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Crossing Over -- by Kysa Braswell
I wonder why it is, Jeannette Delray thought quizzically to herself, that
nothing in life ever turns out quite the way you think it will? Take me, for
instance, a born and bred New Englander - what am I doing in Magnolia, Arkansas?
I'm not even sure I like the South (perhaps 'approve of' was more the term), yet
here I am practically committed to spending the rest of my life here! Once Ray
gets his partnership we'll be committed for sure.
Funny, how the expression had slipped into both their vocabularies so that one
or the other of them seemed to use it several times a day. Once we get the
partnership. Will our lives really change so radically, and for the better, when
the magic day comes? As a matter of black and white practicality they would. We
know what the drugstore grosses every year, and the net. Half that net will be
ours, not just a salary. A salary that was far too low considering what
pharmacists were making elsewhere, even taking into account that this apartment
over the store was thrown in free of rent and utilities. Ray, of course,
wouldn't see that he could be making twice as much in Camden or Hot Springs, or
anywhere else in the country. And as Jeannette pointed out, that they could save
the necessary capital twice as fast.
"But then I wouldn't get this chance, the option that I have by working
here!"
"Do you mean an option in writing, like on a piece of property?"
Jeannette's pretty brow wrinkled slightly.
"No, not an option in the literal sense. I meant the agreement between me
and John Chandler that I can come in as a full partner."
"And you have only his word on that?" the tiny furrows creased deeper
and her clear grey eyes were disturbed, "No witnesses or anything?"
"Honey, that's the way business is done in small Southern towns, just by
sort of talking things over. When the time comes, we'll draw up some kind of
agreement. You have to remember that things are slow-paced here."
She would grant that. Things were snail-paced in Magnolia, in fact, and if it
wasn't for the appointments of her piano pupils she often would not know what
day of the week it was. Yet to see Ray so happy and absorbed in his work was
worth it all, she felt. Traditionally a wife was the helpmate of her husband and
should make the sacrifices and endure the necessary hardships to give him his
start.
When they had met on the campus, Ray had made his prospects clear from the very
beginning. His parents were dirt-poor farmers from the mountain area of Arkansas
and he was attending school through a scholarship and money he had saved while
in the army. Jeannette was not wealthy by any means, but certainly better off
financially and in family background. They had married during their senior year
and moved to Magnolia right after graduation. Ray had been recruited with
glowing promises by John Chandler, he needed a pharmacist immediately; the old
man who had the job had died and the local residents had to go ten miles to the
county seat to have prescriptions filled. In answer to Ray's questions about a
share in the business he said he would be willing to take in a partner as soon
as Ray could raise "a little cash to bind the deal" as he was occupied
with other business interests and did not like to work in the store himself.
Jeannette never forgot her first look at Magnolia. It was little more than a
crossroads, actually, with a square in the center of town where the roads met.
The important stores and churches were located on the square, with a grassy park
and the Confederate monument in the center. Stretching beyond that were a few
blocks of houses in each direction along the shady quiet streets, and then the
shabby, haphazardly-placed houses of the black people. A half-mile out of town
was a new subdivision of rambling brick homes where the younger business and
professional people lived and entertained each other with rounds of barbecues
and cocktail parties.
The social position of the Delrays was not yet clearly defined. Ray had joined
the Jaycees and Jeannette had been invited to some women's meetings, but they
were not really "in," another fact which she found galling. It was
difficult to accept invitations or to entertain because of the long hours Ray
worked and their shabby old apartment. Jeannette had painted and done a lot of
fixing, but it was still dreary and depressing with its old-fashioned high
ceilings and antiquated plumbing fixtures.
When they got the partnership they would buy a lot in Hickory Acres - their
credit would be good then for a home building loan from the local bank. And they
could afford to have a baby.
If we're still sleeping together, she said to herself. Oh, God, what makes me
think of things like that? We'll be sleeping together, we're husband and wife,
and that's one of the most important things about marriage, isn't it? Yet after
a year and a half together, the inexorable truth was that their sexual
relationship was getting worse, not better. Since they had settled into the
routine of their life in Magnolia, particularly, Ray initiated the sexual act
less and less frequently. Jeannette never made advances to him, of course; she
felt that was the man's prerogative and in any case her own sex drive seemed to
be rather low, she could live with or without it, actually it was just a little
bit distasteful to her, the whole messy thing. But she did worry about Ray's
satisfaction and whether it was normal for him to so often be too tired or
preoccupied.
Just last Sunday afternoon there had been a peculiar episode. She had been
washing the lunch dishes while Ray sat in the living room reading the paper.
Jeannette had not heard him enter the kitchen until the moment when he seized
her around the waist. Of course she screamed and then laughed and they stood
there together for a moment. Then Ray's hands had slipped upward to cup her
firmly rounded breasts and she felt his lips nuzzling the back of her neck as he
squeezed and kneaded the pliant, resilient flesh under his fingers. It wasn't
that she didn't like to be caressed in that way, but her hands were wet and
soapy and she didn't want to ruin his clean shirt, they were going for a drive
as soon as she finished the dishes.
So she had continued with her work and acknowledged his presence only with a
brief affectionate smile tossed over her shoulder at her young husband. He had
kept his hands on her breasts and pressed closer behind her until she was wedged
firmly between his body and the sink and his loins were up tight against the
ample spheres of her asscheeks. Suddenly she was uncomfortably aware that Ray
had an erection and the hard throbbing bulk of his ten-inch penis was pressing
into the crevice at the end of her spine. Perversely, her only reaction was
annoyance.
Why on earth, at such an inappropriate time? A peaceful Sunday afternoon and
they were almost ready to go out. She set the last saucepan in the drain and
pulled the plug, still pretending not to notice Ray's obvious arousal although
his penis was now digging into her to the point of widening the split between
the two soft fleshy cheeks of her asscheeks. His hands slipped from her
taut-stretched nipples and began to work up under her apron, massaging her flat
little belly while from the rear he slowly rubbed his loins against her with
insinuating pressure.
"Jeannette," his warm breath stirred in her left car, "let's go
in the bedroom, honey!"
"Oh, Ray," she protested gently, "here I've been hurrying to get
ready while you read the paper, and now you want to fool around."
"Who's fooling around? I mean business, I'm horny as hell!"
"Ray!" she hated that vulgar expression. "I just don't understand
why - I mean, of all times," it was difficult to hold her voice steady when
his fingers had reached her pubic mound and were moving over the sensitive area
in a slowly rotating motion that despite her annoyance was making her feel
curiously weak and warm up between her legs. At that moment the wall telephone
rang.
"Damn it to hell!" her husband cursed with surprising ferocity.
Jeannette twisted in his grip, "A - aren't you going to answer it?"
He shook his head and resumed his lewd probing of his wife's trembling loins.
"It's my day off."
"But it may be a customer needing a prescription."
The phone kept on ringing insistently as the young couple stood there locked in
an obscene embrace with Ray's hand thrust up between his wife's legs. Then,
abruptly - almost roughly - he released her and pushed her away as he moved to
snatch the telephone receiver.
It was a customer, a heart patient, who had just discovered he was out of the
digitalis pills he must take daily.
"All right," Ray said wearily, "Come down to the store in about
fifteen minutes. No - no free delivery nights or Sundays, only during regular
store hours. You can send a taxi if you don't feel like coming yourself, Mr.
Pickett."
Jeannette was already busy drying her hands. "We could drop the pills off,
we'll be out in the car anyway," she whispered to Ray, but he was already
hanging up. She carefully avoided looking at the front of his slacks where she
knew the tell-tale bulge still pushed out the fly in an incongruous manner. He
was glaring coldly at her.
"Be damned if we will. If he took his last pill yesterday, why couldn't he
come in then for a refill? Because he enjoys making a big emergency deal out of
it!" He strode angrily out of the room and she heard him go noisily down
the stairs to open the drug store.
Poor dear, he'd been working entirely too many hours, and should at least have
one day of rest in the week. It seemed so unfair that John Chandler should reap
all the profits of the drug store when he did nothing more than go over the
books occasionally, while Ray was on his feet from nine to six with an
additional three hours on Friday night. And nearly every evening there was a
call for a rush prescription, usually a child suddenly taken sick. There was of
course Minnie, the efficient spinster who clerked in the front of the store and
supervised the moronic teenagers who came and went at the soda fountain. But the
burden of the purchasing and inventory, as well as the busy pharmacy department,
fell on Ray.
When they finally did set out in their old hardtop, however, his usual good
humor seemed to have returned. They had long since explored every road leading
out of Magnolia, for these rides were their chief recreational outlet, but still
it was interesting to observe the countryside at different seasons of the year.
The spring was Jeannette's favorite time, it was so much more lush than a New
England spring and came a full two months earlier. Now, at the end of a dry
summer, there seemed to be a dusty haze in the air and a sleepiness had settled
over the scorching red-clay fields.
They drove first to Hickory Acres to inspect the newly- staked-out lots in the
undeveloped portion of the subdivision.
"Someone's bought the corner one," she touched her husband's arm and
pointed to the sign which was slashed diagonally by a bright yellow strip
bearing the letters SOLD.
"Yeah, so I see. But that's the only one. They're not moving so fast, what
with the recession," Ray was careful not to voice their unspoken fear that
the lot of their choice might be purchased by someone else first. They got out
of the car and went through the ritual of pacing off where the house would sit
and where the front door would be.
The rest of the day Jeannette remembered had gone quite smoothly. They had a
light supper and spent the evening watching TV. When the late news came on
Jeannette had gone ahead and showered as she liked her shower or bath at night
whereas Ray preferred one in the morning. When he came into the bedroom she was
already in bed, with only the sheet pulled over her. In her fresh cotton baby-
doll nightie she looked like a child, except for the outline of her high curving
breasts that protruded provocatively over the fold of the sheet and faint dip of
the "vee" between her legs where the light material bunched.
Ray stripped in a rapid, business-like way and stood naked beside her for a few
seconds; he never wore pajamas, it was a habit she simply could not talk him out
of. In the brief interval before his hand touched the light switch and plunged
the room into darkness, Jeannette's wide grey eyes rested lovingly on his tall,
lanky form. She did love every inch of him, from the black hair that had a habit
of falling over his right eye, to his big-boned hands that could be so gentle,
right down to his size twelve feet! (In her mental inventory, Jeannette passed
hurriedly over her husband's genitals which now hung down flaccidly between his
hairy legs but were still impressive in their proportions.)
She snuggled closer to him as he climbed into the bed and stretched out beside
her, almost positive that they would make love tonight since he had been so
eager for sex that afternoon. She was determined to try very hard to enjoy the
act this time, yes, even the last of it when he filled her with his messy,
sticky cum!
But Ray seemed to have entirely forgotten about the incident and apparently sex
was not on his mind tonight. He lay on his back for a few moments, then rolled
over with an affectionate pat delivered to her backside. "G'night,
honey."
"G-goodnight, darling," she whispered back timidly. She felt surprised
and oddly tense as she lay there beside his warm naked body and almost wanted to
reach over and stroke him or somehow indicate her willingness. She didn't want
to make any brazen announcement, however, and after a while she knew by his slow
deep breathing that Ray had fallen asleep.
She really couldn't imagine why she was dwelling on the events of last Sunday,
except it seemed to mark some kind of turning point in their deteriorating
sexual relationship, as though her rejection that afternoon had really
discouraged her husband. But that was absurd, they were still practically
newlyweds and only needed time to make these adjustments and solve whatever
problems had arisen. It wasn't a problem in as far as she was concerned,
although she found sex disappointing and not very enjoyable at best, she would
go through with it a reasonable amount of times for Ray's sake. She and Ray
might have different temperaments, but each respected the other's desires and
interests. For instance, Ray had not wanted her to give up her music and had
bought an old upright piano for her to practice on and to instruct her
half-dozen pupils. Why, Lord, she had a pupil coming for a lesson in twenty
minutes, and here she was sitting around daydreaming! She began to move
automatically around the living room, straightening up.
In the drugstore below, Ray Delray had for once caught up on the list of
prescriptions to be filled and they sat along the counter in a neat row while he
worked on the wholesale orders at the old-fashioned desk. Suddenly he heard a
gravely southern accent from the front of the store and recognized it
immediately as John Chandler's voice.
"How 'do, Miss Minnie! You doin' all right?" and then without waiting
for her answer, "Good, good!"
Chandler breezed by the soda fountain with a lecherous wink at the clerk,
"Honey, bring me and Mister Delray some cokes with lots of ice, child, lots
of ice."
He eased his considerable bulk behind the prescription counter, "Hi there,
Ray - you doin' all right?"
"Just fine, John," Ray said placidly, in the knowledge that business
was good and getting steadily better. He pulled up a chair for the older man.
Chandler was sweating, staining his immaculate light blue sports shirt, and he
took out a handkerchief and passed it over his ruddy face and thick shock of
graying hair. He was a handsome man of about fifty, beginning to show
unmistakable signs of overindulgence in good food and drink but still fit and
powerful looking.
"Another hot one," he sighed. "We sure do need some rain awful
bad. All my sweet corn is just dryin' up, just parchin' under that sun."
"Is that what you raise out there, corn?" Ray asked, waiting for his
boss to come around to the purpose of his visit.
"Oh, I raise a little bit of this and that. Main thing, course, is my beef
cattle. I'm just a gentleman farmer, and I guess that's a good thing, because
it's hard to make money at farming these days."
The girl appeared with two large cokes and Chandler nudged Ray's elbow.
"Look at that," he said in a husky undertone, "Just look at that
sweet little ass on that child!" It was true that the girl's nylon mini
uniform barely cleared her tender, youthful asscheeks. Ray had actually been too
busy to notice her nubile figure before. Chandler opened the lower desk drawer
and brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey he kept there. He added a
generous slug of the amber liquid to each coke.
"Course you got yourself something a lot nicer than that right
upstairs," he continued in an aggrieved tone, "Why, man, you're
practically still on your honeymoon. But when you get to be my age you sure will
appreciate those cute, raunchy little teenagers, let me tell you!" he
pushed one of the drinks toward Ray.
"I don't like to drink in the store," Ray said doubtfully as he picked
it up. "You know - old ladies come in and smell it on your breath, they
spread it all over town that you've taken to drink."
"You're a smart man, Ray," John Chandler said admiringly. "Yes
sir, always lookin' ahead, a damn smart man. You know, I just got the bad news
the other day that I'm gonna have to cut down on the brew myself. Yep, just
found out that my blood pressure's gone sky-high. Old Doc wasn't one bit
encouraging, said I'm headed straight for a heart attack if I don't slow down
and take things easy. Fact is, that's why I stopped by."
Ray Delray had a sudden premonition that something might be wrong, just from the
way Chandler's guileless blue eyes were roving over the shelves of
pharmaceuticals and avoiding his face.
"It looks like I have to think about retiring long before I'm
sixty-five," the older man continued, "or sort of semi-retiring, I'm
only going to keep hold of the properties that'll work for me without me working
on them, see what I mean?"
Ray shook his head and waited to hear what was coming next.
"No, I reckon you don't. Well, take this store, for instance. Since you
took over it runs pretty smooth, I certainly got to admit that, but there's
still the bookkeeping and figuring the taxes. I want to get shut of it. Instead
of taking in a partner, I've decided to sell out, Ray - the whole works."
There was a moment of absolute silence. Then Ray took a hefty swallow of the
sweet, whiskey-laced cola. "T-the building, too?" Chandler's stunning
announcement had caught him so suddenly that it was taking him several seconds
to assimilate the knowledge and what it would mean for him.
"Oh, not the building. You won't catch me selling a piece of prime real
estate that's right on the square. No, I mean the inventory, all the fixtures,
the good will, everything that's inside these four walls. Then I'll give the
buyer a long-term lease," he smiled at Ray, "You know, I was really
lookin' forward to us working as partners, carrying out your ideas for
remodeling, but when I got the word from Doc I knew I just had to think of my
health first. And there's Laura - I don't want to up and die and leave her a
widow."
"Yes, sure," Ray said, his mind going inevitably to Jeannette's
worried questions, nothing in writing? You only have his word for it? He felt
curiously light and hollow, as if the support had been knocked out of him. How
could he tell her? How could he ever tell Jeannette?
"Have you, uh," he cleared his throat, "Have you set a
price?"
Chandler settled himself firmly in the wooden chair and tilted the creaking
piece of furniture back on two legs. "Well," he crunched the ice from
his drink loudly between his teeth, "I'm thinking in the neighborhood of
fifty thousand, Ray."
"F-fifty?"
"Think about the inventory. You know yourself what's sitting here in the
inventory."
Ray knew. He also knew that much of it, including the last big drug order, was
not paid for yet. Still - perhaps it was a fair price. Although it seemed an
astronomical sum, especially since Chandler had promised to make him a partner
as soon as he had $5000. By putting $200 in the bank every month, he had already
saved $2800, he was more than halfway there, but now he wondered whether
Chandler would have held to the bargain, after all? "B-but, John, over the
next few years your profits from the store will be much more than that. I can
run everything - you wouldn't have to spend any time here at all unless you
wanted to."
"There's something in what you say," the big man admitted, "Only
the thing is, Ray, that I'll be spending my winters in Florida from now on,
buyin' myself one of these condominium apartments right on the beach, and me and
Laura are fixin' to go down there just as soon as I get everything straightened
out here. Now those apartments cost a heap of money and I got to raise some
cash, ever'body thinks I'm a real rich son of a bitch, I don't complain, but the
fact is it's all tied up in real estate. Naturally we couldn't sell the farm -
it's the old Sanderson place, belonged to Laura's folks since God knows when -
and we'll live there summers or whenever we take a notion to come back to town.
And like I already said, I don't want to part with any property in the business
district. 'Bout the only thing left is this drugstore."
"I see," Ray nodded, trying to control his wildly spiraling doubts and
thoughts, "How much - how much time will I have, in case I could maybe make
some kind of deal to buy the place?"
"That would please me very much, if you see yourself in a position to buy.
Well, I hope to get down there to Florida around the first of November, so that
leaves about two months. I, uh, I already had one offer, Ray, and they agreed to
meet that price I mentioned. I won't say who the offer was from, but it's a big
chain of discount drugstores."
As Chandler sipped his drink and continued to unfold the story, Ray Delray felt
a rising anger that blotted out caution and made calm speech impossible.
"Look here, John," he pointed out, "You know I graduated at the
top of my class. I had my choice of jobs and this was the lowest-paid of all,
but I took it, for just one reason. I wanted to own my own business, and that's
what you promised me - and I thought you'd be as good as your word!"
"Now hold on, son," Chandler tried to protest, but Ray plunged wildly
on, raising his voice so that he could be heard throughout the store.
"Now you tell me that you've been dealing behind my back to sell the
business right out from under me! Why, I don't think you ever had any intention
of keeping our agreement; you just wanted to hire a cheap pharmacist!"
