The Lover Next Door
(M+/F+, cheat, rom, size)

by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.com

Marly lay back on the rumpled bed as though she were a broken rag doll. Her legs were spread obscenely apart, one knee slightly bent, her breast jutting out from her chest, and one arm limp across her sperm-filled womb. She was watching her next door neighbor, the man who had just raped her putting his clothes on. She looked at him from the depth of her dark brown eyes, keeping him in focus, not wanting to see what she was looking at, but staring, not missing one movement that he made. Masculine was the only word that came to her mind. It almost amused her that he would put on his shirt before he did his underwear, that his now limp penis hung down beyond the tails of his shorts. Her own husband would never dress in such a disorganized manner.

Peter buttoned his shirt carefully, then knotted his tie, then reached to the floor for his jock shorts. He glanced at the voluptuous young woman laying on the bed, sprawled, her thighs still open and wet, and wanted to go back to her, to burn and scald her as he had done moments before. But, he felt as though she were staring a hole through him, looking at him but seeing what he could only guess at. He put one leg then the other through the shorts, then pulled them up around his waist. He reached inside, adjusted his still half erect prick so that it rode where it should, then took up his trousers and put them on, buttoned the buttons, then cinched up his belt. He took his coat from the chair and rammed his arms through it, then sat on the same chair and put on his shoes and socks. Then he stood and faced her. "Look," he hesitated, talking down to her on the bed from his six feet two inch height, "You were good. And, I'll be back again. I know you enjoyed it even if I did have to force you a little at first."

He leaned slightly forward, wanting to shake the eerie feeling that she gave him, wishing that she would say one word, any word, so that he could be sure that she was hearing what he said. She didn't and her eyes remained as void as they had been when he began speaking. "I'll have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow. And just remember that I came here by your invitation. I don't think you'll tell old Justin anyway. And I don't think he'd care one way or the other. So, see you later." He turned from her, left the bedroom, walked down the hall, then went through the front door, banging it arrogantly shut behind him. Marly heard his tread on the hall floor, then the closing of the door, then silence. She found herself wishing he would have, at least, gone out the back way so the other neighbors wouldn't have seen him leaving... but, oh what the hell. What did it all matter anyway? She lay as she was, wondering why she was so cold, so unrelated to what had happened, then was grateful for the pain that reminded her that she had been raped, used, like a whore by her neighbor, a neighbor she had just met. She forced herself to go over all the events that led up to that sudden happening one hour ago.

When, she wondered, had he first noticed her. In the garden? Through the window? Why hadn't he spoke to her before today, or at least to Justin? It didn't make sense. She didn't know him, except that his name was Peter Aiken and that his wife was a pathetic little thing, involved in community projects, held an office in the parent teacher association where their daughter attended school in the second grade, and puttered around the garden, occasionally holding long monologues with herself while talking to Marly, who knew that she wasn't supposed to listen, to answer, just be a form for the woman to talk at. But she never saw him, or only rarely, going from his car to the house or from his house to his car.

When had he noticed her?

Not that it really mattered, she told herself. He obviously had. Not only had he noticed her, but apparently he had been planning to use her as he had just done, for some time. Her thoughts went back to the morning, to the beginning of her day. She had tumbled from her bed when the alarm had made its first maddening sound, and looked over to Justin's bed. He had been snoring softly, curled into the ball shape that he preferred for sleeping, and then had gone to the bathroom, had shaken Justin awake ever so gently, then kissed him on the forehead, then had gone to the kitchen and started the coffee, made the orange juice, put on the bread and butter and toaster on the table, then had walked outside to smoke a cigarette. She grimaced with the thought of smoking in the garden. Justin did not smoke, could not stand the smell of smoke in the house. Maybe, her mind warned, she had been seen by Peter then, in the garden, early in the morning, blowing her lonely clouds of smoke. But, it had to be before today, she thought. He didn't seem the type to do things so suddenly without some kind of previous plan.

Then, what had she done. She tried to recall, her mind telling her that she had done what she had done every morning or what seemed like millions of years. She had gone back into the house as soon as she had finished her cigarette, knowing that Justin would be stepping out of the shower, then he would be in the kitchen within minutes. She had gone to the small bathroom and brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash to get rid of the odor of cigarette smoke. Then she had returned to the table, took her place, put two pieces of toast in the toaster, and looked as Justin came through the door, dressed for work, ready for his breakfast.

With Justin gone she had cleared the table, put the few dishes in the dishwasher with the ones from the evening meal, set the dial to wash, then had gone to the garden again to smoke. Then she remembered. She had had a strange feeling in the garden, as though there were another presence there other than her own. Yes! Exactly! She could remember it now, the goose bumps on her flesh, the feeling that someone was watching her every moment, that behind a bush someone waited, breathed and watched her. But it had only been a fleeting emotion, she reminded herself. But, her mind said a significant one. Perhaps that was the first warning sign of the danger that was to burst upon her later. Later she had decided to work in the garden, to trim up a hedge, to cut a few branches off a rose bush, perhaps to rid herself of the unreasonable fear or fright that she had felt there. She did so. She had become so involved in her work that the time had slipped by, unheeded, until she grew warm. She covered her eyes with her hand and looked up at the sun. It was almost mid-way in the sky. She had laughed to herself. She had been in the garden much longer than she thought. She went into the kitchen, washed her hands, then made herself a sandwich and a glass of tea, put them on a tray and returned to the garden, she had been there only a moment when she had been interrupted by Peter Aiken's sudden presence. She had felt grateful for the interruption, she remembered. She had smiled at him, then ran a hand over her hair, thinking that she must be a mess since she hadn't looked in the mirror since just after getting out of bed.

"Hello. I'm Peter Aiken. From next door." He said, then paused, waiting for her recognition of him. "Yes, I know. I'm Marly Spencer. I know your wife - I mean, we have spoken together here, from one yard to the next." Marly had smiled, then waited for him to continue.

"I just came over to introduce myself actually. I came home for lunch, which I do occasionally, and found a note from my wife. She had to go to a meeting she had forgotten about. Anyway I saw you here and I thought..." He stopped talking, leaving the thought uncompleted so that it had to turn into an invitation from her.

"Please. Sit down. Would you like a sandwich? I haven't much to offer but..." Marly had said, turning sideways in her chair and watching his progress to a chair.

"No, you don't have to bother. I'm not really hungry, actually. I get tired of drinking lunch and so once in awhile I come home and eat." He smiled, revealing the most perfect white teeth she had seen in a long time.

"I'm afraid I can't offer you a drink. My husband, Justin, doesn't drink... so we don't keep it in the house." Marly finished lamely.

"I don't want a drink, thanks, but don't apologize. Somehow I knew that your husband didn't drink." His tone of voice had changed, a smugness creeping in that angered Marly.

"And how did you know that?" She had asked, not kindly.

"He looks too healthy, actually. He has that glowing, youthful flesh that one associates with non-drinkers." He laughed easily.

Marly had relaxed, had suddenly began to enjoy talking to him. She had had to admit to herself that he was a very handsome man, well-built and he seemed so sure of himself. And it was a pleasant break in her otherwise dull day.

"You don't have children?" He wanted to know. Marly felt that he probably knew the answer to that one, too. She had felt the impulse to tell him that Justin didn't want children now, maybe in a year or so, after he had fully adjusted to his marriage to her and his new job. But she didn't. She had merely said, "No. Not yet. We've only been married two years and... no. We don't have children."

"Habit is hard to break, I guess. I seem to be terribly thirsty. For water," he smiled, standing. Marly had not wanted him to leave. She had felt that he had no intention of it anyway, but he did stand and somehow gave the impression that he would... or that... what? She asked herself. It didn't matter.

It was then that she realized that the pain was lessening, that her pussy was still throbbing, but the pain had gone somewhat and the more pleasurable sensation she had known a few moments before was slowly returning. She straightened her legs, pressed them together and then continued to think over the day.

"I have water. Come in and I'll make you a sandwich and a glass of tea. One must eat, you know, to keep a healthy, youthful complexion like Justin." She had laughed at her own joke and preceded him into the house.

Once inside the door she had remembered how she must look and for some strange reason she wanted to look better for this almost complete stranger. She asked him to sit, then excused herself and had gone through the bedroom, to the bathroom, and run a comb through her hair, deftly washed her face, straightened her blouse and returned to the kitchen.

It was then that the whole sordid... sordid? Well, whatever kind of nightmare it had been, had begun.

Peter had stood up when she entered the kitchen, had moved toward her without a word and had taken her in his arms. Why had she been so willing? she wondered. Had she expected him to do that? Thinking back, she rationalized that she had not had one thought about it, one way or the other. It had simply happened and she had not objected, but she had not responded either... unless... the fact she had not screamed out and fought with all her strength against his lewd advances, could be considered a response.

She could feel his arms about her, much more powerful than those of Justin, much more sure of what he was doing and more knowledgeable about how to go about it. He had kissed her gently, his lips on hers, then his tongue had played about her lips, then over them and into her mouth. She had tried to push him away, but he had a firm hold on her. She relaxed, took his tongue in her mouth and felt a delicious sensation that Justin had never given her reverberating up and down her spine. Then her anger had spilled over, whether at her sudden submission to his probing tongue or at him she didn't know, and she had tried to push him away.

"Relax, baby. I know that husband of yours isn't enough for a little minx like you," he had whispered, directly into her ear, then slipped his mouth wetly down to her neck.

She had tried to break his hold on her, had not wanted to hear anything against Justin from this near stranger. She could not! But, he had lifted her as though she had no weight at all, and carried her into the bedroom. Why hadn't she cried out? she wondered, the answer to her question immediately there: Who would have heard her? No one! She had fought him with her fists, but it was no use. He had been too strong! Yes, that was it! That was the excuse she had been searching for: He was too strong!

He had placed her on the bed and then himself on top of her, had found her mouth with his before her full weight had sunk down into the mattress. He had almost suffocated her, his large tongue in her mouth, probing, his teeth biting and hurting her lips. "No!" she had cried out to the void, the space of the bedroom. "Please. No!" But it had been useless. He had managed to undress her and himself almost without her knowledge. Suddenly she had been stripped naked and was lying on the bed by herself, and he was up, throwing his clothes desperately over the chair. She had tried to escape, to get off the bed, but he had leaped onto it, pinning her under him. He had put her arms over her head, had fought with his head to turn hers and put his mouth onto her again, then he had himself slightly, and twisting and turning his stomach, had touched her sensitive flesh with his hardness, which had felt like steel - hot metal - laying on her stomach. He had continued to kiss her, to bite her lips, then had removed his mouth from hers, and began to suck her breasts. She had struggled, but to no avail.

The hopelessness of her situation had overwhelmed her. There was no one to call to, no instrument at her command that she could use to protect herself with. She tried to get her arms free of his, hoping to scratch and tear his arrogant face, but he held her firmly, arms up over her head and teased her ripe, full breasts, stopping only long enough to say, "God-damned, what a pair you have!" then his mouth had become busy again, biting into her flesh, then sucking her nipples into hardness then back to her mouth. She couldn't remember when the excitement had hit her, but laying now with the residing sensation in her pussy, she was sure it had been later even if the sensation of him kissing her had almost been pleasant, once she had adjusted her mind to the fact that it was really happening to her.

When his mouth had not covered hers she had pleaded, had implored him to stop. But her every word seemed only to spur him on. He had forced her legs apart with his muscular thighs and then shoved the head of his hardness into the softness between her open, defenseless legs, causing her to scream. He had immediately covered his mouth with hers, filled it with his tongue, then ground his hardened penis slowly into her resisting pussy. She felt as though he were killing her, as though he were pushing all the way through the center of her and impaling her with a spear to the mattress beneath her buttocks. Never had her own husband hurt that much, even on the night of their wedding, or any other night. But, then, never had she felt her husband so hard or excited by the feel of her body.

