follow through on it. It was all so unreal, and suddenly she understood those stories of women who found themselves fatally attracted to men they would never ordinarily dream of being involved with.

In spite of this, something inside her kept suggesting that maybe she did want to change her entire life. If it was so hard the other way... if the husband she had loved so dearly could do this to her… perhaps there were other values after all.

The candlelight flickered as she and Max left the table. He led her to a door that she hadn't noticed before, and, opening it, led her inside. She knew before they got in what would be on the other side. A huge bed, covered with a beautiful brocade spread, that and a deep pile rug were the only things in the room.

They stood silently before the bed, and then Monica looked up at Max. He gazed down at her and squeezed her hand slightly as if to reassure her.

Suddenly she felt like the most beautiful, most desirable woman in the world. Perhaps, she mused, as delicate tremors of excitement began to race through her, she had been wrong to turn down all those passes that customers had made at her.

Max bent down and pulled her into his arms, crushing her yielding, voluptuous body to him and pressing his mouth to hers. The memory of what his kiss was like returned instantly and she knew that she had missed it. Missed the taste and smell of him. She thrust her tongue back sharply into the wet cavern of his mouth, breathing deeply as he kissed her back with animal-like passion. Her hurt and humiliation were gone and there seemed that nothing else existed but this place, this time, this man holding her so tightly, with more tenderness and yet more strength than her husband had ever shown her.

Slowly Max began to undress her, removing the new dress that fit her so snugly with gentle hands. Next came her bra, releasing the large firm breasts to the touch of his experienced hands. He slipped down her panties and when she got to her feet, helped her step out of them. He reached up and undid her golden hair letting it fall to her shoulders, and soon she was standing nude before him with the exception of her garter belt, stockings and high heels. He looked her over carefully. She looked even better than he had thought. The rosy tint of her skin glowed softly in the candlelight as he led her to the bed.

"Lie down," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Please," Monica felt her entire body burning with a new kind of heat at the sound of his voice. She was going to give herself to this man. She was going to voluntarily commit adultery with him! It was going to happen now, In just a few seconds on this very bed. And she knew that she had never wanted anything so badly in her life before.

She lay back, feeling the cool of the air caressing her unclothed body. He was looking at her nakedness, she knew, and yet she felt no shame, only a steadily risin