"That's enough, Ray," Chandler's voice was still mild, but his pale
blue eyes glittered with a cold light and his florid face had reddened to a
deeper shade. He stood up. "You better simmer down before you say something
you're going to regret later on. I know you're disappointed and I'm not sayin'
you don't have maybe some right to be. But I had no way of knowing my health was
going to fold up on me, so to speak. Why, when I brought you down here I was
lookin' forward to us running the store for years to come, and I'll be very
happy if you can raise the money to buy me out. You're well thought of here in
Magnolia, you and your little wife, and if I was you I wouldn't want to spoil
that reputation by gettin' all hotheaded. I'll be talking to you later."
He turned on his heel and strolled through the store in a leisurely manner as if
they had discussed nothing more important than the weather. Ray stared after the
retreating figure, his fists clenched unconsciously, until Chandler passed
through the front door. Then he reached for the bottle of whiskey, poured a
double shot into his coke, tilted his head back and drank.
He was thankful for the sound of the faltering piano notes that could be faintly
heard from upstairs, Jeannette had a pupil, he could postpone giving her the
news at least for a little while. He didn't have to tell her at all today, of
course, but he knew that he would. As much as he loved Jeannette, he wondered if
it would have been better to wait a few years before marrying. A man had no
business getting married before he was making a good income and could provide
the things girls had come to expect. Why should Jeannette be penalized, not able
to have a modern house with nice furniture and the latest appliances, or pretty
new clothes? They'd never even had a real honeymoon, a thing which Ray bitterly
regretted most of all. Because maybe their sex life would have gotten off to a
better start if he had been able to take his inexperienced young bride to some
romantic, relaxing spot for the first few nights. Instead of staying in some
plush hotel or motel with a pool, they'd moved directly into a grubby little
campus apartment that was as bad as the one they lived in now. Her folks had
been very upset, they'd wanted the couple to wait at least until graduation,
they hadn't given Jeannette any presents or any financial help at all except
paying her college fees for the rest of the year. No, they hadn't wanted their
daughter to throw herself away on some no-account southerner!
It seemed ironic now that the quality about Jeannette which had first attracted
him to her was a sort of coolness about her, something that said "don't
touch me." He was sure that Jeannette was one of the very few virgins on
the campus, which had indeed proved to be the case. Fiercely proud as he was, it
was important to Ray that his wife should be a woman whom no other man besides
himself had ever possessed, or ever would possess!
Once they were married, though, he had looked for a change in her standoffish
attitude. He knew she loved him and had been eager to marry as soon as possible.
He had mistakenly believed she was just as eager for the physical side of
marriage, but from the first night, sex had been a fiasco, his bride seemed to
turn into a lump of ice under him. Maybe it took more time than he'd realized,
especially for a girl brought up in a very conventional manner as Jeannette had
been.
Absently, he carried the empty cola cups out to the soda fountain. The girl
reached out to take them, tossing the paper liners into the trash can and
stacking the gleaming metal bases expertly on a shelf. "Something else for
you, Mr. Delray?" she inquired solicitously, her made-up dark eyes bright
with curiosity. No doubt she'd overheard the row with John Chandler.
"Uh, no, thanks," he stared at her. God, he couldn't even remember the
little tart's name; she was new, long black hair fixed into an elaborately
artificial set and a long slender body that seemed far too mature for her
sixteen or so years. Ray ran his suddenly dry tongue around his mouth, it must
be the whiskey, sweet little ass, Chandler had said, Christ, it was a beautiful
ass, perfectly outlined by the electrically clinging nylon fabric, and all at
once he found himself wondering what it would be like to rip the skimpy uniform
off the girl, spread her legs out.
Drops of sweat beaded on Ray's brow. Yes, how would it feel to ram his cock into
that soft little belly? Christ, he groaned inwardly, how could he think of such
things when he had a beautiful young wife upstairs at this very moment? He
hadn't so much as looked at another girl since he married Jeannette.
Yet as he stood there in confusion, he was uncomfortably aware that his cock had
in mere seconds responded to his lewd thoughts about the soda fountain waitress
and it was now lying heavily against his stomach, fully erect. Turning hastily,
he retreated to the prescription department. God, what would happen to his
"good name" in this town if he started making passes at his clerks? As
he sat there staring blankly at the forgotten list for the wholesale house, Miss
Minnie suddenly entered the little cubicle, her face flushed with excitement.
"Mr. Delray!" she blurted, "He's going to sell the store, isn't
he?"
"I..." obviously she knew something was up, so why evade her question?
"That's what he's talking about, yes."
"I knew it! I knew the other day that something was wrong. Mr. Chandler
brought some men from Memphis in, they was going all over everything, asking
questions."
"When was that?" Ray inquired.
"Well, you wasn't here. Must have been the day you were in the city. See,
he made sure to bring 'em when you wouldn't be around!"
"Look," Ray said, "I'm sure it's as much of a shock to you as it
is to me, Miss Minnie. More, because you've worked here a lot longer than I
have. But I don't think you have anything to worry about. Whoever the - the new
owner is, he'll need employees, and there's no one who knows the store like you
do."
"Mmmhmm, and what about you, Mr. Delray?"
He shrugged unhappily. "I don't know. We'll just have to see. If I can't
get at least part ownership, then I don't want to work for someone else. I can
do that anywhere, for a hell of a lot more money!"
When Ray came upstairs that night, a half hour after closing time, Jeannette
sensed immediately that something was wrong. It was in the defeated slump of his
shoulders and the bleak gloominess of his face. But she said nothing, waiting
for him to tell her about it. She had fixed him a good dinner for the hot
weather, cold sliced ham, snap beans, macaroni salad and cornbread. Jeannette
was proud that she was learning to cook in the southern way.
But her husband only picked at the tempting food she loaded on his plate, and
halfway through the tense meal he suddenly laid his fork down and announced to
her, "Chandler's selling the drugstore - to a discount chain."
"W-what?" Jeannette stammered, her heart plummeting, "But he
can't do that, Ray! Where did you hear it?"
When he told her she kept on shaking her head in disbelief, "I just can't
understand how he could do such a thing." She pushed her chair back
abruptly and came around to her husband's side, taking him in her arms and
holding him protectively against her warm body as if she were comforting a
child, "Don't you care, Ray!" she said fiercely, "Don't you worry
about it for one minute. Oooh, I never trusted him - that smooth-talking old
hypocrite!"
She meant to soften the blow, to bolster his crushed feelings. Unfortunately,
her action and choice of words only brought home to Ray more strongly his
feeling of failure. The husband should be the one to comfort the wife and shield
her from life's harsh realities - not the other way around. And then to rub salt
in his wounds she had to say that she had seen through John Chandler all the
time whereas he had been taken in by the glowing promises.
In fact, Jeannette's thoughts were racing rapidly into the future, her only
sorrow was for Ray. Why, it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened,
after all. They had money in the bank, now they could leave Magnolia and make a
whole new start somewhere else, somewhere more lively and stimulating. But one
glimpse at the desperately unhappy face of her husband sent these hopeful
thoughts crashing into limbo. Ray had to make it here, he had to prove himself
in exactly the way that he had set out to do.
"Darling," she said gently, "maybe we can buy the store. I mean
how do we know unless we try? It is a lot of money, but everyone here knows you,
Mr. Sanderson at the bank is John Chandler's brother-in-law, you know. I'm sure
he'd consider loaning you the money, Mr. Chandler could talk to him, why,
everyone in town likes you!"
"That isn't exactly security for fifty thousand bucks," he pointed out
grimly, "But, you're right, I guess. It won't do any harm to ask - we've
got to know where we stand."
Ray did not fall asleep easily that night, but Jeannette lay awake long after he
finally dropped off. It seemed that the crisis had awakened all her instincts,
she was prepared to fight for her man, to do anything to insure that he got what
he wanted. She believed she had an idea, although she'd never been able to bring
herself to completely trust Mr. Chandler, she must admit that his manner toward
her had always been extremely courteous and friendly. In fact, he had treated
her with real old-fashioned southern politeness and had been very solicitous
about whether she was happily settled in Magnolia and liked his community.
Somehow she felt that, well, that she might have more influence with him than
Ray would. Ray was apt to get hotheaded, as he admitted he had this afternoon.
If only he hadn't really alienated John Chandler, perhaps she could persuade him
to change his mind about selling out, or at the very least enlist his aid in
getting them a loan. He would not be so bluntly business-like with a woman, she
felt, and she did not mind begging for Ray's sake. Yes, she must manage to see
John Chandler alone, and without Ray's knowledge of the meeting. God, Ray would
kill her if he even guessed what she was thinking!
Arranging to see her husband's boss was not so easy, however, Jeannette Delray
found. He did maintain an office over the bank, but it was a sort of dummy
office. There was no secretary and you could never tell when Chandler himself
would be there. Jeannette took to watching the square from her front windows for
a glimpse of the tobacco-colored station wagon that he drove.
Meanwhile she tried to persuade Ray that it would not do to present their case
too hastily at the bank, they must be organized with all the figures on the
store's volume of business, show that Ray was a capable administrator. Her poor
darling had been going around like a zombie ever since that day he found out
about the sale of the store. She just couldn't understand why it meant so much
to him, after all, he was a young man, only twenty-six, how could anyone be a
failure at twenty-six? She supposed it had something to do with being poor as a
child, wanting something other than farming, no doubt the business people with
whom Ray's family had to deal, and beg credit from, had seemed to a child like
the very pillars of the economy or something. Her own father, a moderately
successful salesman, had never worried about working for others, but Ray had
this craving, this obsession, to be his own boss.
On Friday afternoon before the Labor Day weekend she at last saw the brown
station wagon parked opposite the bank and knew that here was her opportunity.
At first she thought of telephoning to ask for an appointment, but she nervously
dropped the phone back on the cradle after dialing three numbers. She hurried
into the bedroom, unzipping her dress as she walked, and let it fall to the
floor. She selected a sheer pale yellow dress that seemed ladylike and fresh,
though a trifle short. Then she released her long ash-brown hair from its pony
tail and hastily brushed it down over her shoulders. She realized that this made
her look younger, perhaps, she thought, surveying herself in the mirror, she had
gotten a trifle heavier since marriage, although it certainly had not harmed her
looks. It only made the dress cling faithfully to every curving high-point of
her figure. On the hanger it had seemed so demure and simple, but now when it
was stretched over her high thrusting breasts and caressing her soft fluid
hipline, the dress was almost blatantly sexy. It would do nicely, she thought,
for the purpose of charming John Chandler onto their side. She hastily buckled
on white sandals, dabbed a touch of lipstick on her small, prettily curved mouth
and picked up her purse.
She hurried down the stairs and out of their private entrance which fortunately
did not open into the drugstore. God, it was hot, she would be perspiring before
she had crossed the square! One of the things Jeannette disliked about Magnolia
was that everyone knew your business, since everyone's business was transacted
on the square - bank, doctor's office, finance company or whatever. Hopefully
she would not be observed entering the side door that led to the rooms over the
bank, although of course she had a perfect right to go there if she wished. She
reached the entrance without meeting anyone she knew and let herself into the
gloomy hallway. The sagging old oiled wood stairs creaked beneath her light
tread.
John Chandler's office door stood open. Evidently he had been looking for
something, as his desk was strewn with papers. As Jeannette reached his doorway
he looked up, face blank for only a second. Then he smiled in welcome.
"Why, hi there, Miz Delray! You doin' all right?"
"Fine, thank you," she acknowledged, all her courage abruptly
deserting her.
"Well, just come right in. You, uh, lookin' for me?"
"Yes, if you're not busy, I would like to talk with you for a few
minutes." As she moved toward the chair he indicated, Jeannette nearly
tripped over a big black and tan German Shepherd that had been completely
concealed by the desk. "Oh!" she exclaimed nervously, and the animal
raised its head and regarded her alertly although not otherwise moving from its
reclining position.
"That's just Drake," Chandler chuckled, "You 'fraid of dogs, Miz
Delray?"
"N-no, I love dogs," she laughed self-consciously, "He startled
me, that's all." She reached down to stroke the dog's glossy head. She had
seen the magnificent animal before, usually looking out the rear window of the
station wagon. Jeannette crossed her shapely bare legs and folded her hands
demurely in her lap, looking directly into the ruddy, handsome face of her
husband's boss.
"Mr. Chandler, Ray - Ray and I are very disappointed about your decision to
sell the drugstore. That's what I want to talk to you about. Ray doesn't know
that I'm here, it was entirely my own idea to come, s-so I hope you won't say
anything to him about it."
"Well, now, is that a good idea, for a nice little wife to keep secrets
from her husband?" he drawled, but from his understanding smile Jeannette
knew he was only teasing her. In fact, his easy-going informality was putting
her more and more at ease, so she plunged on.
"No, of course it isn't, but I guess wives have always, interfered a little
bit, when they thought it was necessary. You see, I understand my husband so
much better than anyone else does. He's very proud - too proud to come right out
and tell you how much he wants to own that drugstore, or at least be a partner.
I'm sure you know that's why we decided to come here in the first place,"
she made this last remark rather pointed and then looked up anxiously to see
whether it had offended him. Apparently not, for he was still smiling in a
kindly way. He seemed to be staring at her legs and she shifted her position a
bit in the chair and tugged her skirt down before continuing, "Ray is going
to ask the bank for a loan, to buy you out. I - I'm sure that your, your help,
your recommendation would be very, uh, persuasive to the people at the bank. I
believe you're related to the bank president?"
"Brother-in-law," John Chandler said, nodding, "Lee Sanderson is
my wife's twin."
"Oh, really - twins? I didn't know that."
"'Course that doesn't mean I can tell him how to run his bank," the
big man pointed out, "but like you say, my opinion does carry a little
weight."
"I'm sure it carries a great deal of weight," Jeannette said warmly,
"That's why I came to you. And also, of course, because I feel that I know
you, a little, at least. I couldn't have gone to Mr. Sanderson, for instance,
with such a request. Will you help us, Mr. Chandler?" Her grey eyes rested
pleadingly on his face and she sat forward slightly in her chair, the movement
deepening the dark shadowed cleft between her large breasts. Chandler's gaze
flicked downward and rested on those twin mounds that were quivering noticeably
from her nervousness. Goddamn, he thought, but the girl had a pair of beauties!
He could hardly believe that Ray Delray's snotty New England wife was actually
sitting here in his office at this moment asking him for a favor. He had always
dismissed her as unattainable, no matter how attractive. Now, a bold plan was
rapidly taking shape in his devious, cunning mind.
"Look, Miz Delray - may I call you Jeannette?" She nodded
breathlessly. "I want to help you, Jeannette. I sure-to-God do!" his
husky southern voice oozed sincerity, "and maybe there just might be
something I can do. But don't go gettin' your hopes up too high. We all of us
business people in this town would like to see Ray running the store. After all,
he's a Tennessean, practically a local boy. But these aren't the best of times,
I guess you know that, and there's certain rules any bank has to be guided by in
making loans. If you start bending those rules too much out of shape then the
bank's in trouble."
"Perhaps," she said timidly, "if you feel there's no chance of
our getting the loan, you'll reconsider selling and go back to the partnership
plan?"
He smiled sadly. "I'm afraid my doctor would have something to say about
that, and Laura wouldn't be too happy either. Now if you and I were going to be
the partners, that might be different."
Jeannette was at first annoyed that he would joke about a matter which was so
very serious to her. She looked at him rather severely and he stared back at her
with a direct, disturbing gaze. Good heavens, he couldn't be, he wasn't
suggesting, no, she could only treat it as a pleasantry, an inept one. So she
smiled at him innocently. She had never really had the opportunity to study John
Chandler before at close range. He certainly did not look to be in poor health,
nor old enough to retire. Although streaked with grey, his hair was as thick as
Ray's and worn in modish sideburns. He was a large man and undeniably a handsome
one and his oddly compelling gaze was raking her from head to toe! Jeannette
felt the first prickle of discomfort, and feared that he had misunderstood her
intentions in coming here. She had hoped of course to take advantage of her
feminine position, but not, not by demeaning herself!
"Is there anything you can do for us? Have you any advice?" she asked,
growing more uneasy every second that his now frankly lecherous eyes devoured
her body. He smiled in answer, slowly and confidently.
"There might be, Jeannette," he paused to let his words sink in.
"There just might be. Tell me - what ever made a northern gal like you
marry a no-account like Ray Delray?"
"What do you mean, no-account?" she blazed, getting angrily to her
feet, "I love Ray!" The dog, Drake, stirred and lifted his head again.
"Why, there's not another man in this stupid little town who's got
one-tenth of Ray's brains and ambition!"
"Oh, I know all that," he answered mildly, "but he hasn't got any
money, any family, any backing. You should have married a man with some position
in the world."
"Don't underestimate us, Mr. Chandler," she said icily, "Ray will
have position some day, and I'll fight to help him get it."
"Uh-huh. And just how far are you willing to go, honey, to help your
husband?"
"Wh-what do you mean?" her pretty face wrinkled into a frown as she
tried to fathom the depths of his mind.
"Simple. I've got something you need - influence. And you've got something
I could use. Yes sir, something I could make very good use of," his even
white teeth flashed at her. "You're a regular little spitfire, but I admire
a woman with guts - specially when she comes all tied up in a pretty package
like you do."
"I'm afraid I don't understand you," Jeannette said coldly, beginning
to move around the desk with her eye on the door. But her heart was plummeting.
God, had she ruined everything?
"Let me make it crystal clear, then," Chandler stood up, too. He
turned around and closed the door, than faced the trembling young wife. "I
like you. And after we got to know each other better, I think you'd like me. As
for that husband of yours, I didn't like the way he shot his mouth off the other
day and if I do anything to help him get the store it will only be because of
his pretty little wife and how nice she is to me."
Jeannette had reached the door but found her path blocked by Chandler's sturdy
figure. Her heart was pounding wildly and her beautiful face was flushed with
embarrassment and anger. "Let me pass," she snapped, "I can see
I've only wasted my time in coming here!"
He reached out and seized her, drawing the full length of her body tightly
against his and holding her there, immovable. Gasping with shock, she beat
ineffectually at his chest with her little fists, meanwhile feeling his belt
buckle digging into her flesh just under her breasts and further down, something
hard that poked into her stomach and could only be, oh, God! She was enveloped
in the pleasant spicy smell of his shaving lotion as he forced her face upward
to meet his. His open mouth enclosed her small lips and his powerful tongue
inserted itself between her clenched teeth, pushing, pushing into her throat.
With a muffled, strangling cry and with all her strength Jeannette succeeded in
twisting away, ducking her head out of the reach of his lewdly thrusting tongue.
At the same time she freed her right hand and slapped him just as hard as she
could, so that her palm smarted from the impact.
"Ow!" he exclaimed. "Why, you little hellcat!" Instead of
being angry, however, he was smiling, laughing down at her as though it was a
huge joke. "You'll pay me for that, in spades," he promised, rubbing
his reddened cheek. Behind Jeannette the dog, Drake, suddenly let out a sharp
bark and she started with fright and surprise.