Peter had thrust himself inside her, all of him, splitting her and hurting her because she hadn't really been ready at that moment. The pain seared her insides and seemed to work outward to the top layer of her soft sensitive skin. She moaned, tried to move her hips back to rid herself of him, but it was hopeless. He shoved on into her, ground himself against her, against her words of pleading until suddenly she had felt the soft sacs of his testicles pressing hard against the sensitive hole of her ass.

Almost in a flash the pain had turned to pleasure for Marly. She had felt the hardness and roughness of him with every cell in her pussy, then there it was, the feeling that she had never had before, the desire that had never been opened up inside her, began begging for fulfillment. She knew now that he had sensed that, that where only a moment before she had been crying with pain, her legs had suddenly responded with a will of their own and had snaked desperately around his back, the small of it, and that they were pressing him into her. He released her hands and even though she had wanted to claw at his face only a few minutes before, she now wanted to, and did, use her hands behind his head to press it down onto her mouth and her neck...

With her response, Peter had slowly begun fucking in and out of her, causing to build within her the fires, the desperate need of fulfillment that she had never before experienced. She began to move with him to match her rhythm to his, without wanting to, hating herself for her weakness, hating him because he was raping her, causing her to be unfaithful, against her will, until a dam broke within her and she tightened her hold on him, pulled him to her with all her might. And she had broken her silence.

"Ooooh God!" she remembered murmuring with disbelief up into his open mouth. "I-It's so deep inside me."

He had hooked her legs in his arms and had bent them back so far that her knees were even with her breasts, then moved his cock out of her pussy, almost all the way, with only the head of it inside the soft, clasping lips, then plunged back, causing her to gasp with the force of his passion, the pleasurable pain of him sending fire all through her body. He had plunged, ground against her, kissing and biting with his mouth, until she felt that she could no longer stand it, until she began to expand inside, to break and spill over with the greatest passion that she had ever known. She had clung to him, pressing her body to his, rising off the bed when he moved out of her, had caught him deep inside her cunt and waves of fire and relief had broken deep within her, then, exhausted, amazed at herself and the secrets that this total stranger had opened within her, lay unmoving but open wide for him while he increased his jabbing and plunging. He had moved faster and faster, his breath had come in gasps, then with a long and low moan he had ground within her, spewed his hot wetness inside her, then with piston-like movements had emptied all the remainder of his hot, white sperm deep down into the hidden recess of her satiated belly. Then dropped on top of her, his cock still in her, throbbing out the last dying sensations of his orgasm against the smooth, flooded walls of her pussy.

His prick had started to soften, then had been withdrawn from her leaving a thin trail of their warm secretions lying wetly across her thigh. He had rolled off her, then lay alongside her and tried to put his arm over her. Why, she didn't remember but she had knocked it away in a too late gesture of defiance. She had been fucked, and fucked good right in her own husband's bed, so why hadn't she just admitted it to herself instead of trying to soothe her conscience with a hypocritical act like that. He had taken a deep breath, then got off the bed and began dressing. "Look," he had said and she hadn't really listened to the rest.

Marly didn't know how long she had been laying as he had left her, nude, on the bed. She heard the front door open. She knew it was Justin, home from his day's work. She did not move except to pull a sheet over her nakedness knowing instinctively that he wouldn't approve of her like this.

"Marly?" Justin called, faintly, from the interior of the house. She did not answer. She hadn't thought of him since that morning, not at all since the rape upon her body. She couldn't think of anything to say to him now, even to answer his summons, so she said nothing. Shortly he entered the bedroom, looked at her on the bed, then, "Are you all right? Didn't you hear me call you?" Her answer was simple: "Yes."

He removed his hat, brushed it off on his coat sleeve, went to the closet, slid the door open, put his hat on the shelf from the exact position he had taken it from that morning, removed a hanger from the closet for his coat, then removed his coat, arranged it on the hanger, then brushed it before putting it in the closet. He then removed his shirt, folded it neatly, and put it in the dirty clothes hamper in the hall. He returned to the bedroom, the closet, took another hanger, of a different shape than the one he had used for his jacket, and then removed his trousers, made sure that the creases were aligned, then removed the hanger under them. He put that hanger in the closet also.

He then turned, sat in a chair and removed his shoes, then his socks. He took his socks to the same hamper into which his shirt had gone, then returned to the bedroom. He stood over the bed, dressed in his undershirt and briefs, and looked at Marly.

"Why are you in bed? In the middle of the afternoon? You've never done this before." He didn't wait for an answer, since she simply looked at him, but went instead to the other closet, opened it, then turned back to her with a startled look "Where are my clothes?" he demanded.

"I didn't put them out today. Find the ones you wore yesterday," Marly said, trying not to sound angry.

"I can't stand the same clothes two days in a row. You know that. Why are you in bed?" He turned to look at her again. "You wouldn't believe it, Justin," Marly said, then turned onto her side, away from him so that she would not have to look at him nor he at her.

"Well, if you're ill all you have to do is say so. I mean I come home after working all day and find you in bed and what am I supposed to think. Then, you haven't done anything, apparently, all day. My clothes aren't even ready. Do you plan to make dinner or do you intend to ruin our whole daily routine?" He finished with an injured tone to his voice.

Marly wanted to hurt him, suddenly, just for the hell of it. She felt like crying not from her own debasing experience with their neighbor, but for hers and Justin's hopeless situation, which, she had to admit, had only become hopeless within the period of the last two hours. She turned back over in bed, looking at him and said, "Justin, let's make love."

"You must have a fever, Marly. You mean now, this minute, I presume? This is only Tuesday. We do that on Thursday night, and not in the middle of the afternoon. I would appreciate it very much if you would get up, after I have found some clothes for myself, and prepare dinner. I don't care to eat after seven o'clock, as you very well know." He was indignant. He rummaged around, knocked hangers about the closet, then finally pulled on a pair of trousers, doffed a sweater, then carried his sneakers out of the room.

Marly sighed, then sat up in bed. She felt dizzy. She stood, after a couple of minutes, and the waves of dizziness assaulted her again. The coldness of the air, on her nipples, her bare buttocks, jarred her somewhat and she laughed. She started, on impulse, to call Justin into the bedroom, then changed her mind. He had never, she reflected, seen her nude so she might just jolt him into a heart attack. But, she reflected, biting her lower lip, she had never seen him totally nude either. She went to the bathroom, put a shower cap over her head, turned the faucet to hot, then adjusted the cold water until she got the mixture she wanted, then stepped into the shower. Hell, she thought, once her body was covered with soap and her hands sliding comfortingly over its slippery surface, I ought to be thankful for being raped, and I ought to have a husband who would be so wounded that he would kill the man that did it. But, she almost laughed to herself, I'm not and I don't.

She rinsed off the soap, then stepped out of the shower, and dried herself vigorously. She felt that she had some of her purity restored, just by getting the outside of herself clean. She returned to the bedroom and dressed. She was still experiencing a throbbing in her pussy, deep down, next to the center of her being.

She passed through the living room with hardly a glance at Justin. He was sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper, waiting - she knew - for her to prepare his glass of vegetable juice. She did so, then returned to him, placed it on the table next to his chair and stood there, looking at he top of his head. He nervously rustled the paper.

"What would you like for dinner, Justin?" she asked.

He acted as though he had been slapped. His head flew back, the paper was smashed on his lap and he looked at her with a startled expression. "Marly, I must say I don't understand you today. This is Tuesday. We will have what we have every Tuesday. I see no reason to change our menus just because you choose to sleep all day, do you?"

"We can't. I didn't do shopping today." She felt like hitting him. He had no idea what had happened to her, didn't even seem to care if anything had. She had never realized what a drag their very existence had become.

"Didn't go shopping today? Then we have nothing to eat, do we? I mean since we only eat fresh vegetables and fresh fruit, we must be out of luck." he glared at her.

"You only eat fresh fruits and vegetables. I don't really care that much. I'd like to go out to dinner. I'd like to have a large steak and drink before dinner, too. Wouldn't you?" She asked, knowing the answer before she put the question.

"I would not. I don't care to ruin the organic whole of me even if you do seem bent on self-destruction. Not for a minute. But, we could go to the living health store and dine since there is nothing here to eat. That is, if you wish. Is it too late to go shopping now?" He wanted to know.

"Perhaps not. I think the store stays open until nine, but I don't care to go to the store. Not today." She sat down in a chair opposite his.

He peered at her, then turned his head away and seemed to look at the wall. Then he turned back to her abruptly and in a slightly lower voice than shout, "Marly, I demand to know what's troubling you. I am your husband, you know, and I want to know. I come home and you're in bed and then you asked me if I wanted to make love on a Tuesday afternoon and you've done nothing by way of preparing dinner and... you don't look right. Now, what is the trouble?" He sat forward in his chair and eyed her suspiciously.

"Justin, are you satisfied with our sex life?" She asked, not realizing that she was going to say what she said before it was there between them.

Justin jumped from his chair, paced the floor, then with his back to her, said: "I am. We are married and we have what some people would call a normal sex life, I believe. At the least the normal people would call it such. You are not?" He questioned the wall.

"I don't know. I suppose so. I just... It was a stupid question. Forget it." She, too, stood and turned toward the kitchen.

"Marly," he said, softly, still to the wall, "If you'd really like to go out to dinner, we can, I suppose. I shouldn't try to stick too close to a schedule, I guess. It's easy for me but I know it gets on your nerves. Let's. Where would you like to go?"

"For a drink and a steak," she said, still facing away from him. "Perhaps to the Red Ox."

"Very well," he agreed, "But the money will have to come out of the household budget. I'll just have a salad so that should save some."

Marly turned and went to the bedroom. She dressed hurriedly, feeling that she had won a victory over him, wondering why she felt so depressed. She shook off the feeling, entered the bathroom, then called to him so that he could dress while she was in the bathroom making up her face.

Thirty minutes later they left the house and got into the car. Justin was permitting the car to warm up, even though he had been driving it only an hour or so before, when Peter drove into his own drive way. He jumped out of the car, waved a hand gaily in their general direction as though nothing at all had happened then entered his house. Marly felt her face grow warm, her whole body trembled. Before she could examine her feeling, Justin interrupted.

"He's quite a nice looking man, I hear that he is a very good attorney, also. I don't know why he would choose someone like her for a wife, she can't possibly help him get ahead." Justin mused, steering the car onto the street.

His wife didn't bother to answer. She wished that she could sort out her own feeling toward her attacker. Her sensation when she saw him was not an unpleasant one, but he had, damn him, that very afternoon, assaulted and raped her. She should hate him, she told herself, but she didn't. Instead she wondered if he would come back as he had promised.

"God, what would she do if he did? Would she fight and scream to protect her honor with a greater intensity than she had this afternoon? Or would she... Yes, she mused to herself at the broken thought... or would she? Perhaps, the slight trembling and gnawing sensation she had felt in her loins when he had waved at them a moment ago had given her the answer. But now... now wasn't the moment to think about it... that would all come in due time.

Marly enjoyed the dinner. She had consumed two drinks, much to Justin's consternation, then had eaten a delicious steak, blood rare. She felt great. She had admonished herself for looking at the men in the room, feeling each time she looked thoroughly at one of them (sitting alone at the bar, with other women, with men friends) the sensations that she had had earlier in the afternoon. She was just as pleased to leave the restaurant as she had been to arrive there.