"Down, boy - stay," John Chandler commanded calmly, grinning wryly at
the terrorized girl, "You're damn lucky Drake didn't take a nip at your
ass, he didn't know if we were playing or it was for real. I surely would hate
to see anything happen to that cute little tail of yours!" He was still
holding her loosely and they were both breathing heavily. "I want to see
you, very soon, your place?"
"You're crazy!" she sputtered. "I never want to see you again,
after this outrageous, this," she couldn't find words to express her
contempt for his behavior, "you just wait 'til I tell my husband about
this!"
"If you want me to help you, those are the terms. Just call me when you're
ready, Jeannette. Your place, or we can go to a motel, personally, I think your
apartment is safer, but that's up to you."
"You, are, insane," she hissed, "I have no intention of meeting
you anywhere. What you are suggesting is unthinkable - you're married - I'm
married. And even if I weren't, the very idea would disgust me!"
"Oh, but you wouldn't find the experience disgusting, honey. I can promise
you that you'll love it." His big hands began to move and before she had
realized it Jeannette felt her right breast cupped by his widespread fingers,
and reacted as though she had received an electric shock. She struck his arms
down and reached for the doorknob, her eyes blinded by hot tears of rage. He
caught her around the waist as she jerked the door open and passed his offending
hand gently over the rounded swell of her asscheeks, whispering hoarsely,
"And remember this, Jeannette, if I don't hear from you, then you can be
sure Ray won't get the loan!"
She fled at a dangerous speed down the old staircase, stopping in the hallway
below only long enough to compose herself sufficiently to step out onto the
sidewalk. The sunlight was blinding, the air oppressively still and hot as she
made her way back across the square, defeated. John Chandler! She still could
not believe it, John Chandler, one of the most important men in town, he and his
wife right at the head of the Magnolia social circuit, respected, admired. Ha!
And he had dared to kiss her, in the most repulsive way, a suggestive tongue
kiss, touched her breast, asked her to meet him! It was the greatest shock of
her young life. The old lecher, yes, twice her age, oh, he hadn't come right out
and said it in so many words, what he wanted, hadn't put a name to it. God help
her, what had she done? And all she'd wanted was to help her adored Ray!
Jeannette reached the security of her own door, unlocked it with fumbling
fingers and ran upstairs. She threw herself on the bed, still shaking and
quivering although no tears came. She wanted to cry but could not. She was too
frightened.
From his dusty window John Chandler had observed her progress every step of the
way. Goddamn, he chuckled, look at that little ass sway, she sure is fit to be
tied! Look at those legs, gal's got legs like a racehorse, Jesus, I bet she can
pump those legs in the sack, too.
Little hellcat! He saw with satisfaction that Jeannette did not enter the
drugstore, but went directly to the house entrance. No, she wouldn't be in a
hurry to tell Ray about it, it was a hundred-to-one shot that she would tell her
husband at all. Because the first thing he'd say would be what were you doing in
his office? And Jeannette was smart enough to figure that out. Let it lay for a
few days, just as it was. If the snotty little bitch was so crazy about her
farmer of a husband, she'd be around. Yes sir, all he had to do was let it lay.
Still smiling, Chandler reached down and patted Drake's furry head. Liked her,
didn't you, boy? We might just get ourselves a piece of that, Drake, how about
it? Been a while since we had any strange cunt, hasn't it? He seated himself at
the big old- fashioned desk again and resumed going through his papers. There
was a lot of work to be straightened out before he left for Florida.
Every few minutes he would stop, however, and smile thoughtfully to himself at
the way things were working out, falling into place. He had been trying for
several seasons now to get Laura to move to Florida for the whole winter. She
had proved stubborn on this point and so he had hit on the idea of saying the
Doc wanted him to slow down. Actually, Doc's warning had been nowhere near as
dire as he went around telling everyone. His blood pressure was up a little, he
should eat less, drink less whiskey, quit smoking. As far as retiring, John
Chandler hadn't worked an honest day for years anyway, and why should he? If a
man had some brains and used them, others would do the work and he could sit
back and count the money. Take Ray Delray, now, he would work hard, save all his
money, and someday he might own a crummy drugstore! Well, if that was his
version of the American Dream, let him go after it.
He had been just as poor as Ray at the same age, and look at where he was now.
Of course, the Sandersons hadn't been hillbilly farmers, they were real old
southern quality and that still counted for something in Magnolia. If he hadn't
come from a good family, Laura's grandmother probably would have had their
marriage annulled. She'd been only sixteen while he was twenty-four.
That was the year after the war was over, and he'd just got out of the army and
had come home to Magnolia to draw his veteran's unemployment benefits while he
looked around for something to do. The Sanderson twins, Lee and Laura, had been
children when he went away, now they were seniors in high school and most of the
town gossip revolved around the twins. Parents dead and being raised by their
grandmother, a fool if there ever was one. Set out to make Laura a southern
belle who would have done credit to the Civil War days - innocent, ladylike,
sheltered - and naturally the girl had rebelled and turned out just the
opposite. Wild! Smoking at thirteen, using words nobody could figure out where
she'd learned, and from the age of about fourteen on, putting out to anything in
pants. Lee, the boy, wasn't half as bad as his sister but they were both
hellions. They were both spoiled rotten and when they turned sixteen that
spring, Grandma had to rack her brains to come up with presents they didn't
already have. She bought Lee a convertible and promised Laura a trip to Europe.
But the girl didn't want to go to Europe, especially since she had to wait until
graduation and then go along with Grandma. When her twin got a car, Laura was
furious. Somewhere she picked up the basics of driving and was soon sneaking out
in Lee's new car whenever she got the chance.
That Saturday night, John Chandler had just come out of the theater and was
standing at the curb. Magnolia's only traffic light turned red and he had
started across the street when there was a squeal of brakes and a yellow fender
dipped to a stop only inches from him. He started to swear, looked up, and the
words died,
"Hi, John," Laura said. "I'm sorry if I scared you," she
giggled. "It'd be awful to go through the war and then get killed right
here on the square, wouldn't it?" She was staring at him with undisguised
admiration, he was wearing his tropical-weight uniform and the pocket was
crowded with his battle ribbons. The two of them were suddenly a pair of
animals, sniffing at the warm flower-perfumed night air in search of excitement.
"Can I give you a ride someplace?" her little red lips parted
expectantly.
He got into the car beside her, conscious even then that this might be a
momentous evening although he did not know that it was going to change the whole
course of his life.
Everything he had heard about Laura turned out to be true, and then some. He
couldn't believe she was only sixteen, no teenager could possibly acquire the
knowledge that was packed into her lithe, hundred-pound body! They had gone
directly to a roadhouse a few miles out of town, where Laura insisted on having
beer. Evidently she'd also had something to drink before picking him up, she was
not drunk, but pretty high. They sat side by side in a booth and suddenly he
felt her warm hand on his thigh, moving purposefully upward until it stopped in
the "vee" of his legs, cupping his balls. Jesus H. Christ! He nearly
choked on his beer as he felt her fingers working down there at his loins, did
she know what she was doing to him? A glance at her face with its wicked tittle
cat-like smile told him that she did. She leaned over and put her lips against
his left ear. "Ooooh, Johnny, have you got a big cock?"
He couldn't have answered her, his heart was beating clear up in his throat like
a hammer. So he put his hand down over hers and drew her fingers upward. By God,
his cock felt like it was bigger than it ever had been or was ever going to be
again, it was throbbing like crazy and ramming against his pants like it was
trying to get free, and into her hot little pussy.
"Oh, Lord," she squealed as her hand closed over him, "it is big,
Johnny! Now, what are we going to do about that?"
"It's your fault," he told her, "I guess you better figure it
out."
"You mean you don't kn-o-o-w?" she drawled in a teasing voice,
squeezing his penis and massaging it up and down until he thought he'd go off
right there and then.
"You little cock-tease!" he growled, shoving his hand between her
legs. Her thighs were smooth and warm and they clamped together over his
invading hand, then very gradually opened to allow him to push farther up the
forbidden split until his fingers encountered her panties. Chandler remembered
feeling that maybe somebody ought to pinch him and wake him up, this had to be a
dream, sitting here with the Laura Sanderson, feeling each other up in full view
of anyone who wanted to look and be goddamned if he could tell which of the two
of them was the hottest. Laura's eyes had a glazed look and she was breathing
fast and jerky, "Shall we get out of here?" he whispered.
"Yes!" she wiggled away from his obscenely probing fingers just as
they slid under the tight elastic leg-band of her pants. She stood up and he had
hastily thrown some money on the table and followed her. Laura had insisted on
driving, but instead of taking to the highway she simply drove behind the
roadhouse, right into a field. He thought the car would hang up in the soft
earth, but she spun it under a big tree and right there is where they did it. He
had wanted to put the top up in the convertible but Laura was too eager to wait,
he smiled faintly, recalling that zippers were new in those days and the pants
of his uniform had a button fly. Laura had the buttons undone in seconds, and
she took his aching cock out.
"Ohmygod, Johnny!" her voice was awed, "It is HUGE! Lord, I never
saw one like that, you'll kill me with it!" and she had bent over him, her
long golden hair falling over his genitals, brushing against his heavily loaded
balls while she kissed the tip of his giant eleven-inch penis and then ran her
little pink tongue all around it like she was licking an ice cream cone.
Groaning with his desire to get into this incredible little witch, he tore at
her dress, pulling it down to expose her youthful breasts with their high,
pointed contours and virginal tiny nipples. Then he pushed her skirt up until
her clothing was all bunched around her waist and the lower half of her sensuous
body was exposed too, the brief panties starkly white against her slim tanned
legs. Laura released his swollen rod from her warm wet mouth and scuttled
backward on the car seat to a reclining position, her legs raised. Panting,
almost sobbing, she helped him pull the panties off.
"Christ, Laura, you're beautiful!" he exclaimed huskily as he stared
down hungrily at her nakedly exposed pussy. The pink cuntal slit nestled, almost
concealed, beneath her short curling golden pubic hair. "Oh, hurry,
hurry," she was begging him, "I'm so hot I can't stand it!" and
she took his lust-swollen cock in her hands and guided it toward her tiny cunt.
She had whimpered when he burst through the tight muscular ring, but had quickly
become use to the bulk of him inside her and he had been too aroused by her
wanton eagerness to exercise any caution or restraint. He had fucked Laura
Sanderson mercilessly, as if she had been a common whore and, God, she had loved
it. Sixteen years old! He could have gone to jail for the things he did to her
that night in the car, well, if it came to that he reckoned he could have gone
to jail for a lot of things he'd done in his life. John Chandler grinned
humorlessly.
It had been very late when they had finally satiated each other and got their
clothes straightened. Again, she had wanted to drive and he figured she was
sober enough, although still a rotten driver. They were coming into the
outskirts of town, down in the colored section, when it happened.
The streets were quite deserted, so that the last thing they expected was a
white figure looming up suddenly in the headlights. Laura had jerked the wheel,
but the right fender had hit the white object. The impact was so slight, yet it
hurled the figure several yards ahead and it crumpled against the curb. Laura
kept on going, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
"What was it?" she cried.
He had tried to get her to stop, to go back. "I think it was a woman, a
colored woman." She just kept on driving.
"S-she stepped out in the road! You saw her, Johnny! I... I haven't got a
driver's license."
Luckily for both of them, he had kept his head. He told her again to stop and
then he got behind the wheel. They did not go back to see about the woman,
instead he went to his home and put the car in his vacant garage, his mother
hadn't had an auto since the war. There was only a small dent in the fender, but
to be sure he got several buckets of water and washed that side of the car very
carefully. Then he drove Laura home. When they turned in between the brick
gateposts at the entrance to the Sanderson farm, John Chandler deliberately
scraped the right fender, crumpling it slightly and leaving yellow paint on the
bricks. He explained to Laura that this was necessary to explain the damage, and
that he would pay to have the car repaired.
It turned out that the victim was an aged colored woman with no relatives, and
so not too much fuss was ever made about finding the hit-and-run driver. The
state police did check on cars that required body work after the date of the
accident, but readily accepted the explanation of the damage to Lee Sanderson's
convertible. And the following week, on the night of Laura's graduation from
high school, she and John Chandler eloped to Mississippi and were married.
The marriage had worked out well. Perhaps Laura's grandmother had seen that
Chandler was a strong enough man to handle her wayward granddaughter as well as
guide Lee Sanderson in running the various family enterprises. He had insisted
that as his wife, Laura should conduct her sexual affairs with more discretion
although he was aware that a woman with her insatiable appetites could not
remain faithful to any one man. Well, he had his own appetites, by God, and he
hadn't done too badly over the years either! If theirs had been the conventional
marriage it would never have lasted, but he was smart enough to see that Laura
was like a horse with the bit in its teeth - let her have her head and run, and
she would come right back to the stable when the fun was over. No, he would
never divorce her - for one thing, the Sanderson family holdings were the base
that lay under the considerable fortune Chandler had built up - the real estate,
the bank and the saw mill all contributed handsomely. The drugstore was only
something he had bought up cheap, on a whim, mainly to get the building. He had
no real interest in it and would be glad to see it go, once it had provided the
cash for the ocean-front apartment in Florida.
Whistling cheerfully, he selected the papers he wanted and placed them in his
briefcase. Then he locked the others away in the desk and snapped his fingers at
Drake. The well-trained animal rose immediately and padded silently out of the
office with his master.
Chandler entered the bank, nodding and speaking to various patrons as he made
his way to the rear and walked directly into his brother-in-law's office without
announcing himself. The room was far more sumptuously furnished than Chandler's
dusty office upstairs, so that anyone who did not know better might suppose that
Lee Sanderson was the more important of the two men. However, in his dealings,
it suited the crafty Chandler to retain his poor-boy-makes-good image - the
local people trusted him because it seemed like he was really one of them. He
seated himself on the massive brocaded couch and drew up a silver ashtray.
"Hi, Lee. You doin' all right?"
"Can't complain," his brother-in-law said mildly, swiveling his
leather armchair around to face Chandler, who wasted no time in getting to the
point.
"Ray Delray is gonna be over here one of these days to see you about a loan
- he wants to buy the store, only he hasn't got any money."
"Well, are you selling to him?"
"Hell, no, you know that other deal is all wrapped up. But here's what I
want you to do - stall him. Tell him all the usual, the Board has to approve all
the loans, just stall him for a while, be nice to him."
Sanderson went to the concealed mahogany bar and made them each a drink. Handing
one glass to John Chandler, he said, "Can I ask why? Why don't you tell him
right off that it's no deal? Ray isn't a bad guy, John."
"That wife of his isn't bad, either," Chandler remarked with a low
chuckle, "How would you like to get in there, Lee? You want to throw a good
fuck into that stuck-up bitch, Jeannette Delray?"
Lee Sanderson's thin, nervous face quickened with anticipation. "What you
talkin' about, John? She wouldn't give either one of us the time of day."
"Like to put a little money on that?" the older man was an inveterate
bettor, but as his wife's twin knew, Chandler didn't bet unless the odds were
heavily loaded in his favor, but Jeannette Delray? The piano teacher? This time
he was overreaching. Chandler saw the doubt and indecision of Lee's expression.
"Five'll get you ten," he prompted, "that I can lay her, and
after I get her reamed out good, she's all yours!" He leaned back and
sipped his bourbon, smiling.
The next time Jeannette Delray looked from her front window, the brown station
wagon was gone from its parking spot and she breathed a little sigh of relief
for that. She hoped she wouldn't ever have to face her husband's boss again,
that they could leave Magnolia without this being necessary. They would be
leaving, she felt sure now, because of course what John Chandler had suggested
was impossible. Even if she could somehow force herself to go through with it,
Ray would never want to obtain the store under such conditions, would he? The
sad thing was that while she already knew now that their case was hopeless
beyond any doubt, Ray still dared to think he might get the loan, after all!
In fact he spent most of the Labor Day weekend working on his presentation for
Mr. Sanderson. He was going to the bank on Tuesday morning and Jeannette became
increasingly nervous as he talked to her about it. Yes, she nodded, it was a
good time, the first day of school, fall at last in the air, a new season, a
perfect psychological moment.
"For God's sake, pay attention!" Ray snapped at her suddenly, and she
jumped. Hadn't she been paying attention? "You don't want to stay here at
all, do you?" he continued accusingly. "You don't like Arkansas - you
want to move to a city - why don't you come right out and say so?"
"Oh, no," she said, seating herself in her husband's lap, "I do
want to stay here, darling. All our plans, and there's our lot in Hickory Acres,
I want exactly what you do. I - it's just that I'm afraid you'll be so
disappointed if - " she broke off, tears in her lovely grey eyes.
"I'm sorry, honey," he groaned, "I'm trying to take out my own
doubts and frustrations on you. Sometimes I even wonder if we should have got
married at all, your parents were right, you know, you could have done a lot
better."
"Ray Delray, you stop that silly talk! I could never in this world have
done any better. I love you."
They clung to each other wordlessly, but even as their lips were meeting the
inevitable question was drumming through Jeannette's brain, what should I do?
Suppose that she did let John Chandler come here, that she permitted him to make
love to her, it was only a half-hour or so out of a lifetime, and then he would
be committed to keep his promise because once they had done it they were equally
guilty and she could tell his wife. Innocently, Jeannette believed that Laura
must be the reason for driving John Chandler to proposition another woman.
His wife was beautiful and aristocratic, but perhaps there was something lacking
sexually. Only why did he want her, then, when she couldn't even satisfy Ray,
her own husband! No, she couldn't go through with it, not even for Ray's sake.
Just the idea of it turned her stomach, another man, inside her, no, no, no.
Ray went to the bank and was well received by Lee Sanderson, who immediately
passed the news on to Chandler after the visit. Ray was told the loan would be
taken under consideration, although Sanderson looked rather grave when Ray
admitted his only assets were $5500 in his savings account.
"What about your folks?" Lee questioned, "Haven't any of 'em got
some property or something they could put up for you?"
"The only property my folks have already has a mortgage on it," Ray
admitted. "Everybody's not rich like your family, you know."
"Well, I want you to know that I'm going to do the best I can for you,
Ray," Sanderson said, shaking hands. "I'll be in touch with you."
He ushered Ray to the door of his luxurious office as if he were the bank's most
valued depositor and the gesture made the young pharmacist feel somewhat better
about his prospects, not knowing, of course, that his wife's assets - namely,
her appealing young body - were going to be the deciding factor.
And so they waited to hear from the bank, with both Ray and Jeannette growing
more edgy every day. John Chandler was disappointed that he had not heard from
the young Mrs. Delray, maybe she was going to be tougher than he had figured.
Goddamn, he did hate to lose a bet!
Lee Sanderson was pestering him about it every day. "I have to tell him
something soon, John. What do you want me to do?" It looked like a little
push was needed to get things moving in the right direction again and so he
instructed his brother-in-law to stall just a few more days and in the meantime
to invite the Delrays to the party that was being given at the Country Club on
Saturday night. Although they were not leaving for Florida for at least another
month, the party was in the nature of a going away affair for John and Laura.
Accordingly, Lee telephoned Ray at the drug store and gave him the invitation
and Ray took it to be a good sign that he and his wife were being included.
To his amazement, Jeannette did not share this enthusiasm. She did not even want
to go, and they quarreled again before she abruptly gave in and agreed. Ray felt
he would never understand his northern wife, particularly when she began to take
great pains in getting ready for the party, getting her hair done and shortening
an old long formal that she'd had in college into a cocktail dress. It was
simply made of light green lace, sleeveless and with plunging necklines in both
front and back, a great deal more sophisticated than the styles she usually
wore.
Magnolia was too small to support a country club, but many of the local people
were active in the one at the county seat and for this evening, at least,
Magnolia natives seemed to dominate the crowd so that the Delrays saw more
familiar faces than they had expected. Several tables had been pushed together
in one corner of the large main room and they were welcomed into a group that
was already quite lively when they arrived at nine-thirty.
Jeannette's eyes were drawn irresistibly to the table where the Sandersons sat.
Oh, God, he'd seen her and was staring back! John Chandler's light blue eyes ran
all over her figure appraisingly. Then he nodded and raised his glass to her in
a mock toast. Jeannette sat down, her cheeks blazing, and tried not to look
again. Lee Sanderson had seen her entrance, too, and he leaned over to whisper
in his brother-in-law's ear, "Still think you can fuck her?" Chandler
smiled and made a little circle of his thumb and forefinger. Shortly afterward
he got up and made his way to where the Delrays were sitting, greeted Ray
effusively and asked Jeannette to dance. She got up stiffly and joined him.
"You're lookin' mighty pretty tonight, Jeannette," he commented,
immediately pulling her close in an intimate dancing position. "All the
local girls are jealous."
"I am a local girl," she pointed out coldly.
"Well, 'course you are, and I hope you stay one, but I forget that
sometimes. You haven't been really initiated as a local girl yet," he
chuckled, "How come I haven't heard from you? I though we were going to get
together."
"Mr. Chandler, please," Jeannette fought to retain her composure.
"My husband is here, your wife is here - how can you go on that way?"
"Why, honey, they don't know we aren't talking about the weather and the
football game same as everybody else! Don't push away from me like that, I like
to feel those tits of yours right up against me. First time I ever saw you, I
noticed what a pair of beauties you had."
Jeannette stumbled and missed a step, but he held her so tightly that no one
even noticed. She felt as though her whole body was dissolving in shame, good
God, she had to go on dancing with him and listening to the flood of obscenity,
she couldn't make a scene here!
"Wait till I get you alone," the husky voice went on, "and get
your clothes off. I want to suck those tits, I bet they taste just like
honey!" To her absolute horror, Jeannette found that the very shocking
lewdness of his words was arousing her breasts, she could actually feel them
swelling and the nipples stiffening, right through the filmy lace of her dress.
In her entire life no one had ever spoken to her as he was doing, certainly not
her husband, Ray! "And you got something else that's just like
honey...."
The music went on and on and the numb girl allowed herself to be guided along in
the loathsome arms of John Chandler, braced for whatever filthy thing was coming
next. Her whole body tingled from the stunning surprise of hearing words she had
seen only on lavatory walls and which could not help but arouse erotic thoughts
in the most chaste girl by their very lewd suggestiveness,
"When do I get into the honey pot, Jeannette? Come on, I've got something
here I want to stick in your cunt, can you feel it?" he slid his hand down
her back until it rested below her waist, and forcefully propelled her hips
toward the lower part of his body. The rigid bulk of his penis seared into her
stomach like a branding iron,
"No!" she exclaimed, so loudly that nearby couples heard the
exclamation and turned their heads curiously. Chandler relaxed his grip and let
his hand return to the proper position, he didn't want to go too far, she was a
jumpy little bitch, just far enough so that she got the message loud and clear.
He had by now worked her to the far end of the room from where their mates were
sitting.
"There's not much time left," he warned her, "If you still want
your husband to get the store. I would say, in fact, there's only a few days
left. Shall we make an appointment?"
"No," she said dully, unable to think clearly for the emotions that
were swirling through every raw nerve end of her body, "I - I can't. What
you're asking is impossible. I have never - never been with another man besides
my husband. Why won't you let me alone? Find someone else, please!"
"Then I'll give you only a few more hours," he said angrily. "You
let me know your decision tonight, before you leave here."
"I told you no."
"I'll ask you just one more time," he promised grimly.
By the time he had returned her to her chair beside Ray, Jeannette was limp and
drained of feeling. She had known they shouldn't come, when she heard it was a
party for the Sandersons, and now it was turning out to be a further nightmare.
But Ray had not noticed a thing, he was actually enjoying himself, having a few
drinks under his belt by now.
Groping for reassurance, Jeannette reached over and put her hand timidly on
Ray's knee. He turned to her, beaming at this unusual display of affection.
"Here, honey, here's your drink. Maybe it's too weak now, the ice melted
while you were dancing."
"No, it'll be fine," she seized the glass gratefully and swallowed the
pungent bourbon and cola mix. Ordinarily she did not care for hard liquor, but
Jeannette sensed she was going to need something to get her through this
evening. After the second drink she began to warm and relax slightly. John
Chandler stayed with his friends, and the younger crowd around her and Ray's
table was quite enjoyable to be with. She loved to see Ray having a good time,
it was the first evening in ages that he'd gotten out like this, probably the
last time they would be with these local people, too. She supposed that when the
new owners took over the drugstore, or before, her husband would start looking
for another job. God, what if it should be another place like Magnolia, maybe
worse? The thing was, she was at last beginning to feel some slight sense of
belonging here and getting acquainted. If they owned the store, if they could
build the house in Hickory Acres, it wouldn't be at all bad! They could join
this country club and Ray would be able to play golf, she would take part in
garden clubs or something.
Someone else asked Jeannette to dance and when she returned to the table her
third drink was waiting. She finished it, and later there was more, never had
she had so much to drink in one night; she was probably in for a hangover in the
morning, but at last she was really enjoying herself, having a good time! Much,
much later they began drinking sentimental toasts to the Sandersons - and Laura
Chandler stood up and made a drunken, tearful speech about leaving Magnolia for
the first time in her life, even though she would always keep her home here,
"mah fam'ly place," as she put it. She had to lean on her brother and
her husband to keep from falling as she swayed gracefully back and forth and
rambled on, liquor spilling from her glass to splash over her expensive dress.
"She's plastered!" Jeannette whispered to Ray, shocked. He grinned at
her.
"Darling, she's usually plastered, from what I hear."
What a shame, Jeannette thought, such a beautiful woman and so well kept up. She
has to be past forty, but her figure is still great, is it being married to that
horrible man that makes her drink? When she finally ran out of words, Laura sat
down abruptly - not in her own chair, but on her husband's lap. She flung her
arms around him and kissed him in a passionate way that drew whistles from the
onlookers and made Jeannette feel uncomfortable. Later Laura was circulating
among the tables, kissing all the men and the women too and promising to write
to everyone from Florida. When it was Ray's turn she rumpled his black hair and
kissed him full on the lips in a provocative way that Jeannette excused only
because of Laura's obvious condition. But when Ray asked her to dance, it was
the last number, she found her own condition was not much better and was
grateful to lean against her husband's tall form and let him pilot her over the
dance floor. Suddenly she heard a well-remembered husky voice and found that Ray
was disentangling her arms from his neck. John Chandler had cut in on them!
All the liquor she had consumed was racing through her blood, and Jeannette
could not for the life of her remember, ah, yes, he wanted to ask her something.
She let herself be pressed against his bulky frame, her stomach rubbing his,
breasts mashed against his hard rib cage. His fingers played at the slit in the
back of her dress where it was open nearly to the waist. He did not seem so
repulsive now, he was quiet and not saying those awful things which had upset
her before. His big hands were almost gentle, she must keep her wits, this was
very important, very important to Ray. Darling Ray was so happy tonight, she
must help him get the store so that they could go on living here and he would
always be happy just as he was now!
"Jeannette," Chandler's voice was calm, insistent, "I'll be at
your place Monday. I'm damned if I could wait another day. I'll see that Ray has
to go to Camden, don't worry about a thing, baby, nobody will know. Monday
afternoon."
"I can't," she shook her head, her words slurring slightly, "I
can't do it to Ray!"
"You're doing it for him, remember? I told you, I'll ask you one more time.
This is it - shall I come on Monday?"
"Oh, God," the poor girl's head was spinning. What to say? What to do?
She must help Ray. "Yes," she breathed, "C-come on Monday."
Her head slumped forward wearily on his shoulder, eyes nearly closed. Her long
brown hair, escaping from the careful hair styling of this afternoon, tumbled
down her back. Over the brown curls, Chandler saw his brother-in-law dancing
toward him. The eyes of the two men met for an instant and Chandler winked
broadly.
Jeannette did not remember the ride home at all, or being undressed and put to
bed by her husband. The next thing, she remembered, in fact, was waking on
Sunday afternoon with a truly ghastly hangover. Ray seemed to think it was
funny, but he took tender care of his wife, bringing her coffee, and ice to put
on her throbbing head. That evening, when she had recovered sufficiently to sit
in the living room, he teased her about getting high.
"You were the life of the party, honey, dancing with everybody. Good thing
I'm not the jealous type."
"Huh! I seem to remember Laura Chandler slobbering all over you."
"Well, her old man made up for it, cut in on the very last dance. Oh, you
were a big hit, Mrs. Delray."
Then she remembered it all and the walls seemed to fall in on her! He was coming
here, Monday, tomorrow. She had made a cheap, back street rendezvous with her
husband's boss, in her husband's own home. He couldn't hold her to it, she'd
been drunk, and Jeannette had no intention of going through with her part of the
lewd arrangement. "I've got something you need, and you've got something I
can use."
As one often does, she simply refused to think about the unthinkable and blocked
the whole thing off in a dark corner of her mind as though it might just go away
by wishing. Her vital young body snapped back quickly from the effects of her
overindulgence at the party, and on Monday morning she rose early and did the
washing and ironing. Then she fixed Ray's lunch. He came upstairs promptly at
twelve and ate hurriedly.
"Honey, I've got to go to Camden this afternoon," he said, munching
the tossed salad she had prepared.
"Camden? How come?" A cold chill gripped her.
"Chandler called, wants me to go to the wholesale house, and then he asked
me to run a couple of personal errands for him - stuff for the farm. I'm leaving
right away and I should get back by five, that way I can make up any
prescriptions that come in."
"I could go with you," she said, "Maybe see a movie or just look
around the stores?"
He frowned. "Don't you have a piano lesson?"
"Oh, yes, of course, well," she smiled bravely, "another
time."
"Got to run," he pushed his chair back, gave his wife a quick hug and
kissed her. Jeannette watched the car drive away and then, moving like a robot
she went to the telephone.
"Mrs. Hearldson? This is Jeannette Delray. I wonder if Cynthia would mind
switching her piano lesson to tomorrow afternoon? Is that convenient? Then I'll
look for her after school tomorrow. Yes, goodbye." She went into the living
room and sat down to wait. Crazily, it occurred to her that maybe she ought to
dress for the occasion. What did one wear, a negligee, black stockings with lace
garters? Oh, God!
Jeannette never drank in the daytime, but if ever in her life she needed a drink
it was now and she went to the kitchen and fixed herself a stiff one. At
one-thirty, when she was on her second drink, the doorbell rang, one short,
sharp ring. She went down immediately and opened the door.
The big German Shepherd bounded in ahead of his master and brushed against
Jeannette's unsteady legs, tail wagging.
"Hello, Jeannette," John Chandler said, "you doin' all right? You
don't mind if Drake comes in, it's mighty hot for him to sit in the car?"
"No, I-let him come in." She was rather relieved to have the dog
there, it seemed that she was not complete alone with Chandler that way. Drake
bounded up the stairs with Jeannette following and Chandler behind her, his eyes
fixed on the undulating spheres of her asscheeks as they moved in rhythmic
rotation under her dress. Jesus, he was going to enjoy this one. It had been a
lot of trouble to set up, but he was almost home, in a matter of minutes he
would be all the way home, fucking the hell out of that sweet little cunt. His
cock was jumping already.
She led the unwanted guest into the living room where the drapes had been closed
against the mid-day sun and the radio played softly, masking the sounds of
traffic below on the square. "Will you have a drink?" she asked
formally, her hands twitching nervously.
"Don't mind if I do, if you'll join me." Her husband's boss eased his
bulk onto the low couch, and she brought the drinks a few seconds later. The ice
cubes rattled as she handed him his glass. When she turned to seat herself in a
chair, Chandler seized her by the wrist and pulled her down on the couch beside
him.
"Just relax," he urged her gently. "What are you so scared of,
Jeannette? The world ain't coming to an end." Even at this point he knew
she had to be handled carefully, the whole thing could still blow up in his
face. But he had never failed to score with any woman he really set his sights
on and he would be goddamned if this prissy New England bitch was going to spoil
his record. He circled her trembling shoulders with his arm, setting his drink
on the coffee table, and tilted her pale face toward him. Jeannette's innocent
grey eyes pleaded mutely for mercy as he pulled her closer and closer until
their lips met with a galvanizing shock. It was a strange kiss, unlike any Ray
had ever given her. John Chandler seemed to be tasting her lips and mouth,
licking lasciviously at her and transferring the distinctive flavor of bourbon
from his lips to hers. Breathless at his aggression, Jeannette wriggled
backwards against the cushions of the davenport. His large handsome face blotted
out everything else from her vision.
"You're a beauty," he muttered, "and I've wanted you for a long
time. Am I so repulsive, Jeannette? Why are you shrinking away from me like
that?"
She felt his hand come to rest on her tensely quivering stomach and the contact,
felt right through her light cotton dress, sent a curious near thrill surging
through her.
"N-no," she admitted, "you're not repulsive, Mr. Chandler,
but...."
"John..." he corrected, moving his arm to encircle her small waist.
"John. Please, I beg you,"
He cut off the words by completely engulfing her soft wet mouth again in his own
lips, his tongue thrusting out lizard like to force its way between her teeth,
and a wild shiver of emotion rippled through her. His big hands felt hot as they
began to move over her.
Oh, God, this was it! She continued to push and struggle against him but only
for a moment until she realized the futility of it and simply let herself relax
and her mouth fall open to the lewd probings of his tongue. Her entire body now
slumped against him as his right hand found, and covered her large uptilted
breast.
"Ooooh," she moaned and he smiled confidently.
"You're going to love it, honey," he promised, his hands now moving
faster in their thorough exploration of the hollows of her supple body while he
continued to lap at her face with his rapacious tongue.
Lord, she was alive all over with wanton sensation! Suddenly his mouth and hands
roaming lewdly over her had set her on fire, Ray, oh, Ray, come back, I need you
now! His hand was on her bare knee, traveling upward to her thigh, stroking the
sensitive inner flesh of her thigh! Oh, God help her, she didn't mind it there,
she was even liking it, actually craving the soft pressing warmth that was
coming ever closer, closer.
This was wrong, completely wrong! What was she thinking of, she mustn't let this
man do these forbidden things to her. She knew she couldn't go through with it,
it was too emotionally wracking, and she had to stop him now, before it was too
late!
Jeannette sat up straight, shoving against John Chandler's broad chest in a
futile effort to loosen his grip on her. "No, I can't," she half
sobbed, "I'm sorry, I know I let you think that I - but I simply can't go
through with it. You may have no principles, but I have."
"Principles, hell!" he snorted at her. "Why, you conceited little
bitch, you want to know what's wrong with you? You're scared to death that
you're going to like gettin' fucked by Big John!"
The helpless, demoralized young girl gasped, staring up into his steely blue
eyes. The horrible part of it was that there might be a small grain of truth in
his horrid suggestion, she had for a moment felt something stir inside her, a
shiver of anticipation when his hand had rested between her legs.
"An' you are gonna like it," he murmured lazily, resuming his perusal
of her quivering hot thighs. Slowly and gradually, while his hand slipped up and
down the creamy soft flesh, he worked her backward until she lay stretched out
beneath him on the davenport. He pushed his fingers far up between her fearfully
quivering legs and gently rubbed against the flimsy nylon panties that protected
her cringing pussy.
"Please, John, no," she groaned even as she flung her arms tight
around his neck and let her soft wet mouth fall open to him even as her legs
were opening wider and wider as the sensual torment of his hand instigated a
rush of prurient emotion through her loins. She was aware that he was burrowing
under the thin elastic leg-band of her panties and she whimpered in paralyzed
distress.
Then, dear God, he was inside!
His long thick finger was parting the moistly, palpitating slit of her vagina
and she tried to cringe away but there was no escape from the lewdly invading
finger even though she scratched ineffectually at his massive shoulders and
whined in disbelief that this could actually be happening to her, here in her
own living room. The probing finger worked deeper and deeper inside her moistly
clinging cuntal lips and Jeannette quivered in debased excitement. She sensed
the warm wetness that was gathering inside her and seeping out to dampen his
finger as it played with her sensitive vaginal slit and spread the soft pubic
hair away from the tiny opening. The poor young wife could not stifle the sigh
of pleasure that escaped from her throat as he touched the tiny erect button of
her clit and let his middle finger linger there until she squirmed
uncontrollably with the unwelcome passion that he was inevitably arousing in
her.
The utter hopelessness of her situation was plain to Jeannette. Torn by worry
for her husband, she had allowed herself to make this appointment with his boss,
John Chandler. She'd been quite drunk at the time, but that was no excuse, and
now he was here to claim his end of the unholy bargain, he was, claiming it,
taking her bodily! There was nothing she could do but let him finish, let him
make love to her in any way he chose, just as a whore must please her clients!
To add to her total humiliation, instead of getting the obscene act over with
quickly, he was playing with her and to her own shame she was letting him arouse
her with his taunting finger thrusts up into her vagina, to the point that her
hips were twisting back and forth involuntarily as he stroked the hotly awakened
slit up between her legs.
"That's better," he leaned over her, grinning lewdly. "You're
getting nice and wet down there now. Let's get your clothes off, honey, I think
you're almost ready to fuck."
His casual use of the obscene word made her tense inwardly, but at the same time
it invoked a strange new excitement in her as she realized that no one had ever
dared take the liberty of speaking to her this way before and the shock could
not help but send little ripples of lewd agitation through her body.
He let her sit up to remove her clothing, which she did automatically with an
almost fatalistic acceptance of the situation. He helped her pull her dress over
her head and then gave his attention to taking his own clothes off. She could
not, however, bring herself to pull away the damp pair of panties which had
protected her delicate pubic area from his lustful eyes if not from his groping
fingers. Breathing hard and audibly, he gasped with a quick intake of breath as
he looked up and saw her full, high-set breasts with the hard little pink
nipples exposed. His hands went out to enclose and fondle the ripe, succulent
flesh, kneading the pliant creamy skin and pinching the nipples to a state of
even greater erectness. Finally he bent his head down to her excitedly heaving
chest and took one pink nipple into his hot, wet mouth and sucked it hungrily,
flicking his thick tongue in a maddening way against the tiny sensitive tip of
the nipple. In a leisurely way, he moved to the other breast, cupping it
underneath with his palm while his wet lips assaulted the hard, throbbing
nipple, then, while his hands continued to manipulate her achingly full breasts
he let his lips slide down the deep cleft between them and move slowly toward
her navel. When he encountered the brief nylon protection of her panties he
simply hooked his thumbs in the narrow waistband and jerked them downward. As
the cool air rushed over her secret parts that were now fully revealed to this
gross lecher, Jeannette moaned with shame and horror but extended her long slim
legs so that he could draw the panties down, down and toss them away.