Once home Marly tried to shake the feeling of need and desire that bunched up inside her demanding an outlet. She couldn't. While Justin had been showering for bed, she had wandered out to the patio, had looked in the direction of Peter's house, had tried to figure which bedroom might be his. Then she remembered his wife, she frowned and, in her own mind, agreed with her husband: how could he live with such a silly woman? She returned to the house, went to the bathroom, stopped in the bedroom and stifled a giggle when she realized that Justin was doing his deep breathing exercises, as he did every night, before going to sleep. She stripped in the bathroom, stood straight and looked at herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw. She was tall, five feet eight, she had nice large breasts that had not the slightest trace of a sag. She ran her hands over her breasts, lifted them so that the nipples, pink and soft, pointed straight into the mirror, then let them drop, ran her hands from her chest out over her breasts, to the end of the nipple, then down, under and across her stomach, marveled at the smoothness of it, then along the outside of her thighs. She stopped, shook herself, a need that had never been there before today rushing through her, and slipped her black negligee over her head. She gave her hair a couple of quick strokes, then returned to the bedroom. She stopped just inside the door and looked at Justin. She couldn't tell whether or not he was asleep because he often, as he explained, went to sleep in stages. She walked softly to his bed, circling her own, and lay down alongside him. He gave no indication that he was awake, that he knew she was there.

She carefully put her hand under the cover, let it rest gently on his stomach. He still made no move to indicate that he was aware of her presence. She started to massage his stomach, moving her hand across it back and in a circular motion and suddenly he sprang up to a sitting position, reached out, turned on the lamp. Marly was startled.

"Marly, what are you doing over here in my bed?" He wanted to know, scowling at her.

"I came to... I want you tonight, Justin." She leveled her large, hungry stare at him.

"This is Tuesday night! I just don't understand you, Marly. I broke up the entire schedule for the day and now you want to take it into the night, ruining our whole weeks' plans. I just don't understand." He was perplexed beyond doubt. "Don't try to understand. Let's just make love, Justin." She moved to him, put a hand behind his back. Justin sighed, turned out the light, then crawled on top of her. He lifted her negligee, took his penis out through the opening of his pajamas, then eased himself down to her so that his soft, fleshy prick was pressed against her warm, open vaginal slit. She moved slightly, put her hand on his back. He shook it off. She lay still, fear somehow almost paralyzing her that she would go crazy and give all that happened away and then he moved against her. She felt him begin to harden, and she wanted to kiss him, to be kissed, to have his tongue inside her mouth just as Peter's had been, but she dared not. She felt him enter her, easily, then push himself all the way in, then move in and out of her. She felt a rush of memories from the afternoon and before she realized what she was doing her legs went around his back, her arms circled his neck. He withdrew immediately. He was shocked, she knew.

"What are you trying to do?" he demanded of her, raised above her on his arms. "If you want me to make love to you, then lie still."

Marly did. She lay perfectly still, all desire gone, while he fucked in and out of her, not really touching her feelings again. She lay under him almost hating him, repulsion for his selfishness angering her. She knew that he was about to cum, not because he grabbed her and clung to her and pounded into her but simply because his breathing increased and his strokes became minutely faster. He withdrew from her almost as soon as his semen had flooded into her and got off the bed and went directly to the bathroom.

Marly lay as she was, heard the shower running, and laughed bitterly to herself. She knew that he was washing her dirt off himself. When she heard the shower stop she got up, went to her own bed. She feigned sleep when he re-entered the bedroom. She heard the springs give as he got into his bed, then the sounds of breathing (deep) that he made, then shortly a soft snore. For no reason at all tears sprung to her eyes. She cried silently.

As her tears of frustration trickled slowly down her cheeks she began to consciously, for the first time to analyze her life, to look back over it, examine it, hoping to find an answer for her immediate situation.

Her whole life had been spent in study, one school after the other, until graduation from college. She had developed, she thought, as all the other girls had and a darned site better than ninety percent of them. She was an only child, her parents did not believe in a display of affection. She marveled now that she could never remember seeing her parents kiss, really kiss, in front of her. Nor, had she ever seen her mother cry. Now she found that amazing.

She had grown up with Justin, had attended the same grammar school, the same high school, never having taken notice of him, until their third year of college. He had asked her out and she had accepted. She hadn't cared much for dating and was beginning to wonder about herself. She had had a good time with Justin and had ended the summer by announcing her engagement to him. She laughed now, bitterly, about their dates. He had never taken her out 'petting', had never tried to handle her as some of her one shot dates from college had done. She had appreciated that at the time, but now that she reflected upon it, she wondered about it. Why? Why hadn't he tried to make her, just as all the other boys had?

He respected her too much, she decided. That had to be it. After all, he had known her all his life, their parents had known each other, so it stood to reason that he wasn't going to come howling into his own neighborhood and rape his fiancée. No, not Justin.

Even her plans for and the wedding itself were without emotion. She had felt curious at the time about herself, why she wasn't like the other girls squealing and giggling and bragging about their future husband, their families, their potential income, and their love life. No, not her. She and Justin had planned the first five years of their marriage down to the last day months before they were married.

She hadn't felt love for him, not as she supposed that she was meant to feel, but she had wanted to be married to him, to share his life. That, she told herself, she was doing. What little living he did, that is. So she had to admit to herself that she was just as cold and calculating as he was or wasn't depending on how one viewed their situation. She didn't really suppose that he felt any different about her than she did about him.

It seemed ironic to Marly that the first two years of what she had come to call their 'five year plan' had come off rather smoothly. They had lived in the city in a cramped apartment for the first two years. Both of them had worked and saved their money, all of her checks going into the bank for a down payment on their home in Suburbia, and, Justin had done well with the firm, had entrenched himself, was on the ladder up. All just as they had planned. In six months he would plant the seed that would bring forth their child nine months after that. They would have another, but only one more, during the next five years, depending on Justin's advancement in the firm. The very coldness of it made her shiver. But, on the other hand, she was somehow upsetting the first five year plan. She almost laughed.

The following morning Marly went into the garden for her first cigarette of the day, but she stayed under the eyes of the house. She did not venture into the patio, did not inspect the plants, look at the rose buds nor notice the snails that crawled about. She found that she was extremely nervous, that all her instincts had somehow deserted her. She took a deep inhalation of smoke, slowly let it out, then breathed deeply. It did not help. She was still jumpy.

She went back to the kitchen, took her place at the table, put the toast in the toaster, then poured the coffee. Her husband came through the door as she was pouring his coffee. He took his seat across from her, then said, "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. I suppose so. Justin... I," she paused, unable to go on, not knowing what she wanted to say, or how she wanted to say it.

"You're still upset this morning. I don't understand it, Marly. What is it?" He seemed genuinely concerned.

"I don't know. I... I don't want to stay home today. I want to go somewhere, anywhere," she blurted.

"Marly," he said tiredly, "You're free to go anywhere you like but it isn't your day for shopping, not your day for the library, and I don't know where else you would want to go. Why don't you get to know your neighbors? We've been here for two months now and you still don't know anyone to talk to."

She wanted to laugh. She knew one neighbor very, very well, more than he would ever be able to believe, but she couldn't tell him that.

"There must be some clubs in the neighborhood for women. Where they sew or talk or read or something. Isn't there?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Marly, I want to tell you something. I have a surprise. I was going to tell you last night but... I didn't. Old man Callan is sending me to Chicago. I leave Friday and I'll be there until Wednesday of next week! How about that?" He smiled.

"That's wonderful, Justin. Am I going, also?" she looked across the table hopefully at him. Perhaps this would give her a few days away from this place and a chance to collect her scattered thoughts.

"No. As a junior executive, Marly, I'm very lucky to be getting the chance, the opportunity, to represent the company on such a big deal. I couldn't very well ask that they pay your way and your expenses, too." He seemed hurt she wasn't ecstatic over his good luck.

"But what will I do here?" she asked bitterly, almost crying. She wanted to tell him about Peter, almost started to, but she knew that as far as he was concerned the discussion was closed. He wouldn't consider her, not with such an unexpected bit of luck presenting itself. He didn't answer. She supposed that he already had, in a sense, by quizzing her about the clubs in the area. Damn him, if that's all he cared about then maybe he deserved having an unfaithful wife. Maybe he deserved everything he would get, or she would get, she mused wryly. As soon as Justin left for work Marly made a decision. She dressed and went to the store. She purchased a bottle of Gin, asked the clerk for a good bottle of Vermouth, and a bottle of small olives. Then she went to the grocery store, bought enough meat for sandwiches, then went home. She was nervous but determined.

At 12:20p she looked at the clock in the kitchen and almost cried. She couldn't remember what time he, Peter, had presented himself in the garden yesterday, but she felt certain that it had been before 12:20p. She drank a cup of coffee, walked about the living room, then the thought occurred to her that perhaps she should be out in the garden. No. She would never permit him to think, to know, that she was waiting for him, could not ever let him know that she was looking forward to seeing him again. How then, she wondered, was she to explain the pitcher of martinis? The prepared sandwiches? She felt as though she were losing her mind. She went to the kitchen, poured herself a martini and drank it straight down.

At five minutes of one, Marly was drunk. She had consumed three martinis and had cried and had washed her face and had applied make-up and had settled down with another martini. Then she heard her name called, softly, from the door leading to the patio. She sprung up from the chair, weaved slightly, then made herself stand still. She would not, she insisted, show how eager she was. She walked slowly to the door and looked at him, standing there, smiling, waiting for her. That was all it took.

Marly hurriedly opened the door and fell into his waiting arms. She clung to him, found his mouth with hers, and kissed him long and passionately. She felt him lift her off her feet, move back into the kitchen with her. His hands familiarly sought the soft mounds of her buttocks and pulled her toward him, into him. They kissed for what seemed like seconds for Marly but was actually five minutes. She was crying with joy when he lifted her away from him.

"Where's my martini?" He wanted to know, smiling his arrogant smile at her eagerness. But now, with the weight of the martini's lying heavy in her mind and the bitter thought of her husband's maddening disinterest in her welfare still ringing in her ears, his arrogance over his seduction of her didn't seem to matter quite so much. She was using him this time as much as he had used her before and the forbidden thought of committing adultery with another man right in her own husband's bed strangely frightened and yet excited her at the same time. It was going to be a big step in her life to do it voluntarily this way and a gnawing sense of hesitation pervaded her alcohol dazed mind. She knew once it started, there would be no turning back and she would be completely at the mercy of the whims of her body. But... she also knew that even now it was too late. The lewd, but exciting thought of again, this time from desire, of opening her legs to her neighbor's husband, had driven her beyond the point of any resistance to his advances.

She stifled a sniffle, went to the refrigerator and took the pitcher of martinis from it. She poured him one, put an olive in it and watched his hands as he took it from her. He sipped, smacked his lips, widened his eyes, and said,

"Perfect."

Between kisses and using his hands on her buttocks and breasts, Peter consumed that martini and asked for another. He drank that rather rapidly in the same manner, then calmly placed the glass on the table next to the couch and said, huskily, as though commanding a prostitute:

"Let's go to the bedroom."

"I made some sandwiches," Marly said, softly, hoping that he would take time to eat them now and give her a chance to collect her thoughts. Perhaps even a chance to back away from this horrible thing she was about to do. But, his answer gave her no respite from the decision she had made in anger earlier in the day.

"We can eat those after," he said, lifting her off the couch and guiding her to the bedroom. "Undress me and kiss me." he told her just inside the door, pressing his lips against her nose.