"Jesus H. Christ!" the drugstore owner exclaimed with something akin
to reverence as his greedy eyes feasted at last on the shadowed triangular patch
of her cuntal hair. Jeannette opened her eyes which she had kept tightly
clenched shut during the last several minutes.
He towered above her, one knee on the couch, one hairy muscular leg planted on
the floor. Below the slight bulge of his stomach the massively rigid pole of his
desire hardened penis swung straight out from his loins.
"Oh God," she moaned, her eyes widening in disbelief while he smiled
down at her in salacious enjoyment of her amazement. His hand began a lewd
stroking motion of the thick uncircumcised foreskin popping the huge,
blood-engorged head out at her with its tiny slit winking like some evil eye.
"That dumb husband of yours hasn't got anything like this, has he,
honey?" he teased the debased young bride as she cowered away from the
sight of the powerful cock. "I bet nobody ever stretched that tight little
cunt of yours. Oh, just wait till I get it up into your little belly, you're
gonna beg me to let you have all of it." He was obviously relishing her
terror with a near-sadistic joy as he proudly stroked his fleshy instrument.
Dear God, she could never take a thing like that in her! He would kill her if he
tried!
She scarcely, heard his lewd boasting, her mind was too full of the knowledge of
her hopeless position, he was going to ravish her, appeals for mercy would be
useless, she was sure, for her degradation was only inciting him to further
obscenities. Alone with him, naked and spread out obscenely for his pleasure,
there was absolutely no escape, no relief, she was lost!
Chandler place a hand on each of her knees and deliberately began to force them
apart, opening her fearfully cringing genitals completely to his lustful gaze.
"Wider," he ordered, chuckling softly, "open 'em up wider, you
got a big man coming in there, honey, with a big cock to ram in that sweet
little pussy!"
The petrified young wife whimpered in fright as her husband's boss climbed onto
the davenport and knelt up between her outstretched legs. She felt the springs
groan under his weight as he lowered his massive, naked body toward her.
"Ray," she half sobbed, "Oh, oh, oh Ray."
The expected entry did not come immediately, however, and Jeannette lifted her
head to look down over her quivering breasts and see John Chandler's massive
bulk crouched over her. He was sliding backward, crab-like, over her naked body
until his head was positioned over her widespread thighs and with sudden horror
it dawned on the girl what he had in mind. She cringed in terror.
"Oh no, please, I can't, I never have!" she pleaded, with her
husband's employer, her horrified grey eyes fixed on his head that was dropping
lower and lower as his big hands spread the white inner sides of her thighs yet
further open. "Oh, my God, not like that, not like that," she moaned.
Chandler's breath came in excited pants that stirred the sparse, light brown
pubic hair which fringed the narrow cuntal slit, pink and wet with the moisture
of the innocent young bride's unwanted arousal. Her disgrace complete, she lay
as if transfixed, her eyes still mutely begging him not to commit this unnatural
act upon her defenseless body. With a decisive, unhurried movement he pulled
apart the two fleshy cuntlips that guarded the inner sanctum of her femininity,
and feasted his lusting eyes on the coral pink pussy flesh.
Jeannette felt the warm expulsion of his breath waft over her secret, sensitive
vagina and she gasped as, her head still raised, she saw his long tongue emerge
from his mouth and then, seconds later, felt its hotly electric contact against
her cringing young pussy.
Her stomach jumped and her whole body jerked in disbelief as his strong,
pressing tongue forced its way up into the quivering channel of her openly
defenseless cunt. Faster and faster, the tormenting instrument of her debasement
slid in and out of her unwilling pussy that was automatically dilating to
receive the invading tongue despite her horror at the outrage he was committing
on her innocent body.
"Uuuuggghhh, no, my God!" she moaned in utter humiliation as she
continued to watch her unnatural ravishment by his bestial mouth. This could
not, simply must not, be happening! It was some nightmare, she thought, as his
long wet tongue slithered furiously up into her moist, velvety cuntal slit.
"Stop it, John, God, I can't stand it, please, stop?" she entreated
him, choking with shame as she perceived with even further horror that unwelcome
quivers of lewd enjoyment were beginning to radiate through her subjugated body
from his depraved assault on her warmly throbbing cunt.
His hands suddenly slid under her firm asscheeks that were desperately grinding
into the cushions of the couch in a useless effort to escape the obscene
ravishment he was inflicting upon her. With his big fingers spread wide, he
cupped and squeezed her tender flesh, separating the twin ass cheeks almost
brutally while with his mouth and tongue he continued to lick obscenely at the
gaping pink split between her legs with lewd wet smacking sounds. She saw that
he was looking expectantly at her tear streaked face and knew that he was
watching for her reaction and complete surrender to his animal like conquest of
her proud, moral nature. That he would not get, she was determined; although in
her trapped position she was forced to accept his abuse, he could not control
her mind! Oh, Ray, darling, I'm doing it for you, but I pray that this won't
change everything between us, I never thought it would be like this, or that
John Chandler would be such a sadistic beast as to degrade me in this
humiliating way, God, what was happening to her was already beyond the wildest
fears of her imagination, yet there was nothing to do but lie there while he
sucked with insane fervor at her traitorously acquiescing vagina and try to keep
her suddenly treacherous, unfamiliar body from responding to the unexpected
blissful excitement he was awakening in her.
Her husband had once hinted he would like to have sex with her in this depraved
way, but she had immediately rejected his tentative suggestion as beyond the
limits of decency, marital or otherwise. She had not known it would feel like
this, how could she?
As he labored over her, unceasingly thrusting his tireless tongue far up into
her warmly pulsating vagina, John Chandler gloated over the successful outcome
of his conquest. What a fabulous piece she was! Even tear streaked and
contorted, her face was still pretty and as for her supple, youthful body, it
was a thing of beauty that he was going to get a real kick out of fucking. For
all her chilliness, there was a hot streak in her just waiting to be uncovered
and stimulated into raw passion. Ruthlessly, his lips explored the moistened
folds of her clinging vaginal lips until they settled on the tiny erect bud of
her clit. Jeannette gasped in shocked pleasure as he enclosed the throbbing
little sensation center with his teeth and laved his hungry tongue over it in
circles until she cried out with involuntary wild happiness and thrashed her
hips from side to side in uncontrollable lewd excitement. Finally, he let his
tongue slide downward again, into the seething wet crevice of her vagina. He
fucked her orally, thrusting his thick hot tongue up into the widely dilated
slit while she whimpered and mewled in cadence with his lewd swirling movements
around the inner walls of the soft, hair-fringed cuntal lips.
Her bursting groans of pleasure filled the living room and the big German
Shepherd sat alertly watching the obscene movements of the naked pair on the
couch. As Chandler thrust ever deeper into the velvety warm depths between the
young housewife's legs, he saw Jeannette's small hands twisting in their
desperate struggle and then abruptly give in and move toward him involuntarily
until her fingers locked in his thick hair and pulled him further and further
into her greedily clasping pussy.
He had her now! She was hopelessly entrapped by her own awakened and unfulfilled
desires, ready to be taken by him in any way he wanted to do it.
Jeannette, too, knew that her body was no longer responding to the dictates of
her outraged mind but was on an uncharted course of its own, God, what could she
do, nothing! Her asscheeks were jerking rhythmically with the thrusts of John's
tongue as he sent spasms of erotic sensation such as she had never dreamed
existed through her love hungry body. Suddenly, without warning, his tongue
darted downward toward the forbidden, puckered little hole of her anus. She
gasped with shock, but the gasp trailed into a rapturous moan of surprised bliss
at the maddening contact of his pleasure giving tongue against the sensitive,
secret opening. She wriggled ecstatically in the grip of sensual emotion that
traveled headlong through her entire being.
"Oh don't," she protested, "not that, my God, don't," but
her hips rotated automatically with the effort to force her agonized ass up
against the hard thrusting tongue.
Laughing to himself, he continued his demoralizing assault on the tight little
hole of her anus as she thrashed under him in utter degradation, unable to
control the involuntary quivers of her asscheeks as the delicious but unwelcome
pleasure rippled wildly through her.
"Dear God, please, John," she groaned, raising her head to plead with
her sodomizer as he labored up between her cruelly stretched thighs,
"Please stop!" she begged him, realizing with horror that she had
completely lost control of herself and was at his mercy, a mere object to be
humiliated and further disgraced, ruined. But it was useless to appeal; he
licked insanely on and on at her gaping wet loins until the unbelievable
pleasure had reduced the young bride to a state of raw, pulsating passion that
was beyond the bounds of any reason or thought of right or wrong. She knew,
dimly, that she was committing adultery, but she could no longer fight the lover
who was giving her an intense physical rapture that she had never before felt or
even dreamed could exist in this world.
"Oooooh, ooooh, John, it feels so good!" The shameful admission burst
from her tortured lips before she could choke it back. "It feels so good,..
oh, my God, more, more!" she begged him, thrusting her hips upward while
her fingers again twisted in his hair and she pulled his head even closer to the
openly throbbing slit of her vagina. She was wild with excitement and the insane
desire for more of this incredibly enchanting sensation.
John Chandler grinned sadistically as he plunged his lizard like tongue into the
seething depths of her cunt while she pushed hard up against his face in total
subjugation to his will. Her soft brownish pussy hair grazed his cheeks as her
asscheeks rolled in rhythmic spasms of carnal joy and her passion distorted
features revealed how completely he had broken down her pride and self-respect.
Christ, he was going to get a kick out of this, screwing the hell out of her
pliant young body. He was going to ram his rock thick ten-inch prick all the way
into that hot, wriggling little belly and shoot her full of sperm until she
yelled her head off. Goddamn, it was going to be good!
Jeannette thought she would go stark raving mad with delight from his wildly
licking tongue that was sending ever widening circles of eroticism through her
naked belly and loins. Breathlessly, she looked down at his head held in her
little hands as she pulled the hot lash of his strong tongue deeper inside her
and it swirled around the clasping walls of her desire soaked vagina. It felt so
wonderful she hoped it would never, never stop, but, it was stopping, he was
withdrawing the instrument of her pleasure from her, she looked up at him,
suddenly aware again of the humiliation of her position and the way he had
debased her.
"You're nice and hot now, honey," he chuckled huskily, "all ready
to be fucked, oh, you're never going to forget this, little girl, I'm going to
fuck you til you can't walk."
The helpless wife lay on the couch paralyzed, her knees raised and her seething
pussy spread unceremoniously wide open to him, her heaving breasts quivering
with suddenly raised goosebumps as she stared at the rigidly erect cock
extending from his loins like a massive club. It seemed to swell to even greater
dimensions as she gaped at it in horrified disbelief.
"No, please," she shuddered, yet felt tingles of unwanted excitement
in her loins as he moved deliberately up over her and bent his head over her
breasts, seizing a nipple between his teeth and nipping the hard little bud
painfully so that she groaned with the sudden hurt that at the same time caused
further fluttering tremors of delight in her churning belly.
"All right, Jeannette," he hissed at her. "Now I'm going to fuck
you until you beg me for it. Take my cock and put it right in that hot, tight
little cunt of yours," he ordered.
Jeannette winced at the impact of the obscene words. Fuck, cock, God, she could
not help but be excited against her will by the very startling sound of such
coarse terms, but she must not let herself be excited in this salacious way. If
she could no longer control her body, she had to at least keep this lecher from
subjugating her mind and thoughts. Dear God, everything was lost if she,
"Come on," he snapped impatiently, "I said take my cock and put
it up in your cunt." His eyes were inflamed with unholy lust as he gloated
down at the innocent young girl.
"Oh, John, don't ask me, no, I can't," she sobbed in her humiliation,
yet moved her unwilling hand down until it was only inches from the monstrous
penis. Tears ran down her lovely, contorted face and she shook her head in shame
and fear.
"You dumb little cunt!" he snarled. "Do what I tell you, bitch,
put it in!"
"Oh, my God," she moaned, touching his throbbing cock and then
enclosing its bulk in her little hand, God, it was big, bigger even than it had
looked, warm and rigid in her fingers.
Chandler began to lower his hips while Jeannette spread her legs even wider
apart and slowly drew the heavy shaft toward the tiny, wet hole of her vagina.
With the smooth, thick head she penetrated the cringing folds of her pussy, her
heart pounding with both dread and anticipation. She shivered at the first touch
of the rubbery, bulbous tip against the sensitive edges of her moistened vagina.
She hesitated, unable to go on, and he shoved his hips forward causing an
instant, sharp pain as the hard member strained against the tight entrance of
her vaginal channel.
"Aaaaaghhh," she groaned and he pushed harder, forcing the ponderous
tip through the elastic opening and cruelly stretching her tender cuntal flesh.
The pain was unbearable! "Aaaaggghhh, God, it's too big! Please, you're
tearing me, please, God!" she choked and screamed at him to stop, but he
only grinned with sadistic, evil pleasure at the discomfort he was inflicting on
her and deliberately continued his slow, torturing entry into her, unwilling
pussy.
"Ooooohh, oh God," Jeannette wailed as the lust thickened cudgel
slipped up into her, inch by agonizing inch. Then, suddenly overcome by his
mounting desire, the insensitive businessman tired of watching her cringing body
trying to take his oversized penis, and he pushed forward with one brutal
stroke, ramming his long, swollen cock up into her unstretched passage with pile
driving force.
"Aggggghhhh!" Jeannette screamed as the blood engorged tip forced
aside the tightly clinging walls of her pussy and raced unendingly up into her
covering belly until his hairy, sperm filled balls struck her rounded, tight
clenched asscheeks with a dull obscene sounding smack.
"Ooooh, God,!" she groaned. He had torn her apart, she was sure, and
she dared not move for fear of further injury to her aching vagina. She was
full, her whole belly full with his cock, she could feel it all the way up
inside her to her womb.
Grimacing with satisfaction, he lay heavily on her for a moment, breathing hard,
then he moved his cock forward deep inside her yet another fraction of an inch,
bringing a tortured gasp from her lips. He did it again and again, enjoying her
shamed, agonized groans until they began to change, unmistakably, to whimpers of
a more sensual nature. Her passage had gradually adjusted itself to the
unnatural size of his blood hardened cock and as he rocked back and forth over
her, forcing his penis to new depths, she could not seem to control the sounds
which burst from deep in her chest.
He raised himself over her prostrate, spread-eagled body as she whined
helplessly under him, and he said with lascivious satisfaction, "Now tell
me you want it, Jeannette. Beg me for it."
She stared up at him endeavoring to resist the lewd suggestion as her hips began
to wriggle involuntarily and of their own volition. Her eyes pleaded with him to
spare her this ultimate degradation.
"No, please, John, isn't this enough?"
"Damn it, I said beg me! Come on, ask me to fuck you, tell me you want
it!"
"Oh, God, why, why do you need that, too?" He was taking everything
from her - pride, morals, all of it!
"I want to hear you beg, you stuck up little bitch! Beg!"
"A-all right," she sighed hopelessly, "Do it to me, I - I want
you to do it to me."
"Not like that. Say 'fuck.' Ask me to fuck you!"
"Fuck me, Oh God, yes, yes, fuck me!" she almost screamed it at him
through her clenched teeth and tear-streaked her face as she uttered the
unforgivably obscene word. Her capitulation to his demands was complete, she
only waited now for whatever was coming, unable to reason or think or feel
anything beyond the big throbbing cock that was buried in her tender belly.
As he resumed his thrusting motions up into her with smooth, short strokes, she
abandoned her earlier determination to fight the salacious pleasure that was
again threatening to engulf her treacherous body, she was too weary and sick
with remorse to struggle any more, she wanted to be carried along on the crest
of the rolling waves of excitement that followed each plunge of his cock into
her tightly clasping pussy. And as he gradually increased his pace as well as
the length of his strokes, Jeannette felt herself going, going along with him,
her entire body tingling as she squirmed under him on the couch. He dropped his
open mouth to her face, licking at her lust-contorted features, and she captured
his tongue between her lips and sucked at it hungrily while she mewled, kitten
like, in debased acceptance of all that he was doing to her. She pushed her hips
up from the couch cushions to meet his downward plunges and give him still
deeper entry into her steaming cunt.
John Chandler saw that she was perspiring now and that the cords of her neck
stood out as her head whipped from side to side in rhythm with the sensuous
twists of her round asscheeks. Guttural humming noises slipped from deep down in
her throat. He knew damn good and well that Ray Delray hadn't been getting
anything like this out of his prissy young wife, no, and her husband hadn't been
putting anything into her like the cock that was in her now, either! Man, how
she could move that ass as she drove her naked cunt right up against his cock as
if she wanted to swallow it. Christ, she was tight, nobody'd ever stretched her
good, it felt like, she was the next thing to a virgin, and it was driving him
right up the wall, fucking her like this!
Her long brown hair streamed out from her wildly bobbing head as Jeannette
thrust her twitching legs out on either side of his thighs, forcing her own
thighs still wider open to be skewered ever deeper on the rigidly impaling rod
of his flesh as it bored into her again and again. Oh, why hadn't anyone ever
told her a man could make you feel like this? As she flung her head backward and
tensed her taut-stretched thighs, ramming her open flowering cunt up hard
against him the intensity of her rapture was nearly unbearable. Don't let it
stop, oh don't let it ever stop! She just hadn't known, wouldn't have believed,
that this could happen, that she could be unwillingly forced to commit adultery
and then that she would enjoy it!
John was plowing into her with ever greater force, pulling his hotly throbbing
cock nearly all the way out of her velvety wet sheath on the backstroke and then
sinking it back into her pussy with jack hammer force until his aching balls
slapped against the tiny, exposed ring of her anus. His cock throbbed with the
tremendous pressure mounting in his sperm swollen balls and he panted hoarsely
in lustful exhilaration, his need for release was so great that he could not
control himself much longer and he pounded into her upthrust cunt with lust
driven fury while she moaned incessantly under him in outright rapture. He
increased his pace while he stared down between her legs at where his cock was
gliding in and out of her hungrily sucking cunt. The feeling was indescribable
as his glistening wet shaft emerged from the clasping, soft hair-lined folds of
her pussy with an obscene wet sucking sound and then disappeared again into the
depths of her soft white belly. He placed his hand on the fleshy lips of her
cunt and began to fondle them, bringing further cries of pleasure from Jeannette
as he felt the muscles of her vagina tighten spasmodically and grip his rigid
cock as if to hold it inside her forever.
Her long white legs jerked upward, toes clenching, Christ, she was almost there!
He sawed into her wildly, shoving her knees upward and back with relentless
pressure until it seemed the seething plane of her pussy would be split wide
open, God, what a woman she was, what a fantastic cunt!
Jeannette's swollen breasts danced heavily with the force of his fucking, the
nipples seeming to expand as she began to jerk and convulse, head thrust
backward until the cords and muscles of her slender neck stood out in rigid
display.
"Oh, oh, oh," she chanted, "Jesus, I feel, I'm going to, oh yes,
now, now, nowwww!"
A gush of warm wetness bathed his thundering cock as he thrust faster and
farther up into her, with every ounce of strength he possessed. The sticky
cuntal secretions bathed and lubricated his massive shaft, and as she contorted
and spasmed under him, wailing as her vaginal lips sucked and pulled at his
lewdly impaling penis, John felt his own boiling hot fluid racing from his lust
bloated balls up the full length of his driving penis with ecstatic force that
racked his big body as it spurted from the tip of his cock deep up into her
vibrating womb and belly. It flowed out in hot torrents that pooled with her own
boiling cum until her delirious wail of joy sank into a murmur of complete and
utter satisfaction. Never, never had Jeannette known anything like this, or
guessed that it was possible to be so filled with pleasure. She had done it only
to keep a bargain, to protect her husband, not expecting that her humiliated
body would be fulfilled as it never had been before.
Now that it was at last over she must cope with the realization of what had been
done to her, and that her husband's boss was still lying atop her satiated body
with his long penis still buried deep in her pulsing vagina.
"Please, John," she tried to control her voice and make it cool and
impersonal, "Take your thing out of me now."
He complied, looking down at her wonderingly as he raised himself off her and
began to look around for his clothing.
"What's the matter with you? Not going to tell me you didn't enjoy
it?"
"I - I enjoyed it," she admitted in a low, reluctant voice. How could
she deny it?
"Good," he smiled. "I always like to satisfy the ladies. Oh,
don't bother putting your clothes on, honey. You're not finished yet."
"W-what do you mean?" Jeannette had begun to rise from her prone
position on the couch, now she paused in dreadful uncertainty. Surely, after the
shattering climax they had reached together, he couldn't be, impossible!
John Chandler was grinning evilly down at the supine young bride. Oh, what a
surprise was in store for the snotty little bitch! "Maybe I forgot to tell
you," he drawled, "but wherever I go, Drake goes, too. Including
ladies' cunts, honey."
"Drake?" Of course, the dog, the dog? For a joke, it was certainly in
bad taste, but what could you expect from such a coarse, vulgar person? She sat
up and swung her bare legs down on the floor.
"Over here, boy," Chandler snapped his fingers and the great German
Shepherd obediently rose and came to his master, tail wagging. And Jeannette
received her first inkling that perhaps it was not a joke, that he might be
seriously suggesting that, that she, she stared, transfixed, at the handsome
animal, the first dim realization that such a thing might be possible
penetrating her reeling brain. She'd heard, she knew such things were done,
shows with girls mating with animals, but surely such perversions could not
exist in the sleepy town of Magnolia, Arkansas! John Chandler, rotten as he was,
would surely not attempt anything so monstrous as that.
"I - I don't feel well," Jeannette murmured unsteadily, "Will you
please leave now, Mr. Chandler?"
"Ah, a few minutes ago it was John, wasn't it, when I had my cock in
you?" She winced at the memory of the event she was determined to forget,
to put behind her forever. "Never mind, honey, Drake here will make you
nice and hot and friendly again. He's quite a dog, as you'll see for yourself in
a moment. Better get down on the floor - you don't want your couch all scratched
up."
"I've done what I promised," the demoralized girl pleaded, "You
can't expect me, I won't do it. Not with a dog!"
"Yes, you will, Jeannette. You have no choice, in your position, because
I'm making it a condition of your husband getting the loan. You can't afford to
lose what you've already made a 'down payment' on, girl, so hurry up and get
down there," he pointed impatiently to the tufted rug and seized her arm,
"Drake's a trained guard dog, by the way, he'll attack anyone that I tell
him to - so just keep that fact in your pretty little head."
"But if I do this, how do I know you won't require, other things? How do I
know I'll ever be free of you?" Too late, Jeannette was beginning to see
clearly how she had entrapped herself in a net of bondage to this man. Why had
she expected him to honor this agreement, a man without honor or principles of
any sort? But, a dog? The very idea of it sent little chills running along her
naked spine and set her still quivering pussy to quaking anew.
Chandler was not used to hearing back talk from his women. He tightened his grip
on her arm and forced her forward, down on her knees beside the couch.
"Don't try to be a smart ass with me," he threatened. "I can ruin
your reputation in this town so fast there won't be a decent woman who'll even
speak to you. Think you're too goddamned good for my dog, eh? Well, smarten up,
he's got a longer pedigree than you have." He nudged Jeannette's soft
asscheeks with his knee and she went down on all fours, helpless tears of shame
and outrage flooding her eyes.
The big man chuckled as he feasted his eyes salaciously on her full mooned
asscheeks and the thin hair fringed slit of her cum drenched cunt glistening
wetly up between the milk white flesh of her thighs. Stroking Drake's glossy
fur, he led the dog forward. As the beast's cold nose nuzzled into the gap of
her thighs, Jeannette jerked wildly and gave a little cry. The galvanizing,
velvety touch sent erotic spasms through her tensely waiting body. God, it felt
like, like nothing else in the world, she supposed, as Drake sniffed at her
vagina in the way he would sniff any bitch dog and she knelt before him with her
widespread asscheeks lewdly elevated. She looked back between her legs and
moaned audibly as she saw the handsome dog's shiny, scarlet penis suddenly
poking out of its furry sheath. Oh God, the animal's testicles were nearly the
size of a man's, and almost black. With a leaping motion, Drake mounted her, his
great paws slipping and scratching against her smooth back as his haunches
curved obscenely over her asscheeks and the tapered red tip of his penis bobbed,
dripping, at her hot wet crevice. The very forbiddenness and unthinkable aspects
of what was happening to her could not help but arouse Jeannette's prurient
emotions. Instinctively, without realizing what she was trying to do, she
shifted her asscheeks in an effort to seize the long, scarlet organ and clasp it
in the blood engorged folds of her vagina. But the beast's excitement caused it
to miss the waiting entrance and the tapered point stabbed at her nakedly
exposed anus, attempting to burrow into the tiny hole. Jeannette tensed in
fright and wiggled her asscheeks frantically to dislodge the invading shaft. It
slipped away from her, but the dog continued to thrust blindly in his dumb
sexual frenzy and the tip of his glistening red penis thrust into her tender
flesh over and over, causing her vagina to widen and dilate involuntarily. The
dog bucked on desperately, seeking her eluding sheath and taunting her
maddeningly with each jab at the hair lined slit. Once again, erotic shivers
were shooting through her still dripping loins and the delightful pressure was
building within her body. At last, unable to stand it any longer, Jeannette
reached back through her legs and took hold of the pulsing, slippery organ,
placing the narrow tip in her cuntal split. Drake whined as his long shaft slid
wetly into her up to the hilt of his dark furred balls.
Groaning with relief as she felt him filling her, Jeannette began to undulate
her asscheeks in time with the rapid thrusts of the panting, drooling dog.
Gripping her slender waist in his forepaws, Drake hunched over her and had soon
established his own rhythm of fucking, his powerful hind legs jerking with each
in and out motion. Jeannette gave herself over completely to the delicious
sensations of being screwed by the powerful, magnificent Shepherd, her untested
body was wide awake from the stunning sexual enlightenment she had received only
minutes before from her husband's boss and she hungrily sought new, more
exciting erotic thrills even as her formerly prudish mind once again was beaten
in its struggle to dictate what her body should do. Perspiration gathered on her
naked body, trickling down between her swaying breasts that swung beneath her
like ripe fruit on a forbidden tree. Chandler leaned forward, eyes gleaming with
carnal lust as they locked on the flashing red cock of the dog as it buried
itself from behind in the wet, hair-lined flesh of Jeannette's throbbing pussy.
The insane pressure was building fast in the girl's obscenely swaying loins and
she was nearly out of her mind with the wanton desire for release.
"Oooooh," she squealed through clenched teeth, "Oh, yes, yes,
yes, harder, Oh, God, fuck harder," Even the animal's incredible fucking
pace could not satisfy her as she ground her asscheeks backwards in an effort to
capture more of the long tapered penis and squeeze it between the hotly clasping
walls of her vagina. All sense of pride was lost to her, she actually reveled in
the knowledge of her abject humiliation by the jerking, hairy body of the great
canine. She wanted it! Oh God, she wanted his lewd animal sperm to shoot up into
her belly just as John Chandler had filled her so wonderfully. She wanted the
long denied bliss again, could never get enough of orgasm, now that she at last
knew what it was and how good it felt. She had to cum again, she had to!
"Jesus H. Christ," Chandler exclaimed, eyes riveted to the salacious
spectacle. He licked at his suddenly dry lips and absently stroked his cock that
was beginning to rise again as he watched the obscene buffeting of Jeannette
Delray by the big dog whose long thin penis was jabbing mercilessly into her
willing cunt. How long could it go on? Drake's red tongue lolled from his mouth,
dripping saliva over the girl's back to gather and run down the crevice of the
upraised ass cheeks and mingle with the secretions of her seething pussy.
Suddenly, Jeannette gave a wild cry. Her long hair began to whip wildly back and
forth as she went into the beginning convulsions of her climax. Her asscheeks
began to contract uncontrollably and she rammed them back fiercely against Drake
just as he jerked forward hard and his animal cock began to spurt its lewd sperm
far up in her hungrily quivering belly. The sticky white fluid oozed from her
lust tightened cunt and bathed the dog's scarlet cock, streaking the inner sides
of her ivory thighs. She sagged forward in orgiastic bliss, displaying her wet,
cum soaked pubic hair and rosy pink cuntlips as the dog's deflating cock was
sucked out of her vagina with an audible sound. As she pitched forward onto the
rug in near complete exhaustion, Drake stood over her body, panting, and proudly
wagging his tail. Then, furthering the perverted depravity that had been
committed on the helpless young wife, the dog dropped his shaggy head to her
widespread legs and licked happily at the creamy fluid that still oozed from her
trembling slit. His owner let the beast lap hungrily at the exposed pubic flesh
until every drop was gone before he locked his hand firmly in the dog's heavy
collar and drew the satiated Shepherd away from his human mate.
"Good boy, Drake," he murmured fondly, patting the dog's shoulders.
"A dog's gotta have a good piece of ass every now and then too, eh?"
Jeannette stumbled clumsily to her feet. "Wait!" she demanded.
"W-when will my husband hear from you?" She had not gone through this
degrading experience to be put off again.
"Now, hold on there, Jeannette. I got to have another talk with my
brother-in-law over at the bank. You just be patient, little lady." He
grinned with crude humor as Jeannette snatched up her dress and held it in front
of her naked, abused body. Women were all the same, when it was too late, they
wanted to play modest. Well, no, not all the same. He sure did have to admit
this one had been something special, and the best piece of tail he'd had in a
long time.
Jeannette Delray stood at her living room window, peeking through the slit of
the heavy drapes to watch John Chandler and his dog emerge from her doorway
below and cross the square. It seemed to her that they had been in her apartment
a long time, although it was still only mid-afternoon, and she wondered if
anyone had noticed their entrance or exit and been curious about it? But she
could not waste time worrying about that, she had to get herself cleaned up.
Still naked, she moved about the living room, fluffing up the couch cushions and
removing all traces of her visitors except for the tell-tale dog hairs. Those
she would do later with the vacuum cleaner.
She soaked her tired body in a hot tub for much longer than usual, pouring
quantities of fragrant bath salts into the water to dispel every last trace and
odor that might be clinging to her. Experimentally, she handled her large
breasts, running her fingertips over the bruised sore spots and gently examining
the nipples, all with a new awareness of her body as an instrument of erotic
sensitivity. As she stepped into the bedroom she paused in front of the
full-length mirror to survey her nubile form critically, seeing Jeannette Delray
for the first time not as a 'nice girl' but a provocative, desirable woman.
Humming, to herself, she dressed rapidly in a fresh cotton frock and returned to
the living room, scene of the debauched episode that was already beginning to
seem more and more unreal. She flung the drapes apart and let the late afternoon
sun stream into the room as she brought out her little vacuum cleaner and
removed Drake's long black-and-tan hairs from the tufts of the rug. There was a
dark wet spot on the rug directly in front of the couch and her cheeks flamed
hotly as she realized what must be its origin. God, Ray would be back soon and
she hadn't even planned what she would fix for dinner.
After the meal, they were watching television and Jeannette mentioned casually
that she could have gone with Ray, after all, as Cynthia Hearldson had changed
her piano lesson to Tuesday.
"Oh, yeah?" he said absently, "Well, it was hotter than hell in
Camden. Seems like this weather ought to break pretty soon. Say, honey, what's
this spot on the rug here?"
"Oh! I - I fixed myself a drink this afternoon and spilled some of
it," she explained.
"Drinking alone, and in the afternoon?" he teased, but frowned
slightly.
"Only a cola, silly."
Speaking of drinks, Ray thought, he had had a tiring day and wouldn't mind one
right now. Jeannette was curled up so comfortably on the couch that instead of
asking her he went to the kitchen himself. It seemed to him that the level of
the bourbon bottle was down somewhat from what it had been the other day, but no
doubt he was mistaken, of course, if Jeannette wanted a drink now and then there
was no reason why she shouldn't take one, yet it was not characteristic of his
wife to drink or to fib. Since he knew that Jeannette did not really care for
hard liquor, the thought crossed Ray's mind as he brought out the ice cubes that
maybe someone else had been here. No, he dismissed the idea, she would have
mentioned any callers.
Nevertheless, his wife surprised him by reaching eagerly for his glass when he
carried it in and she proceeded to swallow a hefty slug of it. "Just what I
needed to pick me up," Jeannette confessed, "I - I'm not feeling so
well this evening."
"Have a hard day, darling?" he questioned indulgently.
"Not really. I just feel sort of, strung out."
"Probably worrying about the loan. It's making us both tense, I wish to
hell we'd hear something pretty soon."
"Oh, Ray," his wife got up from her sitting position and moved over
next to him on the couch, placing her cheek against the flat hardness of his
chest, "I'm sure we will hear something soon, and that it will be
favorable. I, I just feel it!"
The close intimate presence of his wife against his body could not fail to
stimulate Ray sexually and his hand came down to stroke her soft brown hair and
slip under the neckline of her dress. Immediately a tremendous wave of guilt at
her deception swept over Jeannette and her whole body seemed to freeze and grow
rigid with fear. Ray must never, never find out what she had done! The knowledge
would destroy him and her along with him, shivering slightly, she allowed him to
work his warm fingers under her bra strap, to push it down over her shoulder so
that he could dip his hand, unhindered, into the thin nylon cup of her brassiere
and fasten his palm over her full vibrant breast. Cold terror gripped her. If
they made love tonight she was sure somehow that Ray would know it was not her
first time today. She still felt so stretched and sore down there, and she still
carried within her secret parts the sticky semen of Ray's boss and of, oh, God,
of the big German Shepherd. Tears welled up in her long-lashed grey eyes as she
realized fully to what depths of depravity she had sunk, but for good cause, for
her husband's sake.
"I'm sorry, darling," she whispered as Ray's fingers fastened over her
sensitive, abused nipple, "I - I just don't feel up to, to romance this
evening. I really would love it, if I just felt better."
Her husband sighed and gradually withdrew his hand from her dress, leaving her
breast tingling with the excitement his palpating fingers had aroused. Oh, she
did want to, she really truly wanted Ray to make love to her, to fuck as she had
been fucked today, but she didn't dare let him. Not now.
Jeannette was so confident Ray would hear from the bank the very next day that
she kept half-listening for the sound of his feet sounding up the stairs to tell
her they had got the loan. Then, her sacrifice would all be worth while, she
would know she'd done the right thing, the only thing, under the circumstances.
But the day passed like any other, and so did the next and the next until she
was fuming with suppressed anger at Chandler's delay.
On Friday morning she did her marketing and stopped in the drugstore to pick up
some household items. Ray was busy behind the prescription counter, so she
merely waved at him to let him know she was there and spent a few minutes
chatting with Miss Minnie, of whom both she and Ray were quite fond. Miss Minnie
had given the couple many valuable tips about the best places to obtain various
items in Magnolia, a good doctor and dentist and so forth.
"I believe I'll have a sundae," Jeannette said, sitting down at the
fountain and arranging her parcels on the stool beside her. The girl loaded the
concoction with extra hot fudge and whipped cream and she thought ruefully of
the calories as she dipped her spoon into the luscious combination. "Won't
you join me, Miss Minnie?"
"Just a black coffee for me," the clerk said, "I don't never eat
any of that sweet stuff. Where would I be now if I'd of been eating them sundaes
for thirty-three years?"
Jeannette paused, spoon raised. "How long did you say?"
"Thirty-three years. I been working right here in this store since I was
fifteen years old, Miz Delray. 'Course I don't expect to be here much longer, it
looks like my career is comin' to an end, don't it?"
"Why do you say that?" Jeannette questioned, frowning.
"Well, who knows, when the new owners takes over?" the older woman
shrugged philosophically but her down-to-earth voice quavered slightly as she
spoke of the impending change. "They was in here yesterday," she
leaned forward confidentially, "Poking into everything and writing it all
down, asking a lot of stupid questions."
"Men from the drugstore chain were here yesterday? Why, that's funny, Ray
never mentioned it," Jeannette broke off in mid- sentence.
"I reckon not. Probably didn't want to upset you, but he was lookin' awful
gloomy. It's a crying shame the way John Chandler has done you two, but at least
you can be thankful you ain't put thirty-three years into this place like I
have."
"Miss Minnie, the sale of the store isn't final," the young wife
assured her, "and I have good reason to think that Ray will be the new
owner after all. We expect to have some good news very soon, so keep your
fingers crossed!"
"I hope you're right, Miz Delray," the spinster muttered doubtfully,
"but you don't know this town like I do. When Mr. Chandler makes his mind
up to do something, he sees it through."
Miss Minnie got up to wait on a customer who had just entered and Jeannette
finished her sundae in a thoughtful mood. Well, she could see a thing through
herself, if it came to that! Easing herself from the stool, she smoothed out her
skirt which was clinging to her perspiration-damp thighs and gathered up her
purchases. Once again she stopped briefly to see her husband and Ray looked up
from his drug preparations to smile at her.
"I won't be up for lunch, honey, I'll just grab a sandwich here. Really got
a lot of work this morning, must be a lot of sick people in Magnolia."
"OK - just don't forget your lunch altogether," she admonished,
"I declare, Ray Delray," she put on a fake southern accent she
sometimes used jestingly and which he enjoyed, "you are just gettin'
positively skinny." She wouldn't let him know how worried she was about
Miss Minnie's information and the fact that he hadn't told her about the
visitors in the store.