She did as she was told, knowing there was no backing down now. She removed his jacket, then mashed herself against him, probing gently into his mouth with her tongue. Then she removed his tie, and he awarded her with a searing kiss of a longer duration than hers had been. She started to unbutton his shirt but he guided her hands to his trousers. She was nervous and fumbling, but she managed to unbuckle the belt, then the zipper, then she moved his trousers down his leg. She blushed when she remembered his shoes and that they would have to come off before his trousers. She followed as he dropped back in to a chair and dropped to her knees and undid his shoe laces, then removed his shoes, receiving a kiss for each one. Then she dragged his trousers off his leg, started to fold them, but he motioned for them, took them out of her hand and threw them across the stool of her dressing table. He stood, kissed her and pressed his hardening penis into her stomach. She started to unbutton his shirt, but he pushed her hands down to his jock shorts. She blushed again, feeling suddenly more wicked than she ever had in her whole life, and put her hands around the waist band of his shorts and slipped them over his hips. She had to bend to take them off his legs, from under his feet and her eyes locked involuntarily on his mammoth cock, hanging as it had yesterday from under his shirt, straight down, the head of it purple and huge.

"Kiss it," he told her, putting his hand on top of her head. She did, after a slight moment's hesitation. But barely touching it with the soft wetness of her lips. He laughed, pulled her up in his arms and said, "You're innocent. And very, very nice. Take off my shirt."

She was so nervous that she thought she would never get all the buttons undone and the French cuffs gave her a lot of trouble. She made it, however, and slipped his shirt off his back. Then she took the bottom of his undershirt and raised up over his broad shoulders, then over his head, then flung it over her head and fell into him. He took her in his arms, moved his hands to her buttocks, massaged and squeezed her soft, pliant mounds, and kissed her totally with his lips, his tongue and his teeth. She felt faint, her desire for him overpowering her, making her legs weak and her stomach tingle.

Then he broke away from her embrace and began to undress her, tossing her clothes in a heap, biting her breasts as he permitted one to spring free, then the other, then dropping to his knees and gently removing her panties, kissing her stomach, her pubic hair and nibbling hungrily at her thighs.

Marly was in a quandary. She was trying to examine her own emotions, her complete abandon of herself to the pleasure of sex, her lack of moral convictions, that she should be thinking about, the building fires, pin point sharp, that were bursting within her, driving her crazy. She had never wanted anything, anytime, anymore than she wanted Peter now. She could hardly breathe.

He gently laid her on the bed then moved her dressing table so that it was at the direct foot of the bed, then tilted the mirror so that she could see herself, from head to foot, reflecting in the glass. He eased himself onto the bed, so that he was laying on her stomach and lowered his head to her full ripe F-cup breasts. He kissed first one, then the other, then licked one from her chest to its very end and sunk his mouth over and onto her nipple. Marly involuntarily rose up, pushed her breasts up, toward him. He sucked with his strong tongue, then teased her nipple with his teeth until it hardened, sprang into life all by itself. Then he moved to the other, repeated the same with it.

Marly lay under him, her hands rubbing his back and shoulders and his head, her fingers in his hair, pressing his head down into the softness of her naked body. She felt that she was alive in every cell of her being from the tip of her toes to the very top of her head. She glanced into the mirror and saw the two of them reflected there, he feeding on her, her moving and groaning under him, feeling as she was certain an actress must feel before the cameras of a dirty movie.

He put his mouth over hers, cupped her breasts with his hands and massaged and squeezed, and probed her mouth with his tongue, mixing his saliva with her, then drawing it out of her, then probing back into her throat, in and out like a slippery, wet serpent.

Marly wanted to consume him, all of him, through her mouth. She felt her lips burn, her tongue was beginning to get sore and enlarged, and she gasped desperately for breaths of air. He stopped kissing her, rolled over on his back, and pulled her on top of him, sideways as he had been on her. She put her mouth on his, probed his lips with her tongue until they parted.

He bit her lips. She drew back, startled, and he raised her by the shoulders and moved her so that her breast was over his mouth, then he sucked it in, worked over the hardened nipple with his lips and tongue and then his teeth until she cried out from pain, then moved her again so that the other breast hung over his face. She got the same treatment on that one, then he lifted her again so that her mouth was on his.

He moved his hands down the smoothness of her back and rubbed her hips where the soft white curves started, then over the roundness of them between her legs, then tentatively softly parted the soft, sparse pubic hair and worked his finger into her soft-lipped cunt and teased the tip of his thumb lightly against the rubbery tissue of her ass.

Marly moaned softly up into his mouth, feeling every movement of his hands over her and about her and opened her legs slightly to feel the finger moving into her wetness and probing, gently, deeper, the warm, moist walls giving to permit the object inside her without pain. She was surprised when he slowly wormed his thumb into her ass, felt the sharpness of the pain which she found endurable and enjoyable and sucked and bit his tongue, worked herself into a frenzy there on him, her moving hips doing the love making. Then, with his probing fingers in both her openings, she started rotating her hips, grinding down on his hands, all her sensations rushing over the sensitive flesh of her naked body. She knew that she was going to have an orgasm, a small, delicious, tiny one that would lead the way to a greater and more cataclysmic one later when he had crawled between her open thighs and fucked her the way her husband never could.

He took her hand in his and guided it to his throbbing prick. Marly felt the hardness that her hand could never completely encompass, and another thrill went through her, surging from her hand to her breasts to her contracting vaginal walls, wave after wave of it, rippling salaciously against her insides. She tried to move onto him, wanted to guide the pulsating hardness of his eleven-inch prick into her pussy, but he wouldn't permit it.

He moved her head away from his, then toward his chest. She nibbled at his nipples, which were so very strange, so different from her own prominent ones, so much so that they almost weren't there, then he moved her head down his stomach, and taking a handful of hair, lifted her head and gently levered her mouth to the head of his prick.

She looked into the mirror and saw the monster of pleasure standing tall and excited under her mouth, and she cried out, "No!" before he shoved her head down, filling her mouth full with the wonder of his hard pulsating flesh. But, it was too new, too fast, and she lifted her head, eased the head of his cock from her mouth, and he understood and moved her back alongside him. He kissed her mouth, then her breasts, then moving down her body, her stomach, and spread her legs, kissed and bit her thighs until she thought she would be consumed by the flames of her own burning self. He slowly but surely spread her cuntal lips with his fingers and probed the soft hair-lined pinkness of her pussy with his tongue. He moved the clit back, then forward, then shoved his tongue into her, causing her to buck upwards, grinding the wetness of her naked loins towards his face. He stopped, abruptly, and crawled up on top of her.

She was half wild with desire and lust now and clawed into his back, bit his lips, sucked his tongue then pleaded, "Please, Peter, Now!"

"Now what?" he asked, breathing hotly into the hollow of her neck.

"Do it to me," she begged, grinding her hips in lewd invitation beneath him.

"Do what to you?" he teased, delighting in her agony.

"Take me, Peter, please darling." She implored, clasping his buttocks in her hands and trying to pull him into her.

"That's not what you mean, Marly. Say what you mean," he whispered moving gently and pressing his hardened penis into her stomach.

"Please! Please, Peter!"

"Say it, baby, just say it and its yours," he repeated, still pressing his hardened cock into her stomach, the secreting seminal fluid rubbing wetly into her flesh. "Ask me to fuck you."

"Oh, yes, please, Peter. Do it... please!" she moaned under him, moving, wanting him inside her more than she could ever have believed that she would want anything.

"Then ask me. Ask me to fuck you," he teased again, bearing down and flexing his hardness into her stomach.

"Fuc... do it... ah... fuck... fuck me, please, darling," she moaned rising to meet his every movement.

"Keep saying it, baby," Peter demanded, raising his hips slightly and moving down so that he was pressed tight between her open legs.

Marly groaned as she felt the huge head of his prick touch her soft eager cunt lips and tried to spread her thighs wider to suck it in to her but he cruelly pulled back. "Say it, Marly, beg me, baby."

"Fuck me! Please! Fuck... ahh...!" She felt the pulsating head sliding wetly into her cunt, barely, and again she tried to move up, to swallow it all the way in her but again he drew back, letting her have only what he wished her to have. She couldn't stand it. She had to have him in her, all the way, all at once!

"FUCK ME!" she screamed, clawing at his back. She was awarded with more of him, but not enough. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK ME!" she pleaded until all of him was there, wedged into her, all of her filled and the bigness of the head of his prick pushed deep up in her burning belly.

She ground against him and came almost immediately, in sudden jolting explosions, her orgiastic secretions flowing out against him, bursting around the large pistoning head of his prick.

"Oooooh, Mmmmm, Aaaaaaah, darling, I'm... I'm cumming, God, I'm cummmmming," she groaned out her orgasm and then relaxed, exhaustion replacing the bursting dam inside her.

Her neighbor stilled his thrust and waited until he could feel the contracting walls of her cunt slowly throb to a halt and then began to move again, out, then slowly in, the sensations of his hard prick against the walls of her pussy slowly exciting her again, until suddenly she was responding once more, with him, her fingers dug into his buttocks, slamming him into her with all her might and slapping into the flesh of his stomach with her own.

She felt a change within him as she labored beneath him, a growing and quickened throbbing of his deep implanted prick and then her own feeling surged within herself. Peter took her legs in his arms and bent her knees back over her shoulders and her attention was arrested by their obscene reflection in the mirror.

She gasped at the pink flanges, the hair-lined tightness of the soft protective folds of flesh around her cunt, drawing back with each out stroke and being pushed in again as Peter thrust forward into her with the hammer-like rhythm he had begun.

She moved under him, wanting all of it deep within her, and gasped when he shoved further into her; she had thought that there was no greater depth of her than he had already reached. She watched his pistoning cock, sinking wet and glistening, deep into the tight, clasping lips of her pussy as often as she could, and clutched and screamed and cried under his power, and felt him impale her solidly, and he raised his head slightly and shoved into her and started short quick strokes that brought her to another climax along with him and he shrieked and she moaned and then he rested on top of her, his cock still imbedded within her, hard as ever, filling her, the hot juices spewed from it oozing out warmly and thickly against the walls of her pussy, squeezing over each ridge of her. She rubbed his back and fingered his hair and studied his muscular buttocks with her legs locked around them in the mirror. She had never felt so good in her life, she told herself, so she closed her eyes and enjoyed to the fullest her every adulterous sensation, her belly filled with the warm wet sperm of his satisfaction. She opened her eyes again and looked at him as he started to withdraw from her. He smiled into her face, then his prick slipped moistly out of her cunt with a wet, sucking sound and he raised himself slightly and placed it on her stomach and then lay on top of it, on top of her, and moved his hands under her head and kissed her gently, lazily, and rested his head alongside hers.

"Come to a party this weekend?" He asked quietly into her ear after the gasps of his orgasm had subsided.

"Justin will be out of town," she answered, just as contentedly as he had asked.

"Good. Then I'll have you all to myself. Just us." He put his hand on her breast and took her nipple between his thumb and index finger.

"What about your wife?" She asked hesitantly, her hand stroking his neck.

"She'll be there. But, don't worry about her. She's quite popular herself. She wanted Justin to be there, too, though."

"What?" Marly demanded, raising her head slightly. "Vivian knows Justin?"

"No, I don't think so. She's seen him though and wanted me to invite the two of you. She likes him."

"I don't understand," she stammered, "You mean that she... wants Justin?" Marly was confused. She had never thought about another woman lusting after Justin. It seemed impossible to her. Considering what a man Peter was and the fact that he was Vivian's husband made it absolutely ridiculous. She couldn't hold back a slight giggle at the thought.

"What are you laughing about?" Peter asked, studying her closely.

"Why, that's ludicrous. Really. I just can't imagine Justin doing anything like this..."

"Fucking?" Peter supplied the word.

"... Fucking with her. Or anyone, really. It's funny."

"Doesn't he fuck you?" Peter asked bluntly.

"Well... yes." Marly felt strange talking to him about she and Justin. "But not like this. I mean... well, differently."

"I didn't know there was any other way," Peter laughed and put his hand on the side of her soft white breast.

"He does it to me this way... but, well, not with the same feeling. He's very different than you, Peter. Much more conservative, I guess. He's quiet." She was unable to describe her husband, did not want to put it into words that sounded like betrayal to her, of just how and when they had sex relations.

"Do you love him, Marly?" Peter asked.

"Of course I do. Certainly." She answered, as much for her own benefit as for his.

"But he doesn't make you happy in bed." He put his hand over her mouth, and then continued. "Marly, you've been married two years and you have a bedroom with two beds in it. Now. I know that you must use one and he the other. Right?"

She moved her head up and down to indicate that he was right. "That doesn't take much figuring, Baby. You're turned on to sex so apparently he isn't. But, we'll all work together and we'll fix everything up. You'll have to join the neighborhood club." He finished speaking, got off the bed and began dressing. He left without telling her anymore.

Later, she could have kicked herself for not asking Peter what he had meant by the neighborhood club, but she hadn't. She worried about it, thought about it, but couldn't think of anyway to contact him to find out. He hadn't told her that he would see her the next day or when he would tell her more about the party that she had decided to attend. She called herself a fool and let other worries take control of her mind.

She managed to find a safe hiding place for the gin and vermouth she had purchased for her and Peter before Justin arrived home, on the exact minute of the very hour that he had made it the day before and the day before that. She had washed the glasses they had used, made the bed, put the dressing table back into position, and sprayed all the rooms with Lysol spray, taking no chances on Justin smelling the faintest whiff of gin or cigarette smoke. She hadn't been able to bring herself to ask Peter not to smoke in her house. That would have taken too much explanation.

"Hello, Darling," Justin said, walking through the door. He removed his hat, then sat his briefcase carefully on the floor. Marly went to him, stood on tip-toe and kissed him on the lips, slightly and momentarily. Nevertheless, it seemed to shake him up. He looked at her strangely, then walked past her to the bedroom. She could hear him making noises as he put his clothes away, carefully as always, and heard him grunt with pleasure to find his clothes for changing into where he expected them to be, but where they had not been yesterday. When he returned to the living room and sat in his chair and reached for the paper, Marly had his vegetable juice ready and announced proudly that dinner would be on time tonight, as usual.

"Good," he sighed, happy that his home had returned to normal. He rattled the paper.

Across the table from her, over the bowl of spinach soufflé, the boiled Swiss chard and the tiny boiled onions, above the stone ground black bread and ginger root, Justin pronounced her name. "Marly, I have a surprise for you. You may go with me to Chicago if you wish. I think we can manage it."

Marly was startled. She wondered immediately it he had suspected something, had seen something in the house that she had failed to arrange before he got home that told him a man had been there. She looked at him, amazed, and couldn't answer what had almost amounted to a question on his part.

He didn't wait for her to answer, however, but continued, saying, "We could take the money out of the savings and you could get a small job that you could do in the house, while I'm away in the daytime, and put it back. I really don't want you to stay here alone, anyway. Particularly if you don't want to." He smiled at her.

"Oh, Justin, that wasn't me talking this morning, really. I don't mind staying here alone. After all, it's your job and I guess I was just a little jealous and you'll be working all the time and... no, no, I'd really just prefer to stay here." She knew that her face was red and wished to hell that it wasn't, hoped that he would not suspect her of anything. Now she wanted to go to the party that Peter had mentioned, though none of it would have happened if Justin had offered to take her yesterday, she had no intention of anything interfering with that wish.

Justin was easily put off. "I think that is the wisest choice, Marly. I mean we agreed never to touch our savings and all, but I worried about you all day and thought that I might be being a little selfish." Then I had that idea. But, if you think it'll be all right maybe we should just leave it as it stands and I'll only be gone four days anyway."

"It's much better that way, Justin. Much. I'll be all right. Really. Maybe there'll be a party in the neighborhood or something one night." She stopped herself, afraid it might raise his suspicions.

"That would be nice. Darling, did you get my clothes packed today?" He asked, peering across the table at her.

"No, Justin, I didn't. You're not leaving until Friday morning and they'll be ready. Don't worry about it." She did not speak again during the meal, nor did he.

Marly drove Justin to the office Friday morning. As she was pulling into the drive way, having deposited Justin at his office, Peter came out of his house and stood and smiled at her. He walked across the lawn, jumped over the small hedge, and yanked open the door on the passenger side of the car. "Hello beautiful," he said, flashing her a cocky, winning smile.

"Not so loud, people will hear you," Marly said, trying not to smile back at him, not wanting her desire of him to show through her exterior.

"One always always speaks to be heard by somebody. Right? Look, the party starts tonight at eight. Why don't you come over to dinner with Vivian and me? You don't want to eat alone, do you?"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing at first. Did he really expect her to sit at the same table with his wife and eat and be aware of her and the food she had cooked and try to carry on a conversation after what had happened between her and Peter? She thought that he must surely be joking. "You're kidding?"

"Not at all. Vivian will see you today about it. I gotta run. Must be in court at ten. Bye Love," he said, slamming her car door and moving toward his own garage. She wanted desperately to call him back and talk to him, get a couple of answers, but she couldn't. What neighbor might be listening, watching her? She drove the car into the garage and got out as quickly as possible and went into the safety of her home. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the breakfast table to drink it. The telephone rang. She almost jumped out of her skin, spilling the coffee in the process. She picked up the instrument and said, dully, "Hello."

The voice on the phone came to her in a rush, seeming to fill her whole head with a loud roar. "Hello, Marly - if I may call you that - I'm Vivian, Mrs. Aiken from next door. I saw Peter talking to you in the drive way and," Marly gasped, an instant vision of her whole world falling in on her, clouding her mind, then stammered without making sound and then listened as the voice continued, "I'm sure he told you about dinner tonight. So, I'll expect you about seven-thirty and we'll have an early dinner and the other guests will start arriving about nine but that gives us time for a drink and a little talk and I have to do a great deal today because I have a meeting with the League of Women Voters in half an hour and I must rush now. See you tonight." The voice stopped as suddenly as it had started. Marly stood several minutes with the instrument still in her hand, then slowly replaced it. She was stunned. The woman sounded over the phone just as she did in the yard, talking and never stopping and making everything into one sentence. She poured herself another cup of coffee and drank it slowly, along with smoking a cigarette - she could get the odor out of the house before Justin returned - and wondered about the coming party.

She dressed carefully for the party. She had luxuriated in a bath for over an hour, had shaved her legs carefully and under her arms, and had creamed her face and made it up very carefully. She decided at the last minute not to wear a girdle, giggling to herself as she made the decision, even though her black, clinging dress did look better with one. She made herself one small martini just to steady her nerves and sat, listening to the stereo, and drank it and inhaled deeply of her cigarette. She was looking forward eagerly to the party, if not to the dinner. She needed courage, she felt, to face her neighbor's wife after all that had happened and his candid admission that she knew all about it.

At seven thirty-five she presented herself at the door of Peter's house. Much to her surprise he answered the door, took her hand and tenderly led her inside. "Our guest has arrived, Vivian, and she is the picture of loveliness," he called over his shoulder, then bent and kissed her hard on the month. Marly drew back as though he had slapped her. She saw Vivian standing in the doorway, her arms extended. "You're quite right, Peter, she is lovely. Come in, Dear, come in. What have you been doing all day besides making yourself lovely for us Peter get her a drink quickly and let's go in here I'm taking her away from you Peter if you're not going to join us in the kitchen and sit here, Marly, you are beautiful." She ran down or stopped of her own accord and her eyes took in the whole of Marly, her stately figure, her large firm breasts and her flat stomach and her long, slim legs. She shook her head and turned and went to the stove.

Peter came through the door, smiling, and winked at her, put a martini in her hand, then sat down beside her. He put his arm behind her back and then over her arm and pulled her to him. Marly was sure he was crazy. He kissed her right there, in front of his wife who had her back turned to them but who could and did turn around in time to see him kiss her.

"What... what on earth?" she stammered, trying to meet the eyes of Vivian. She felt as though she could crawl through a one inch hole in the floor if there happened to be one.

"Peter, don't be naughty and embarrass her and muss up her clothes and we haven't even had one drink yet to say nothing of dinner don't mind him, Marly, he's always the same but you should have worn coveralls if you didn't want him pawing at you all evening he's that way you horny old man you let's all go into the other room until the dinner is ready."

Vivian led the way, taking them through the dining room, where Peter grasped Marly's buttock provocatively in his hand, in to the living room and they all sat. Peter put on a record and Vivian was still completing a sentence that had started fifty thoughts ago when she somehow announced dinner. They went into the dining room, Marly almost physically ill from the talk and the drink and the tenseness from being close to Peter in his own house with his wife there. She asked where the daughter was.

"She's at my mother's I had to take her there after school and then rush around to the store and buy all the food for dinner frozen though it was it wasn't bad and get home and prepare everything for the party and now if you'll excuse me I have to go change clothes and Peter be nice." Vivian was half-way up the stairs by the time they heard the last of her voice, but she started talking again before she disappeared through a door at the top of the stairs.

Peter smiled at Marly, made a gesture that indicated how hopeless it was to listen to Vivian or to try to answer her. He enveloped Marly in his arms, drew her body to his and kissed her tenderly. Marly stood as he took her, arms hanging down the side of her body, stiff, her mind in circles and images of Vivian catching the two of them, there, in her own house with her husband kissing her. She drew away.

"What's the matter, darling?" Peter asked in all innocence.

"Peter, you must be crazy, doing that here with your wife upstairs." Marly said nervously. "What if she should see you... us, like that?" She put a cigarette in her mouth and Peter leaned forward to light it for her.

"Dear girl, she doesn't care. I thought that I had explained..." he began, but his words were chopped off by the ringing of the door bell. He went to the door, Marly straightened her skirt, ran a hand through her hair and sat very straight on her chair. Marly looked up as they entered and saw one of the most striking couples she had ever in her life seen. The woman was tall, almost six feet Marly would have guessed, every part of her body was well proportioned, her hair was raven black, her eyes green and her complexion as white and unblemished as a baby's skin. Her husband was her opposite, blond, taller than his wife, blue eyed, broad shouldered and handsome. He spoke not to Marly directly, but around her, saying to Peter but looking at her, "What a lovely woman, Peter. I know not how you do it." He spoke with an accent, not a heavy one, and Marly noticed immediately that he was an educated European, of what origin she had no idea.

She turned her attention from him, momentarily, and saw Peter in a passionate embrace with the beautiful woman. She gasped, anger rising in her. Peter released the woman, removed his hands from her buttocks, and introduced them to Marly: "Darling, this is Hans and Anna Shiller. And this is our neighbor, Marly." He smiled, looking down at Marly, but she couldn't meet his eyes.