Upstairs, she dropped her bundles in a heap on the kitchen table and went
immediately to the wall telephone, picking up the thin Magnolia directory.
Chandler's office did not answer and she next dialed his residence. A servant
answered and at her request called John Chandler to the phone.
"This is Jeannette Delray," she announced. "Why haven't I heard
from you?"
"I can't talk now. You should know better than to call here," he
growled and promptly hung up on her. Jeannette stared at the dead receiver, a
growing premonition seizing her that things were not going as she had expected.
Very well, she would give him until Monday, no longer.
At the other end of the line, Chandler was also uneasy. Her boldness in
contacting him at home surprised him, she had more spirit than most of her sex
and it was that very thing about her that had made it so pleasurable to seduce
her. He did not anticipate real trouble, but you never knew when one of the
bitches would turn on you. "Esther!" he called sharply.
The maid appeared soundlessly behind him. She was a strikingly beautiful young
black woman, skin that seemed to change from coffee to bronze and flowing
blue-black hair that was now forced back into a confining hair net. The white
nylon uniform that Laura Chandler required the girl to wear molded itself to
every hollow and curve of a figure that was unbelievably full-breasted above a
minuscule waist and flaring, generous hips. If Esther had had the opportunity to
get away from Magnolia and go north, there was no doubt in Chandler's mind she
could have gone on the stage. Instead, she had married her local sweetheart at
an early age and now worked for a low wage in the Chandler household.
"Esther, if anybody calls here for me, I want you to be sure to ask who it
is - and if it's Miz Delray, you tell her I'm not home. You got that?"
"Yes, sir," she said quietly, but there was a quick flare of interest
in her downcast eyes that her employer did not see.
"Where's Miz Chandler?" he questioned.
"Oh, she left for town a half-hour ago, thought you knew."
"No, I didn't," there was an instant relaxation of his big body, a
subtle yet distinct alteration in the master-servant relationship between the
two. "Come here, Esther," he said in a softer tone and the woman
obediently moved toward him to receive his embrace. He kissed her full on the
lips, forcing his tongue inside the warm wet cavern of her mouth and sliding it
back and forth in a lewd semblance of oral copulation while his fingers rapidly
undid the buttons of her uniform and went familiarly to her straining breasts
that were too large for even his big hands to encompass. Below his belt he felt
his cock jerk and swell to instant hardness as he began to breathe in short,
heavy rasps.
"Come on, girl," he muttered, "let's go in the bedroom, I got
some business with you 'fore she gets back." Smiling loosely down at her,
he took Esther's hand and guided it to his stomach, forcing her to grasp his
throbbing penis. Her dark eyes widened, though she knew well from experience the
inhuman dimensions of his instrument, and an involuntary little shiver rippled
over her body. Such was Chandler's dominance over her that she could look
forward eagerly to the things he would do to her on the big king- size bed while
never letting up for one second in her steady hatred of the system which allowed
her to become a mere chattel and plaything of her corrupt employer so that he
enjoyed her body equally as often as her own husband. Esther liked to think that
every time Chandler fucked her, she drained him of a little bit more of his life
fluid, his lewd sperm that he filled her belly with, although he certainly
seemed to have an endless supply of it, but never mind, one of these days her
time was coming! She still had a simple faith that justice would be done.
They entered the exquisitely decorated master bedroom and Esther automatically
finished stripping, laying her clothes out neatly over a chair. He sat on the
edge of the bed waiting for her, eyes sliding lasciviously over her dark
perfection that was always so excitingly forbidden to him that he had to have it
again and again. "I want you to suck me off, Esther," he instructed
her exactly as one might tell the maid how to go about polishing the silver,
"Yes, sir, that's what I crave today."
Esther dropped to her knees in front of him and settled back on her haunches as
she reached out to take the blood-filled, lust- thickened penis and guide it
toward her lips that were already forming a soft oval to receive the hard
bulbous head. As her pink tongue flicked out, the woman found that a totally
irrelevant thought was running around in her head. I wonder, she puzzled, what
this business is with Miz Delray?
John Chandler was annoyed and snappish on Monday morning. He was first angry
with his wife, Laura. They had gone to an intimate dinner party on Saturday
evening and she had proceeded to get drunk, which in itself was no surprise
except that this time she had exceeded her own limits, continued to drink all
day Sunday and was right now at home, sick as a dog, with Esther in constant
attendance. It was messy and he didn't like it, particularly at this period when
they were starting a new life, as it were, in Florida. A drunken wife was not a
social asset and Chandler was a man who relied heavily on social contacts to set
up his various deals and schemes. He had perceived that the Florida resort
community would be filled with wealthy retirees and vacationers, just the sort
of people whom a little old country boy could help to separate from some of
their money.
Secondly, he was angry because Jeannette Delray had telephoned again, in fact
had called several times, and he was going to have to take some positive action
on that situation, collect his bet from Lee and dump the Delrays, both husband
and wife. He knew by now that they were types who would only cause him trouble
of they remained in Magnolia.
The bet was only going to bring him ten dollars, but he never liked to lose a
wager and besides, the satisfaction of showing Lee Sanderson that the snotty
piano teacher had ended up like any whore - flat on her back with her legs
spread - that was worth a hell of a lot more than ten bucks. In fact, musing on
Jeannette's downfall which he had single-handedly brought about did quite a bit
to improve his irate disposition as he drove to town. He was smiling as he
entered the bank and strode into his brother-in-law's paneled office.
Lee Sanderson leaned back in his swivel armchair and surveyed Chandler's faintly
dissipated countenance. "Say, John - Mrs. Delray's been trying to get in
touch with you. She's called here twice this morning already."
"Hell," Chandler growled with a knowing grin, "don't you think I
know she's trying to get in touch with me? Reckon she wants some more of that
good cock I gave her the other day," he winked obscenely at the younger,
weaker man.
"That's not what she said," Lee observed mildly.
"OK - what'd the bitch want?" Chandler walked to the well- appointed
bar and poured himself a generous slug of raw Jack Daniels whiskey.
"She wants to know about the loan. Just what did you promise that girl,
anyway, John?"
"Christ, what does it matter?" the big man tilted his head back and
let the fiery liquid run down his throat to warm his vitals. "Promise 'em
anything, give 'em cock. Lay your ten dollars down, Lee, I aim to collect that
bet today," he winked again. "She leave her number?"
Lee pushed a slip of paper toward him and he picked up the phone and dialed,
"Jeannette? This John speaking. Yes, I'm over here at the bank right now
and Lee, Mr. Sanderson, would like to have a little talk with you. No, we don't
need Ray at this point - you just slip over here and come right back to Mr.
Sanderson's office. We'll be expecting you. No, there are some, uh, points that
we want to go over first. All right?" Securing her acceptance, he replaced
the receiver and then drew a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and laid it on the
gleaming mahogany surface of the desk.
"Hmmmmm, I think your original words were, 'Five'll get you ten'" Lee
Sanderson pointed out, hesitating as he pulled his own wallet from his back
pocket.
"Why be cheap about it?" John Chandler shrugged, "Isn't it worth
ten bucks to get into something like Jeannette Delray? How long has it been
since you screwed anybody 'sides Liz?"
Sanderson grimaced at the mention of his puritanical wife and laid his own crisp
green bill on top of the other. By God, it made his pecker jump just thinking
about Jeannette's cute little ass swaying the way it had on the dance floor at
the country club the other night. She couldn't get here quick enough to suit
him,
Nevertheless, it was to be several minutes before Jeannette was ready to leave
her place. She'd been doing the laundry and of course was not properly dressed
as the wife of a young businessman, calling on the president of the bank. It had
required time to change clothing and to freshen herself up a bit. She checked
her watch nervously, ten o'clock. It was not likely that Ray would come up
before noon and she could say she'd been shopping, if he missed her. God, if
only this wasn't such a small town!
There were long lines at the teller's windows in the bank and no one seemed to
notice Jeannette as she made her way to the rear of the main room until one of
the secretaries pointed the way to her. "Just go right on through, Mrs.
Delray, Mr. Sanderson's expecting you."
"Thank you." Jeannette entered a thickly carpeted hallway. She was
quite surprised at the plush atmosphere of Mr. Sanderson's office, it was
furnished almost as a library or living room. In place of the customary filing
cabinets and steel furniture there were gracious colonial pieces, big chairs and
period lamps. Recorded music played softly in the background.
She had not seen John Chandler since - since that day - and the sight of his
handsome figure came as a shock, arousing as it did those incredible memories of
the event she hoped to forget eventually.
"Well, here's little Miz Delray," he said with his bland joviality,
"You doin' all right, Jeannette?"
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and also inclined her head to Lee
Sanderson whom she did not know well. The blonde good looks of his twin sister
had been transmuted in Lee to a rather weak handsomeness in a slim, wiry frame.
He had only a pale echo of his twin's vitality and was nowhere near so forceful
as his brother-in-law either. Still, he was the Sanderson heir and the president
of this financial institution and thus someone to be reckoned with in his own
right. Smiling pleasantly at her, he pressed a little button on his desk.
"Nell? We'll be in conference. No interruptions, please, I don't care who
calls."
"Have a seat, Jeannette," Chandler invited, "and I'll just fix us
all somethin' cold to drink." She sank into an overstuffed chair and
watched him work at the bar with its small built-in ice maker, mixing three
potent drinks which he handed around.
"Are the papers ready?" Jeannette asked, determined to conduct affairs
in a businesslike manner. She assumed that Chandler would not have told Lee
about what had taken place in her apartment, as Laura's brother, he could hardly
approve of extra-marital affairs or so she naively thought.
"Not quite," John answered, seating himself on the arm of her chair
and placing his arm over her shoulder, "That's why I called you over,
honey. It seems there's a matter of a little more, collateral, that has to be
put up." The pretty nervous bride stiffened and looked from one man to the
other.
"But you promised - ! Don't think you can back out of this, John Chandler,
I intend to hold you to our agreement," she looked him full in the face,
purposefully.
"Don't you go gettin' on your high horse, now," he chided softly, but
the threat was distinct in his gravely-voice, "I made my recommendation to
Lee here, but he says it's pretty irregular, makin' a loan to folks that don't
have any money or, collateral and he's not sure the Board will stand for it
unless he sort of comes out strong and rams it down their throats. 'Course he
could lend the money private, if he was of a mind to."
"Would you do that, Mr. Sanderson?" Jeannette asked bravely. Suddenly
she felt John Chandler's large hand reaching down the open V-neck of her dress
while at the same time he bent his head to hers and kissed the pearly lobe of
her ear, running the tip of his tongue around the shell-like configuration of
her ear. She gripped the chair-arms in shock and embarrassment. To her
amazement, Lee Sanderson did not seem to find John's behavior at all surprising.
In fact, he watched avidly, his cold banker's eyes lighting with salacious lust
as Chandler further displayed his domination over the helpless woman by
continuing to rummage in her dress until he had secured her left nipple in his
fingers and began to tweak it to painful hardness. Jeannette's pale face flooded
with crimson as the blood rushed to her cheeks. She wanted to leap up, to strike
Chandler, pummel him with her fists, but she couldn't make a move and sat
mesmerized with the awful knowledge that everything, he was even abetting John
Chandler in his lechery and blackmail! Most incredible of all, on the other side
of the heavy office door the business of Magnolia was going on just as usual,
without a single citizen to know or to care that an innocent woman could be
terrorized, or worse, by the town's two leading businessmen and that it could
take place right in the bank manager's office!
Beads of perspiration broke out on Jeannette's forehead as Sanderson pushed back
his chair and began to walk toward her, his fingers twisting together in
anticipation. Oh God, God, God, her breasts were rising, straining the taut
fabric of her dress and she could not control their erotic stimulation under the
roughly pinching fingers of John Chandler, any more than she could stop the
sudden feathery twinges that were descending from the erogenous zone of her
breast down to the "vee" between her legs.
The fact was that Jeannette Delray had not had any more sexual satisfaction
since that day in her living room with Chandler and the big German Shepherd. A
few days later she had permitted her husband to make love to her, but the
experience had, if anything, been even more of a failure than usual. She'd been
so terrified that he could somehow guess she was a changed woman, and that
another man had succeeded in arousing the passion that her own beloved Ray had
never been able to, that she lay in his arms like a stone. Ray had finished with
her quickly, satisfied his own needs and left her unrelieved, yet still aching
with pent-up emotion and an agonized wish for the ultimate sensation she had
enjoyed with her husband's boss.
She did not want Chandler, she hated him more than ever for his cruel ravishing
of her and the further subjugation of forcing her to copulate with his dog, but
as his lewd hands once more roamed at will over her body she could not help
being aroused and much more quickly than on the first occasion. His free hand
was now caressing the soft contours of her flat belly, causing her to wriggle
her asscheeks deeper into the chair and clamp her thighs together tightly in a
vain effort to stop the ripples of prurient desire that were weakening her
loins. The warmth of the whiskey which she had drunk too hastily was also
spreading rapidly through her veins and contributing to her unwanted excitement.
Lee Sanderson stopped in front of her chair and smiled down at her obvious
discomfort, his thin lips pulled back over even white teeth. By God, he was
thinking enviously, you had to hand it to Big John! He had delivered the pretty,
snotty little piano teacher just as he bet he would. It sure did beat
everything, the way his brother-in-law could come up with women you'd never
dream would fuck with anyone but their husbands, this Jeannette looked like she
was getting ready to cry, but he had no doubt she'd go through with it and even
wind up enjoying it before they got finished with her. That was the beauty of
having money and power, there was always another bitch who needed some of what
you had and would make a trade of what she had. And, Christ, he couldn't
remember another piece of tail who had more than this one to offer! If she
didn't get what she came for - the loan - at least she'd get a good fuck thrown
into her, which in Sanderson's opinion was all a woman ever needed anyway. They
had no place trying to mess around with business deals.
"You see, honey," John was explaining to Jeannette as his hand reached
the hem of her short dress and inexorably slipped under the cloth and upward
along her naked thigh, "Lee here is cutting himself into our arrangement,
share and share alike, and since he's the one with the funds, I advise you to go
along. You might even enjoy it," he winked at her as his palm found the
tender inner side of her thigh and established an intimate stroking contact that
sent delicious little tingles upward to the center of Jeannette's vainly
resisting womb. She was aware that her panties were damp from the unwanted
secretion that was seeping from her warmly aroused vagina in automatic response
to Chandler's obscene titillation. Her mind grappled with this new information,
Lee Sanderson wanted to sample her too, somehow, it was hardly even surprising,
there were few shocks left anymore, as her world seemed to disintegrate around
her in spite of her well- intentioned efforts to manage her own and her
husband's future. Wearied by the unrelenting pressure they were forcing upon
her, she suddenly threw her head back proudly and laughed.
"So Mister Sanderson wants something, too, does he? Well, why not? Why the
hell not? Just tell me when, and where."
"Why, right now," the younger man, chuckled, hands already going to
his belt. "Here."
"Here?" She blinked, "Y-you must be insane. We can't do it
here!"
"Lock the door, John," Lee instructed, and Chandler reluctantly
withdrew his hand from Jeannette's open legs. She remained as she was, knees
apart and skirt pushed up around her hips so that the edge of her virginal white
panties was visible. Her wide-eyed magnetized gaze was drawn irresistibly to Lee
Sanderson's long hard penis which he had drawn from his open fly. The obscene
sight shocked her into abrupt realization of her position and that he was
planning to put that thing up inside her, now, here. She shivered, unable to
tear her eyes away from the ridged, blue-veined shaft that was standing
spear-like straight out from his loins. Sensing again her own wetness, the
trapped young housewife ground her hips frantically downward in a vain attempt
to soothe the maddening tingle of her throbbing cuntal slit. Her pitiful supply
of courage was rapidly deserting her and she regretted her attempt at brazen
acceptance of the fact that she had to let Lee Sanderson make love to her also.
But God, what else could she do but see the nightmarish thing through? What
difference did it really make if one more man put his thing in her and pumped
her full of his lewd sperm?
"Stand up, girl," Sanderson was massaging his long staff into even
greater hardness, pulling back the thick foreskin to expose the bulbous head of
his aching cock. "I want to see all of you."
It took but a moment to remove Jeannette's clothing, with Chandler helping, and
then she stood stark naked in the middle of the office before the two men,
slight goose-flesh dappling her creamy skin as she shivered in the cool
air-conditioned atmosphere while perspiration still continued to dampen her
flushed, beautiful face.
"Oh, Jesus, will you look at that!" Sanderson exclaimed in something
akin to awe. She was perfection, this tall girl with the voluptuously
proportioned breasts and slender waist, the long, long legs, the mysterious
little triangular mound of her sex. His cock throbbed as he surveyed her, and he
placed one hand on her hip, just where it began to curve, and moved closer, his
stiff cock pressing against her thigh while his hands slipped to her tense, flat
stomach and began to massage it. His face loomed above her, so close she could
feel his warm whiskey-laden breath. Jeannette could not deny that he was
producing an unwelcome fascination deep within her, his hands were strangely
comforting in their warmth, while the feel of his penis as it poked close to her
dilating vagina, instigated a thrill of erotic sensation. Then, he moved his
hands to the ripely swelling mounds of her breasts, thumb tips pressing the
nipples in. As she stared down at the unfamiliar hands manipulating her breasts,
she was engulfed in a consuming wave of passion that ripped away her flimsy
defenses.
"God, you are a luscious thing!" Lee muttered, and his mouth closed
over one very puffy nipple. Jeannette thought her body had taken fire as he
began to suck. She squirmed and wriggled automatically spreading her legs apart
to the cool wafting breeze of the air-conditioning. His hand snaked down and
parted the hair-fringed lips of her heated cunt, gently slipping his middle
finger into its wetness. As she wrenched her hips against the probing finger, a
sense of shame fleetingly overcame the young wife even as the prurient quivers
rippled through her loins while he slowly probed deeper and deeper into the
moistly pulsating cavern.
Jeannette groaned aloud in her struggle against his burning lips at her breast
and the tantalizing finger in her tingling cunt. "Ohhhh, ooooh," she
whined helplessly as he kept up his assault on her exposed body. "Ooooohh,
yes, please!"
"Come on, I'll, fuck you on the couch," he grunted.
As always the obscene word caused an inward reaction in Jeannette, but this time
it excited more than repelled her and she hissed back at him, "Yesss!"
and he eased her backward and down, down. She saw him kneeling over her, his
face a mask of carnal lust, and her eyes slid downward to the rigid penis
jutting angrily from his abdomen. She gaped at it in utter misery, filled with
shame as she once again realized what she was about to do and hated her own
naked body that lay willingly stretched out under him. But as she looked, the
unmistakable pull of desire gripped her loins. The purplish head of his
monstrous cock looked like a giant fist, big enough to split her apart, God, she
couldn't take that in her, never!