Hans dropped into the chair next to her and asked her about herself, then wanted to know if her husband were there, or would he be there later on. "No," Marly had answered, then had started to explain that he was out of town for the weekend and would not return until Tuesday. She was interrupted by the arrival of guests, all couples, and the introductions that followed. Everyone seemed to know each other, intimately. They all kissed, ran their hands over buttocks and pulled another person to them, against them, both the men and the women. Marly tried to accept their actions in her own mind, tried not to see anything wrong with the friendliness they apparently felt for each other. She reminded herself that she and Justin had not been hitting the social circuit for a long while, since their marriage, and that maybe, in the short span of two years, things were changing. Hans interrupted her thoughts.

"I am glad to find you the extra women. It is wonderful. You are as lovely as Peter said you were." He looked levelly into her eyes, sending goose bumps over her bare arms and back. She started to answer him, but he continued, "Peter and I, we shall be together tonight. We will not permit hurt to you. You shall see." He smiled, then stood and walked away from her.

Marly was introduced to one medical doctor and his wife; another lawyer and his wife, a couple of business men and their wives, people in all walks of life, the professional ones, the smart and well-dressed and intelligent and moneyed people. She began to relax, feeling that she was getting a firm foot inside the society of her neighborhood, that Justin would be proud of her and delighted with the party when she told him about it. She had had her glass refilled several times and began to feel a little light headed by the time Vivian descended the stairs, her voice floating above the crowd in the room, in a steady stream, all the way to the bottom of the stairwell. There, she began to kiss on the lips, every man and woman in the room. Marly was simply shocked. She finished her fifth drink and watched the hostess. It suddenly occurring to her that Vivian had a good five years on Peter. That thought sent her in search of another drink as through her alcoholic haze she could hear the older woman's voice resounding monotonously through the room.

"All names are in the hat if everyone is here by now and looking around I'm sure they are but we are going to stick to our normal policy and the host is Peter and he's to be with the new member and all of you know how Hans and Peter are inseparable and," she continued, not bothered at all by the jovial laugh and comments from the rest of the guests, "So they will see to that end of the affair if the rest of us will just draw and the numbers are of course as we discussed last meeting so the ten evens will be with the ten odds and the twenty evens with the twenty odds and those with the decimal will of course be more than two, especially for Ben who insisted on two women..."

Marly heard only part of what she said, having returned from the kitchen with a full glass and she didn't even listen to the part. She couldn't believe that a woman or a man for that matter, could ever talk as much and say so little as Vivian did. She looked for Peter and saw him coming toward her and smiled her bravest smile.

Peter dropped onto the arm of her chair, put his hand over her shoulder, then bent and kissed her on the mouth. Marly was shocked, or surprised, but the bluntness of her mind snapping was lessened by the alcohol. Peter spoke to her, softly, saying "Let's find Hans and go over to your house."

"Hans?" She questioned.

"Yes. Come on," he said forcefully as though she had no choice and pulled her up from her seat, put his arm around her waist, and they set off through the kitchen. There Hans was engaged with a woman not his wife, a beautiful blonde, his arm around her, talking in his continental way. Peter laughed and said, "Grab a bottle and come along." He then guided Marly through the door, across the patio, and to her own yard.

"Peter," she pleaded, holding back so that he was almost dragging her, "What is this? Why did you ask Hans to come? I don't understand."

"I'll explain it to you, Marly. Don't you trust me? Don't you like Hans? He's wild. We work well together, don't we?" He spoke to Hans who had joined them and was walking on the opposite side of Marly.

"Well... I... I don't know, Peter," she started, but he closed her mouth with his own, caught both of her soft breasts of white flesh in his hands and pulled her to him. He kissed her long and hard, rubbed himself against her, put his tongue in her mouth and bit her lips. He released her and they continued on into the house.

She stopped just inside, her mind a turmoil of jumbled thoughts, mixed with her own desires that almost were overpowering her, and looked at the cupboard where the glasses were kept. Hans followed her gaze with his own, said, "Permit me," and opened the cupboard and set three glasses on the counter, then filled them to the brim with liquor. He raised his glass, after putting one in each of their hands, "To a good time by all," he smiled. Marly drank, the fiery liquid burning her throat and tried to smile.

When she looked around to smile at Peter he was no longer there. The thought occurred to her that he had probably stepped into the bathroom. She was surprised to find herself in Hans' arms, his mouth pressed to hers. She tried to move away, but he held her firmly, and kissed her deliciously, causing her body to tingle and taunt her. She felt his hands glide familiarly down her back, so she pushed him angrily away, then leaned back against the counter and put her hand to her forehead. She couldn't understand what was wrong with her, how she could be making love to one man - or at least letting him kiss her - while another that she had cheated with, had been unfaithful to her husband with, was alone with them in her own house. She shook her head to clear it, felt familiar arms encircling her. She lifted her face, tears streaming down it, to Peter.

Peter took her gently in his arms, put her head on his shoulder, rubbed his hand over her back, and talked to her, "It'll be all right, Marly, it will. You'll see. I didn't mean to frighten you, you're beautiful, such lovely hair and eyes and figure. "Come," he told her, moving her toward the bedroom. Marly realized with a jolt that Peter was nude. He hadn't been in the bathroom, then, but in the bedroom undressing! She started to resist, to complain, then decided not to, to let herself be taken by him, to be loved and wanted. She stopped short just inside the bedroom door and her eyes widened in surprise.

The furniture had been arranged as Peter had placed it the last time he was there except that Justin's bed had been pulled next to hers. And, the shock of shocks, Hans was sitting on the now double bed, naked, drinking and smiling at her. She couldn't believe it. Nor could she resist looking at him, the hugeness of him, the beauty of his face, his slightly crooked smile and his lock of blond hair hanging over his forehead.

She felt dizzy, almost faint, from the liquor she had consumed, the craziness of the party that had been unlike any party she had even attended. The whole thing seemed like a weird but pleasant nightmare to her.

Peter took her solidly in his arms again, unzipped her dress down the back, put his hand inside the dress and over her softness, then down to her soft white buttocks, and pulled her to him and kissed her long and hard. She couldn't resist. Her body slumped against his; she felt the fullness of his sex against her. She moaned softly when he squeezed her buttocks. Peter slipped her dress off her shoulders, his mouth on hers all the time, his tongue probing deep within her. He moved her arms from around his neck and moved her slip straps over her shoulders, letting that slide to the floor on top of her dress. Then he unsnapped her bra, then kissed her breasts as he slowly removed it.

Marly had forgotten about Hans. She glanced at the bed, saw him sitting there as she had first seen him. She gave a start and tried to cover her breasts with her arm. Peter would have none of that. He took her arm and gently moved it from her breasts, then said with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Look at this, Hans. Beautiful, aren't they?"

Hans ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes sparkled and he replied, "They are that, Marly", giving a musical tone to her name. She noticed his rampant hardness being stroked lovingly between his own fingers and suddenly felt like a helpless maiden being offered up for sacrifice to these two virile naked men. And then, before she could react, before any thought could be formed in her mind, Peter had rid her of her panties and her shoes. She stood stark naked before the two nude men. Peter gently laid her on the bed, between himself and Hans, and turned sideways and put his mouth over hers.

Marly couldn't believe that such a thing was happening to her. She tried to be rational, tried to get her thoughts sorted out to figure out just what kind of compromise she had let herself in for. It was impossible. She felt hopelessly entrapped by her feelings for Peter, and he was there and he was kissing her and she was enjoying it. She didn't think at all about Hans, had forgotten that he was there, in bed with her and Peter, until she suddenly felt a strange set of lips on her breasts. She jumped, and Hans withdrew his mouth from her, then she was encouraged by Peter, murmuring into her ear, "Marly, trust me. Please," then moving his mouth back to hers. Again she felt the warm wetness of Hans' mouth on her breasts, the heat and strength of Peter's tongue in her own mouth, and groaned out her helplessness to resist their magic torment, or tried to. She put one hand on Peter's head, on the back of it, and rubbed. She could feel her breasts responding to the expert kissing by Hans. Feeling rushed there, she could tell that her nipples were beginning to harden, and her other hand went to the back of his head. Fire suddenly shot through her, from her mouth to her breasts to her loins and she pressed her thighs tightly together to try and quench the rising feeling of desire there between her legs.

Hans began to kiss her stomach, then above her soft pubic hair and strange hands were opening her legs, gently but firmly. She felt as though she were going to burn up, that from the inside the fires of her could consume the totality of her. She groaned when Peter squeezed her breasts, then withdrew his mouth from hers and kissed them, those two surging, perfectly shaped, pink topped breasts.

Hans spread her legs, gently, kissing her body softly and using his tongue and teeth to excite the deeper nerves, and then moved his mouth to the slight hair-lined lips of her pussy, felt with his tongue the soft flanges of her pussy. She groaned lasciviously under him, wriggled her hips slightly. He took his thumbs and pressed her pussy apart so the secret cavern opened and the soft inner flesh came into view. It was pink and soft and secreted moisture, glistening and wet, appeared on the soft inner flesh of her thighs. He breathed into her and she groaned again, twisting her head from side to side on the softness of her husband's pillow.

He moved his mouth forward, his tongue feeling a passage for the rest of him, around her cuntal lips, into her softness, then pushed his face against the wetness of her vaginal slit. He felt her move to him, toward his face, and his tongue pushed into her open, waiting cunt. He felt weak from the pleasure her surrender gave him; the freshness of her, the pleasing female odor of her cunt. He breathed her up into his nostrils, plunging his tongue deep into her and she moaned and moved her naked loins more forcefully toward him. He moved his tongue within her, nipping at the tender flanges of flesh with his teeth between the thrusting in and out of his tongue, and soon he heard a soft moan building within her, then she violently flung herself upward, and screamed, "Ooooh, Ooooh," and ground her buttocks into the mattress and he probed deeper and deeper into her.

He stopped his probing, withdrew his lashing tongue and found the throbbing, hard clit and licked. Marly was going wild with pleasure under him, moving her hips in ever more violent motions, pushing her tongue into Peter's mouth and her breasts upwards to his face when he was alternately kissing and squeezing her there. She could never stop or turn aside the passion in her body at that moment. She squirmed and twisted and turned and threw herself at their hot, hungry searching mouths and tongues. She felt the dam within her building for the break that was certain to come, and quickly. She wanted it to, tried to help it by her movements. She was thwarted, however. Peter and Hans changed places, slipping and sliding along her body, one on each side, and the newness of Han's lips on her was the next sensation she had, then the hands of Peter on her pussy, a gentle probing with his fingers, then his teeth along her inner thigh, and she quivered with pleasure and gratitude and anticipation.

She liked Hans, liked the feel of his tongue in her mouth, the soft caressing of her breasts from his hands. She ran her own hands over the hard, taut muscles of his back, then to the back of his head and pulled him into her, took his tongue fully into her mouth, and sucked it, slowly, then more violently. She could feel her body lathering with sweat, straining as it was to answer the urgent needs of the two mean laboring over her naked body.

Peter moved her unresisting legs apart and placed himself between them. He ran his hand over the full length of his prick, hardened like steel now, and rubbed the head of it with his thumb. It secreted a small amount of sticky seminal fluid showing the depth of his own lust and desire. Then, he took his hands away and it stood straight out from his body, rigid, throbbing so hard that he thought he could see the rate of his own heart beat by looking at it. He put his hands under Marly, taking into them the soft whiteness of her desire-quivering buttocks and pulled her loins apart, slightly, then moved forward so that he was ready to enter her. He dipped his body at the hips and placed the head of his pulsating cock on the lips of the wet, pink, vaginal opening. He pressed the soft, resilient crevice of her buttocks further apart with his hand and worked his finger into her ass, the soft spongy and rubbery tissue there opening slowly to his tender probing.

He lifted the whole of her hips toward him, then eased his cock into the warm pink flesh of her pussy, then rested, feeling her move against him slightly, then back off. He squeezed and massaged her wide- spread thighs and moved gently into her, the walls of her cunt sucking him on and on deeper and deeper into her. He gradually moved his body forward so that he was penetrating her almost completely, almost all the way, and the clasping, wet warmth there drove him almost crazy, cozily wrapped around his hard pulsating cock. He did not push the head all the way in, all the way to its deeply hidden nest, but stopped short of that and rested, then again massaged the writhing woman's thighs.

Marly, her mouth open wide in passion, felt every one of Peter's manipulations. His nibbling at her thighs had sent cold shivers of pleasure up her body, only to be replaced by hot desire. She grasped to her what she could of Hans, kept his tongue in her mouth and worked it, sucking and biting and kissing, and moved her breasts, which seemed to her to be seeking a solace all by themselves, toward him until he increased his massaging and squeezing of them. Her hands tore at his back, at the muscles and the hollows of it, as far down as she could reach.

She felt every nerve twitching, springing to life, all of them building a fire within her that she was sure could never be extinguished, no matter what was used to suffocate it. Then she felt the cheeks of her buttocks again being gently pulled apart by the strong hands of Peter and she wanted to push onto him, have him spear her without thought of pain to her, to fill her hungry, throbbing pussy with the total strength of him. She didn't however; he had done alright by her in her two previous experiences with him and she didn't want to spoil anything by her own inexperienced greed. She felt the rubbery head of his prick in her soft, yielding cunt and moaned, trying desperately to hold herself back and not to raise herself and take all of him into her, but to let him lead the way.

When she felt his large shaft wedging her apart, sliding into her fully, she could have died from the pleasure it gave her. She could not help herself, she moved up on him, drawing him into herself, she was angry that he did not grind into her, but had stopped and stayed an infinitesimal distance away from filling her completely. Then she felt his practiced hands on her, rubbing and squeezing and massaging and then again on the cheeks of her buttocks, pulling them apart and the finger that cautiously probed her ass and then entered, sending welcome pain to her. She bit Hans' lips, pushed her tongue into his mouth, then accepted his into her throat and hung on for dear life as she suddenly trembled from head to foot.

Peter knew that she was ready, that she wanted the whole of his lust- hardened cock in her, deep and that she wanted him to grind away, pounding into her, rocking her with his sexual power. But, he deliberately took it easy, even though it hurt him to do so, and moved in and out of her, never hitting all the way to the top of her cervix until she started responding to him, slithering her cunt up over his prick, trying with the walls and muscles of her pussy to swallow the whole of it, to take it deep within her churning belly. He was on his knees, cupping her rounded buttocks in his hands, pulling her to him and away from him as he wished. And suddenly he could no longer take it and with a deep throated grunt, rammed into her all the way, until his balls smacked tight down against her exposed ass. He held for a moment, hearing her groan helplessly up into Hans' mouth.

Hans took his mouth from Marly's, moved his body on the bed so that he was straddling her chest, sitting atop her firm, heaving breasts. He could feel through her body the entrance of Peter, feel her heave when Peter plunged his big cock all the way into her. He put his hand behind her head and lifted it slightly, took his own long rigid cock in his other hand and guided it so that the head of it pressed against her lipstick covered lips. In spite of lust ridden desire, Marly tried to turn her head away, but he would have none of that. He opened her lips with his finger, and slowly guided the pulsating head of his prick toward her now open mouth.

Marly couldn't believe that Hans, a perfect stranger, would want her to do a thing like that and she tried to escape the mammoth hardness that he wanted her to suck. But, she couldn't. Then she remembered the warm, forbidden pleasure Peter's had given her and she relented, felt him open her lips with his finger, then the spongy head of his cock slipped into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth, rubbing with a slight stickiness on top of her tongue. She moved forward slightly when Peter rammed hard into her and then without warning her mouth was filled almost to the bursting point with Hans' hard rod of pulsating flesh. She closed her eyes and sucked, and tried not to gag, moving with abandoned desperation her hips against the wonderful fiery hardness within her and enjoyed the swiftly cruising pleasure that it gave her.

Peter began to fuck faster and faster in and out of her cunt, grinding at the top of her with every inward thrust. He could feel the warmness of her clutching at his hardened prick, sucking it into her, filling her whole slit. He buffeted in and out and ground and dug his hands into her, pulling her toward him, then away from him. He watched the hard, round tube of solid flesh coming out of her cunt, then sliding back in, glistening and wet and throbbing.

Hans pressed his cock further and further into her mouth, enjoying the pleasure it gave him to know that it was almost too much for her, the added pleasure he felt in his balls, the tingling there that demanded that he thrust into her mouth, deeper and deeper, until he was in up to the very root of his prick and he did so, slowly, feeling her buffeted upwards by Peter's hungry thrusts into her cunt. He leaned over and watched the hardness of him slipping into her red mouth, saw her lipstick covered lips creeping over the flesh of his hard cock, and gradually leaned and pushed all the way into her. She tried to move her head so that he would have to withdraw it, but he was too fast for her. He held onto her head firmly and pushed down until he felt his balls on her chin; he looked and was amazed at the smoothness of her complexion compared with the wrinkled skin of his sack. Then he began to plunge in and out of her, matching the rhythm that Peter had established plunging into her cunt. He was overjoyed when he felt her hands grab his waist and pull him into her. This, he knew, was the ultimate surrender and there was no turning back for the distraught housewife now.

Marly knew that she was going to cum. The two of them together using her body like a whore were just more than she could stand. She had not liked the huge prick of Hans in her mouth at first because it made it difficult for her to breathe; then that had changed, her excitement growing and getting away from her with every delicious thrust into her cunt from Peter down between wide-flung thighs. She had accepted the whole of Hans' prick, deep within her mouth, down her throat and was near to panic when he would not let her escape it. Then, without warning, she began to enjoy that as much as she did the feeling of Peter inside her. She felt the thrusting into her cunt and into her mouth and wondered dazedly if she were being torn apart by the two of them. Then the ecstasy of it all, the mounting sensations deep within her, began to explode and she sucked hungrily at Hans' hardened cock and clutched with the walls of her cunt at Peter.

She knew that Peter was getting ready to explode, that she was, but she had never expected Hans to erupt with his hot, burning semen into her throat, but he did. She felt her inner dam breaking and moved against Peter with a force that he was helpless to control, bothered as he was by his own mounting need to come, and then she was suddenly aware of an increased growing and throbbing of Hans' brick-hard prick in her mouth. She clutched and clawed and would have screamed out with pleasure if she could have when she felt herself going, losing control, her sensations suddenly bunching themselves deep in her womb and gathering to split apart. Peter plunged into her faster and faster and Hans tore at her throat and suddenly it was there. Her legs flailed out in the air, her nails bit into Hans' hips and she came, she broke, the whole of her orgasm flowing out with wild, abandoned force against Peter, who was hard inside her. He pushed into her forcefully and came, spewing his hot wetness over hers, filling her womb with thick, milk-white fluid, then Hans burst in her mouth, scalding her throat with his hot, pungent semen, then pushed on into her and ground down hard against her lips, hurting them, because in his passion and force of orgasm they were pressed back against her nibbling teeth.

The three of them came together, the men greedily clutched at her, roughly grabbed her to them with their hands and bore into her, then slowly released her and all of them parted at the same time, Hans falling to one side of her, Peter leaning backwards and his deflated cock popping wetly out of her, then moving his body alongside hers. She felt like a queen, the two most handsome men she had even known resting with her, having exhausted themselves and her with lovemaking. She stroked their heads softly with her hands.

"You are a most wonderful woman, Marly," Hans said, his hand flat on her still heaving stomach. "Truly you are."

"The most wonderful," Peter said, raising up and kissing her mouth. "We love you, beautiful." He went back to his former position and moved his hand appreciatively over the whole length of her smooth, soft body.

Marly could say nothing. She felt like crying with happiness. She didn't know how she had lived so long (only twenty-four years) without knowing what the real unrestricted joys of sex could be. She felt so lucky to be there, to have them, both of them, that she wanted to cry.

Hans disturbed her mood. He excused himself, got off the bed and left the room. She smiled at the leanness of his buttocks as he disappeared through the door. Then he returned a moment later, his sex swinging in front of him, with three glasses of drinks. He put them on the bedside table, then moved his arm under her head and lifted it slightly, then helped her drink from one of the glasses. She smiled her thanks to him. He put the glass in her hand, then handed Peter one and took one for himself. Then he toasted her, each part of her, then they all drank to everything each of them had experienced in the few short minutes of their orgiastic three-way coupling.

The three of them lay, satiated, drinking the burning liquor, enjoying the nearness of each other, the fulfillment that each of them felt. Marly finished her drink, then her hand gripped the glass. She had not thought about Justin all evening and now he suddenly crowded in on her thoughts, filling her with shame.

"Oh, God," she cried, "What have I done?" Both of the men immediately began to soothe her, to try and give her comfort. "Don't worry about Justin, Marly, he's in Chicago. He won't be back until Tuesday. You know that."

"It isn't a matter of when he'll be back," she sobbed, "I'll never be able to face him no matter when he comes back."

"Marly," Hans spoke, giving that strange musical sound to her name, "We will all help Justin adjust. You shall see. My wife is now with someone else. Of that I am sure. I do not mind. Your Justin will not mind once he is included. You will see."

"You don't know my Justin, Hans. He will mind. He... he doesn't like sex like you... we do. He would never let himself be included." She was crying again just thinking about Justin's strict moral code and what he would think of her if he saw her now, laying in bed naked with a nude man on each side of her, drinking liquor. She shuddered.

"Marly, please," Peter said, kissing her on the mouth through her tears, "Trust me. I told you that we will see that Justin comes to appreciate you and all of us. You'll see. We'll manage it. Just trust me." He pulled her to him, his arms wrapped around her and loved her tenderly, kissing away the salty tears. "We've already got a plan worked out for Justin. He'll be a changed man by next weekend at Hans' house. That's where we're having the next party."

Marly couldn't believe - even though she wanted to trust Peter - that Justin would ever go to a sex party, would ever join the neighborhood club as apparently she had done. She was wondering what the plan might be to entrap him, when Peter kissed her hungrily, probing his tongue deep into her, searching her mouth for excitement. She forgot about Justin and responded, surprised that the fires were already, so soon, building within her again.

Peter kissed her long and hotly, then guided her hand down to his soft, deflated penis. Even resting, soft, it seemed to her bigger than Justin's. But, she had never put her hand on his sex, he never having invited her to. She rolled it about her closed hand, pressing into the side of it with her fingers, then moved her hand to his testicles. She was surprised at the feel of the soft sac of flesh. She had never before felt so free to know a man, to run her hand over him, to find out for herself what he was made of. Just the idea that she was doing that made her want to cry out for joy. She felt Hans adjusting himself between her legs. He lowered himself on top of her, the full length of his body, and kissed her breasts. He moved her legs together so that his prick lay on top of them softly and stroked her thighs with his hands.

Marly felt wonderful. She kissed and sucked at Peter's lips and tongue and moved her legs so that she could feel Hans' prick against each leg. She continued to massage and handle Peter's cock, which was fast beginning to lengthen and harden. And, she loved the feel of Hans' mouth on her breasts. She massaged the back of his neck, his head, and moved her hand over his blond, silken hair.

She enjoyed the slow and kind nature of their manipulations until both of them were rock hard again. Peter was kissing her more violently and Hans was biting and squeezing her soft white breasts. As if by signal both of them stopped, Hans moved her legs and placed himself between them, moved them further apart and placed his hands on the inside of her thighs and used his finger to slowly spread the lips of her cunt apart.

He took one hand and put it on his extremely long, white rod of flesh and ran his thumb over the head of it. Marly couldn't believe that he was so big, that she could be expected to take all of that huge tool inside her little soft pussy, but a part of her mind told her that she could, that he wasn't any larger there than Peter was, that she wanted him to, to ram into her wih all his might and push it all the way up inside her. She moaned in an almost tortured anticipation.

Hans lifted her legs, put the head of his hard prick to the lips of her pussy and eased himself in, the passage warm and soft and wet. Marly groaned and took all of him into, seemingly, the very depths of her being, and enjoyed the feel of him there. He stayed inside her, not moving, not plunging in and out, and kissed her breasts. Then he took her in his arms and rolled over, bringing her on top of him as he did so.

Suddenly Peter was behind her, kissing her back, massaging the curved mounds of her soft, resilient buttocks and pushing her up and down onto Hans. Then, spreading the smooth white mounds he used his finger to tease and then enter her ass. She gasped with pain when his finger slipped inside her, then moved back onto it, enjoying the strange, forbidden thrill that it gave her.

She could feel the head of his cock probing the soft, rubbery tissue of the tight resisting hole, but she had no idea whether or not he wanted to or would be able to enter her there. Then, he did, gradually, causing her pain that she had never felt the equal of, just the head of his prick, then he reached around her and took her breasts in his hands and squeezed and rubbed her nipples between his fingers. She began to relax, somewhat, the feeling of Hans inside her, her lips bent to his, her tongue in his mouth, getting massaged and sucked by him. She could feel herself coming ablaze deep inside and started her motions up and down on Hans' large impaling prick faster and faster.

Suddenly, Peter grunted behind her and thrust his hard cock all the way into the soft rubbery walls of her rectum, pulling savagely on her tits to prevent her from moving away from him. She felt indescribable pain. It rocked her from her middle to her head and down her legs into her toes. All movement stopped. She sat still, getting used to the pain of the two of them, then Peter leaned his stomach against her back, kissed her neck and said, "You'll like this after a while. I'm going to move in and out a bit and you tell me if it hurts too much." He moved a bit more into her, then slowly pulled out, then pushed his prick back into her rectum, then repeated the same thing again, kissing and nibbling at her neck at the same time. And suddenly, for some indescribable reason, it felt right to her, moving it at the same time into her soft slit, then Peter behind her moving in perfect harmony with Hans, so that the heads of their cocks seem to meet and press together with only a thin tissue of her soft, pink flesh separating the two of them. She rocked up and down and was pulled up and down by both Peter and Hans. She could feel the hardness sluice into her stomach from behind and the hardness glide through the softness of her cunt and her joy was fantastic and beyond all imagination.

She thought she could sense the swelling of both their hardnesses, the large heads of their cocks seeming to expand inside her and she felt her own need burning again, deep within her and she speared herself onto Hans, and at the same time onto Peter and ground the two of them deep within her. She glued her mouth to Hans' mouth, his tongue filled hers, and Peter tightened his grip on her soft breasts.

She rose up and down and was pulled up and down until she felt her insides exploding, the hotness spreading over the head of Hans' still plunging cock, and she worked harder, emitting a moan that propelled both of them into greater bucking and plunging into her and suddenly it was there, all of it emptied once again from within her, causing an animal cry to escape her lust-tortured throat. She went limp between them, and seconds later they both spewed into her, Hans' hot sperm filling the upmost cavern of her throbbing pussy and Peter shooting into her bowels, hotly, then clawing at her and grinding and pushing and plowing and then falling weakly against her, emitting a small, helpless, deep-throated groan.

They rested, Hans under her and Peter still lodged deep in her sperm- filled rectum, then she felt the softening of them, then the slow withdrawal of Peter, then she moved slowly off Hans and felt him slip wetly out of her. She moved off him, lay alongside him on the bed, her breathing deep and calm. She couldn't remember when she had felt so satisfied, so spent.

The three of them lay quietly for what seemed like a long time, then Peter announced that he would get drinks. He hopped off the bed, went through the door, and disappeared. Marly turned her head, looked at Hans and said, "Are you sure your wife doesn't mind that you are here? I think that if I were your wife, I would mind. I really do."

Hans smiled, then turned sideways and put his arm across her. "You will not mind when your husband is with another woman. You will see. We will use my beautiful wife to seduce your husband into pleasure. I do not mind that. No." He kissed her gently on the mouth.

It was too much for Marly to fathom. She could visualize Justin's reaction if he should discover her there, with Peter and Hans. He'd never recover from the shock. Nor, she told herself, would she. She gently moved Hans' arm and got off the bed and went into the bathroom. Suddenly she felt like a shower, wanted and needed one. She automatically started to undress, then giggled remembering that she was nude and had been for sometime, then stepped into the shower. She lathered her whole body, touched her breasts gingerly, smoothed her hands over them, then rinsed off the soap and stepped out from under the steaming water. Marly dried herself carefully, powdered her body and used some risqué perfume that she had not dared to use before, then draped a towel around her, over her breasts and around her curvaceous buttocks, then re-entered the bedroom. Hans and Peter sat on the bed, sipping their drinks. They both looked up, whistled, and patted the bed for her to sit down. She walked toward them, then stopped just at the edge of the bed. Peter reached out, yanked the towel with his hand, and laughingly tossed it to Hans.

Hans took the towel, said, standing and bowing, "If I may be permitted?"

Marly nodded her approval and Hans slipped into the bathroom. She laughed and Peter grabbed her and pulled her to him on the bed, propped her against him, and put a glass in her hand.

"We'll go back over to the house very soon. I might like to freshen up a little if Hans doesn't drown himself in there." He kissed her. "My but you are clean and fresh," He said, biting into her soft flesh.

"And you're vulgar and dirty," she laughed, kissing his mouth.

"Peter," she asked seriously, "How can I face Vivian again? I would hate any woman who came into my house and took my husband away, especially if he were you. And don't laugh at me, please. I'm serious. I just don't think that I can face her."

"You innocent lamb," Peter said, moving his hand up and down her arm. "Vivian started this 'neighborhood club' herself. Don't worry about her. She likes you. She really does. And, she likes Justin, too. Just don't worry about it."

"May I ask you something, Peter?" Marly inquired, hesitantly.

"Shoot," he told her.

"Well... is Vivian older than you? I know that's a kind of bitchy question, but I'm serious."

"Yes, she is. Seven years older. Why?" He seemed puzzled.

"No reason. I thought so tonight, seeing the two of you together for the first time and I thought that it just might be the witch in me thinking such things about her just because she's your wife and I was afraid to ask you but..." Marly hurried on, fearing that she was hurting his feelings.

Peter stopped her with a kiss. "I love her, Marly. Very much. She worked hard and put me through law school and she is a perfect wife. Sure, she talks all the time and I don't know half the time what's she said or even what's she saying, but that doesn't bother me. She's very tolerant and she returns my love and she respects me. So." He pushed himself up and indicated that he was going into the bathroom.

Hans pushed through the door, no towel wrapped around him, and tossed the towel to Peter. "Get Marly a drink, you German bum," Peter joked, then closed the door to the bathroom quickly. Hans shrugged his shoulders, then went to the kitchen for drinks. He returned shortly and handed a full glass to Marly. They sat, quietly, looking into the mirror at the foot of the bed, and drank.

Peter bounded through the door of the bathroom, shiningly clean, yelled, "Up! Up! Dress! Dress! We have to go back to my house and get in on the drawing. Quick!" he ordered, popping the towel at them.

Marly marveled at her unconcern in dressing before the two men, each of them watching her, Peter taking her brassiere and panties and smiling and tossing them aside and telling her that she didn't need them, wouldn't need them the rest of the weekend. She felt strangely satisfied, somehow calm and peaceful. She wanted to draw the whole world to herself and embrace it, hold it in her arms and stand and caress it.

She meekly let herself be led out of her own home by Peter and Hans and across the patio to the next patio and into his house. She thought at first that the party had somehow broken up, that most of the people had gone home. There were only four people in the living room, each of which Peter and Hans greeted profusely and spoke in front of her of her accomplishments and beautiful body. She blushed deeply.

Roy, a middle-aged but still handsome man said, "Peter, fix the drawing so that I can be with Marly." He laughed, slapping Peter on the back. Marly was horrified. The idea of a drawing in which she was the prize did not set well with her. She turned her back on them and started for the kitchen. Peter was just behind, took her in his arms and apologized for Roy's 'crudeness.' "He must have forgotten that you are here for the first time, Marly. I'm sorry." He held her in his arms and kissed her lightly, then, "Come on, let's make drinks for everyone. We'll have everyone in the living room in..." he looked at his watch, "exactly seven minutes."

It took just about seven minutes to make the drinks. Marly was aware of the increased noise and conversation in the other room, the one she had left shortly before. She hoped that she wouldn't be timid about facing them, prayed that what Peter had told her about Vivian not minding would be true. She knew that that would be her who was married to Peter.

Peter kissed her on the nose, then put a tray of drinks in her hands, said, "O.K.?" and then they went back to the living room. Marly heard Vivian's voice above everyone's and hesitated, then took a deep breath and walked into their midsts.

"Oh, what a lovely creature and all the time for nearly two months living and being next door and all kinds of doubts assailed me about asking her over and Peter, you sly dog you, and we're all ready and the second and last evens are made up and we'll all drink and then we'll draw and it is a good idea which is Peter's that we re-assemble and hope and speculate before the next one so here's to all and one."

Vivian stopped talking long enough to swallow a small amount from the glass that Marly had served her. Everyone joined in the toast, all of them drank deeply.

The concoction was delicious, Marly decided, drinking hers hesitantly at first, then taking more each time, enjoying the faint burning and soothing sensation that it gave her. She wondered what was in the drink that she had never tasted before, but then she decided that she didn't care. She held out her glass for a re-fill when Hans passed among the guests and replenished their glasses. She smiled warmly and secretly to Anna. It made her feel good.

Suddenly Anna, Han's wife, started toward her. Marly had almost forgotten about her. She had the impulse to turn and flee, but she couldn't. She stood still and the nerves that controlled her to move suddenly froze. She tried to return the smile that Anna gave her, but it was impossible.

"Well, Marly, welcome to the club. Was Hans a devil with you?" Her green eyes were fastened on Marly; her smile was genuine and sincere.

"I... no... I don't..." Marly stuttered, suddenly angry with herself for her own stupidity. She had never been so embarrassed in her life.

"I understand, Marly. There is a first time for everything. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so blunt. Let's sit down." She took Marly's arm and guided her to a chair in the dining room. "Look," she said, sitting her beautiful self onto a straight-backed chair, "I understand that I'm to be instrumental in helping your husband to join. Tell me what he's like."

Marly's thoughts, suddenly directed to Justin, caused her to laugh, and relax. "I don't know what to say, really, Anna. We've been married two years and..." she hesitated, then continued, feeling the sincerity of the woman sitting there as though it were a physical presence. "He's very conservative. And he's not... well he really doesn't seem to enjoy sex. Not like Peter and... your husband." She blushed deeply, her face suddenly burning like fire.

Anna laughed softly, patted Marly's arm. "I know what you mean. Hans was the same way. I don't suppose either of them bothered to tell you, but I joined the club before Hans did. Our marriage was on the point of breaking up, Marly, and then we found this. I used to be a legal secretary in the same building with Peter. He introduced me to the club, then arranged for Hans to come in. They have become very good friends, as you can see." She smiled and tilted her beautiful he