"Oh God," she wailed forlornly as he dropped down on her and the
hardness of his rod surged against her belly like a cudgel. She quaked beneath
him, gasping as he guided his rock-hard shaft to the passion-wet entrance of her
vagina, using the smooth bulbous head to separate her fringed cuntlips. The
electrifying instant of contact with his male organ sent shudders of pleasure
racing through her spread-eagled body. She hardly dared move as he continued to
push against her tight hole, causing intense pain as he stretched her sensitive
skin.
"Ooooohh," she moaned.
He pressed forward again and the ponderous cock-head burst its way into the
warmly palpitating opening. "Please, you're hurting me!" she begged.
"Please, no more!"
Sanderson continued the violating impalement, his lust-engorged staff slowly
moving inch by torturing inch up into her unwilling vagina. As he settled down
upon her she thought she would burst from the pressure which filled her so
completely that she could feel every corded wrinkle of his penis that cruelly
stretched her vaginal walls. He lay quiet for a second, then flexed his cock and
plunged deeper into her writhing young belly.
"Aaaaagggghhhhh!" Jeannette groaned up at him, but then as her
desire-inflamed pussy gradually adjusted itself to the barbaric bulk of his
penis, her whimpers of pain changed unobtrusively to mewls of pleasure.
Sanderson began a rocking motion of his hips that sent his swollen rod of male
flesh crushing into her vagina until the blood-gorged head pounded cruelly
against her cervix. He stroked back and forth in ecstatic rhythm. Jesus, her
fucking cunt would drive a man out of his mind!
Jeannette began to move her hips in harmony with his, while from her mouth
emitted unmistakable sounds of her building passion. She had forgotten
everything for the moment, everything but Sanderson's thick cock buried deep
inside her, fucking her. Her body reacted automatically to the stimulating
thought, and lewd words escaped from her own panting lips.
"Come on, come on," she hummed, "fuck harder, fuck me
harder!" Her own use of the obscene term further excited her and she gasped
with delight as Sanderson reached up under her grinding asscheeks and jerked
them up even tighter to his hard thrusting loins. The passion incensed young
housewife drove her throbbing wet split desperately up against his pounding
hardness, all pain forgotten and lost in the unbearable bliss of the moment.
Gurgling, velvety sounds burst from deep in her throat as her taut-muscled legs
flailed out on either side of his long, spearing cock. I
Her husband Ray had never been like this, or even Chandler, there had never been
such intense feeling as this, and she never wanted it to end. Jeannette wanted
more, much more, all there was. She was an adulteress, she knew it, she was a
whore, perhaps a slave, but God, at least she was a woman. A woman lying under a
man and letting him ram his big cock right up into her womb, and oh, oh, oh, it
was so good!
The two on the couch had forgotten that they were being watched - if indeed they
cared at all, so absorbed were they in satisfying their own lewd pleasures.
After locking the office door, Lee Sanderson's brother-in-law had poured himself
another drink and sat down to sip Jack Daniels while he salaciously reveled in
his voyeur's role. John Chandler could not sit still very long under such
obvious erotic pressure, though, and he soon set down his empty glass and moved
over nearer to the low, massive couch for a closer look at the action. His own
penis was jumping wildly as he pulled over a footstool and settled his big body
down on it, legs apart. He licked at the corners of his mouth, grinning loosely
as he leaned forward to see better Jeannette's hair-lined cunt where it was
split by the glistening, angry red cock that was rhythmically burying itself to
the hilt up between her fleshy, wide stretched lips. Lee's balls swung lewdly
between his legs, slapping resoundingly against the hapless young girl's full,
upthrust ass cheeks. God, she was taking a pounding from him and still begging
for more, if Lee couldn't satisfy her, he damn well could, Chandler mused, and
would! His fingers slipped to his bulging fly, he'd had a hard on ever since the
little whore walked into the office and right now his cock felt like it was
going to erupt if that son-of-a- bitch Lee didn't hurry up so he could have his
turn at her.
Perspiration poured from the girl as she struggled toward her climax, and her
contorted features were hardly recognizable, her neck muscles were distended and
her soft red lips opened and closed with her passionate, subservient moans. A
drop of saliva glistened in the tiny corner of her mouth.
Jesus H. Christ, what was he waiting for, Chandler marveled? Hot as she was, let
her service both of them at once, he'd fill her at one end, Lee would fill her
at the other. Hastily, he unzipped his pants and brought out his tremendously
swollen instrument that was dusky red with his charged, hot blood. He moved
purposefully toward her bobbing head, his hotly throbbing cock extending from
his loins at a forty-five degree angle, the couch was low, exactly the right
height, in fact, John Chandler lowered himself to his knees and presented the
writhing Jeannette with the smooth tip of his aching male flesh, dipping it
before her shocked, startled eyes.
God, she couldn't comprehend, at first, what he was doing, she could only gape
at the huge bulbous head with its tiny gland oozing a lewd drop of precum.
Involuntarily she reacted by drawing her lips back over her teeth and cringing
from the menacing shaft even as the mere sight of it caused lustful thrills to
shoot through her sex-starved body. Then, suddenly, it dawned on her what he
wanted, he wanted her to put his penis in her mouth, taste it, suck it! Had not
Sanderson already aroused her to the point of near orgasm, Jeannette doubted if
she could ever have done such an unnatural thing. His cock, by its very size,
would choke her, gag her! Yet, she could not take her eyes away from it as he
guided it right up to her very lips. Her own little hand unaccountably came up
from her side and took over, grasping the blood-engorged rod and steadying it,
pulling it ever closer, she drew a deep breath and slid out her tongue to touch
the rubbery tip, so hard beneath and yet so soft at first delicious contact!
She swirled her tongue tip slowly around the glistening cock- head until it
located the minute gland and dipped into it to savor the tiny drop of seminal
moisture. Her nostrils flared with excitement at the forbidden taste and her
fingers moved down the erect shaft, pushing the foreskin gently back until the
naked head stood out, she parted her lips, wetting them with her tongue, and
gradually slipped the spongy head between them, rubbing it against the cushioned
ridge of her teeth, swallowing it further and further into the moist welcoming
cavern of her virginal mouth.
"That's it, honey," John Chandler rasped, "suck it harder!"
And he began to move his hips slowly back and forth against her face. She did
suck harder, quivering with excitement at the perverted, debasing act she was
committing. God, how she must look with the two men impaling her with their
obscene cocks, it was unthinkable, and her cunt pulsed ever faster as she did
think of it while her mouth tightened around the penis that was rammed so far
into her mouth she could feel the wiry pubic hair of John Chandler brushing her
cheeks.
As Jeannette Delray's cunt spasmed under him, Lee Sanderson battered her with
ever increasing force, pulling his shaft almost entirely out of the velvety
moist sheath and then lunging forward as her vagina sucked voraciously at him
with lewd wet smacking noises. His sperm-loaded balls whacked against her tautly
puckered anus, wet from the moisture which was seeping from her cunt to run down
the crevice between her legs.
Fully occupied as she was, the tricked young housewife had yet time to think
with masochistic shudders of bliss that soon, any moment now, John Chandler
would spew his sticky, white sperm into her mouth, exactly as he would to some
filthy whore. What would it taste like? Could she take it? Her tongue swirled
furiously over the near-exploding hardness.
"Sweet Jesus!" John Chandler clutched at her head, seizing the
trailing brown tendrils of her hair. He gave another stifled moan and pulled her
head up from the cushion driving it down on his aching member until all that was
visible of his cock was a little bit at the base where it protruded from
Jeannette's voraciously ovalled lips. Suddenly, Jeannette felt his penis begin
to jerk inside her mouth.
Lee Sanderson gaped in disbelief from his position over her as her throat
constricted, she swallowed, and then again, and again, gulping down great
torrents of the steaming hot sperm Chandler was squirting down her virgin
throat. Her cheeks filled and hollowed obscenely as the madly jerking penis
emptied itself endlessly into the receptive cavern of the girl's sweet young
mouth. She kept up her sucking motions, draining him even as his deflating cock
slipped from her mouth, still dribbling sticky strings of the hot sperm which
the enraptured girl licked hungrily from her lips and the corners of her mouth.
Below, her own moisture flowed even faster, bathing Sanderson's pumping cock as
it slipped wetly in and out of her drenched pussy.
Sanderson's aching balls seemed ready to split asunder from the pressure growing
within them, and his head swam with the urgent need to shoot his boiling seed
into her. He fucked her with frenzied lust and she cried out, but from the sheer
pleasure of the battering he was giving her which made her pant and cough
ecstatically. Now he looked away from her wet, contorted face and down at his
burgeoning cock, gliding smoothly in and out of her unbelievably insatiable
cunt. God, he had to cum soon or blow his mind. He rummaged beneath her
sensuously gyrating asscheeks and poked with his middle finger at the tiny
elastic hole of her anus.
"Ooooohhh," she exclaimed happily, "yes, yes, stick your finger
in!" and she jerked her asscheeks forward against his finger, aiding him to
pop through the constricting ring into the spongy interior of her ass.
"Ouch!" she squealed in pain, but then as her virgin back passage
became accustomed to the unnatural invasion, she began not to mind and to feel
acute pleasure from his debasing finger stuck up her ass while his wonderful
hard cock plundered her quivering belly.
Through the thin, muscular wall separating her vagina and ass Sanderson felt his
own pistoning shaft. He wormed the finger deeper, causing her to writhe and
grind her pussy up and down on both impaling instruments. "Oh, oh, ooohhhh,"
Jeannette chanted, flexing her long silken legs, toes curling, head thrust back.
"I think, I feel, God, yes, it's happening, I'm cuming again, I'm going to
cummmmmmm!"
Jeannette's limber body jack-knifed beneath Sanderson, mouth open in a
continuous sobbing wail of delight and her cuntal walls sucking hungrily as her
pussy gushed forth its liberated sticky cum to bathe his plundering length.
Spurred almost to madness by her climax that seemed unending in its intensity,
Sanderson burrowed deeper into her seething slit, slamming her flaming pussy
with every ounce of his strength until he felt the rush of his own bubbling hot
cum shoot from his balls and race up his shaft to spray wildly out the tip, and
he was lost in a hot deep pool of sensuality as his cum blended with hers in the
overflowing interior of her warmly clasping vagina.
Her firm young body collapsed beneath him although still impaled on his
throbbing rod of flesh that was only now beginning to soften, its mission
accomplished. He levered up on his arms and pulled backward out of her with a
faint sucking noise, and Jeannette purred deep in her throat with satisfaction.
She was dimly conscious of the slow trickle of semen that dripped from her slit
to wet the cushion under her asscheeks.
A few minutes later when she had sufficiently recovered her senses, Jeannette
Delray sat up. Both men, she observed, had cleaned themselves up in a small
adjoining powder room and she now walked with all the dignity she could muster
into the little tiled enclosure to wash her face and try to make herself
presentable enough to leave the bank. She came out of the room and began to
dress silently.
"Here," John Chandler helped her with the zipper of her dress and
Sanderson collected her shoes and purse. They seemed to want to be quickly rid
of her, but she had inherited the stubbornness and tenacity of her New England
ancestors and was not about to leave without the thing she had come for.
"Now," she eyed the brothers-in-law coolly, "when can Ray take
over the drugstore? Are the papers ready?"
Lee Sanderson raised his light blonde eyebrows and shrugged, obviously washing
his hands of the whole business. Chandler's husky voice dropped to a patronizing
tone. "Honey, I did exactly what I promised. I asked Lee to approve the
loan, I pestered him about it. But I'm afraid there's too much risk involved.
He'll go maybe as high as fifteen thousand, if you can raise the rest someplace
else. Now, I'm real sorry, but that's it."
There was absolute stillness, except for the piped-in music and the steady hum
of the air conditioner. Jeannette Delray's small chin went up. She stared with
utter contempt first at John Chandler, then let her withering glance rest on Lee
Sanderson.
"That isn't good enough," she said at last, "you'll have to do
better than that, gentlemen. Because if you don't, everyone in Magnolia,
Arkansas is going to hear about you two, - starting with my husband!"
She swung her purse defiantly over her shoulder and started to walk out. Lee
Sanderson stopped her. "Hold on, Jeannette. L-Let's not do anything hasty.
As a woman, you have the most to lose if there was any, uh, scandal."
"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," she smiled like a cat in cream,
"because if we don't get the drugstore, Ray and I will simply pull up and
move somewhere where no one's ever heard of us, and make a fresh start. It's you
two who will have to live the scandal down right here."
John Chandler stepped in between them, taking Jeannette by the arm. "We'll
talk it over some more," he agreed, "Here, you wait in the Board
Room," he unlocked the door and steered her rapidly down the hall, pushing
her into another room, "Give me a few minutes with Lee - I'm going to do
what I can, Christ, I'm trying," he pulled the door to let her in and left
the wearied girl staring at the gleaming bare surface of the long table and the
twelve stiff empty chairs that surrounded it. After a moment of indecision she
sat down at the head of the table, no longer believing anything Chandler said,
but still not wanting to leave as long as any chance remained, she put her face
down against the cool, almost sensual smoothness of the table and closed her
eyes. Did she have the courage to tell her husband what she'd done? She wasn't
sure. God help her, she wasn't sure of anything any more.
Lee Sanderson had started in accusingly on his brother-in-law as soon as
Chandler re-entered the office. "Oh, buddy, you bought us a peck of trouble
this time. What are you gonna do about her? She's really mad, John, she's not
like the others. You know Ray Delray is just liable to take a shotgun to
us?"
"Shut up," Chandler rasped savagely, "That bitch isn't going to
run and tell her old man she put out to both of us, she's not that crazy,"
He snapped his fingers, "Got it!" He picked up the telephone and
dialed swiftly, talking fast as his number rang, "What we have to do is
discredit her, that way if she does tell, no one will believe her, Hello,
Esther? Get me Tully, and this is important! Get him on the line just as fast as
you can." He mopped at his brow with a handkerchief as he waited. There was
an intercom system connecting the main house with the dairy barn, and in a few
seconds the line clicked and Tully, the man who managed the farm, spoke into the
receiver.
"How fast can you get into town?" Chandler barked into the telephone,
"OK, here's what I want you to do. Drop whatever you're doing, and bring me
some of that Spanish Fly - that's right, what you've got for the cows - and
bring it in here to me at the bank. Not my office, I'm downstairs in Sanderson's
office. And Tully - you hustle, you hear?"
A dazed, comprehending expression crept over Lee Sanderson's weak face as he
listened to the conversation and absorbed its implications. "John, what are
you thinking of? You aren't going to use that stuff - you aren't going to give
Spanish Fly to that girl in there? John, that stuff is dangerous, it can be
poisonous to humans!"
"Give me some credit for not being a fool," the other man answered.
"She'll get just enough. I didn't reckon on giving her what it takes to
make one of those cows of mine hot, 'cause we already know it doesn't take too
much of anything to get the little bitch that way. Tully'll be here inside of
fifteen minutes. He knows how to floorboard that pickup truck, so calm down.
Christ, I'm the one with high blood pressure and you're sweating like a
mule!"
They lit cigarettes and waited and in a few minutes there was a rap on the door
and Tully entered. He was a burly southerner of the type often referred to as a
"red-neck," who had worked for Chandler for years and was well
acquainted with his employer's tastes and quirks. He handed over a little packet
and received a shot of whiskey for his trouble, then was told to wait for a
further errand. Lee Sanderson watched dubiously as Chandler measured out a
portion of the aphrodisiac into a glass and added liquor, soda and ice. "Go
get her," he grinned lewdly, swirling the glass.
For some reason Sanderson assumed his professional bank manager's attitude when
he went to call Jeannette. "All right, Mrs. Delray, will you come into my
office now?" She rose and followed him warily. To her surprise a stranger,
evidently a farmer, was sitting in one of the big chairs.
"It's all right, Jeannette," Chandler remarked, "This is Tully
Fairchild, he works for me and we can talk in front of him. Here, let's have a
drink all around to show there's no hard feelings. I guess you're going to get
your way, little lady," the patent falseness of his tone went unnoticed by
Jeannette, she was so wrung out from her experiences and mental anguish. "I
want you to go home now. Mr. Sanderson is drawing up the papers, just like you
wanted,"
"Then I can tell Ray?" she broke into a smile of relief, happiness and
a sense of victory flooding her entire being.
"Hadn't you better let Lee call him? So's he won't wonder how you came to
hear about it first?"
"Oh, oh, of course. I don't want Ray to know that I, that I had anything to
do with it. But there'll be no more tricks!"
"Ray will get a call," he assured her solemnly, "within the half
hour. And I hope that you and I will be seeing each other again, from time to
time." His steely eyes raked her with the bold assumption of mastery over
her will, and she dropped her own eyes in confusion, unable to repress the
little twinge of excitement that cascaded from her belly down to her genital
area. She had accepted the drink rather reluctantly, but now she sipped at it
and thought fleetingly that it must have been mixed by Sanderson, the
proportions or the ingredients were different, giving it a peculiar flavor. She
was aware of the man Tully's gaze on her and wondered vaguely why they had
admitted him to the office when Sanderson had left instructions they were not to
be disturbed. She continued the polite charade which was rather ludicrous in
view of the intimacy the three had recently shared, and shook hands with the
brothers-in-law as they ushered her out.
Her legs, as she crossed the square, seemed not quite connected with her body so
that it was difficult to walk in a straight line. When she got home she would
wash her face with cold water and fix some strong black coffee, she had to get
sobered up, actually, she hated liquor and didn't care if she never drank it
again.
On reaching the sanctuary of her apartment, however, Jeannette didn't get around
to making the coffee right away. She lay down on the bed with a cold washcloth
over her brow to relieve her sudden light-headed, dizzy feeling. She must change
her clothes, her panties felt horribly sticky and damp. Jeannette sat up and
removed her dress and slip, then fell back on the bed again clad in nothing but
her brassiere and panties. Ray would be shocked to find her this way, but it
felt so deliciously cool and her skin was suddenly so hot, all over. She
pictured Ray standing there in the doorway, seeing her, and she unconsciously
spread her legs apart as her breath began coming faster. When he saw her lying
there he would naturally want to make love to her, and she could imagine his
erection, his great, long cock standing out from his wiry black pubic hair.
"Oooooohh," she murmured sensuously, her hand moving to slip under the
narrow waistband of her panties and massage the smooth tense flesh of her belly.
She wanted her husband now as she had never wanted him before, nor any man. She
wanted him with her, inside her, oh, God, she wanted his mighty cock to tear her
apart and fill her, fill her belly. She groaned again, dimly ashamed of her own
self for the unabashed wantonness of her thoughts, and this handling of herself
such as a naughty child might do for prurient pleasure. Her fingers crept
downward to her sparse female hair that was still soaked with her dried cum and
with sperm, God, with Lee Sanderson's lewd sperm!
Wriggling ecstatically, Jeannette separated her own soft cunt lips and touched
her middle finger to the tiny erect projection of her clit. Lord, she was afire
down there! What was happening to her, had she gone sex-mad, shamelessly
masturbating and violating herself this way? Oh, Ray, she begged soundlessly, I
need you, darling, I need you to fuck me! It will be good this time, darling,
so-o-o-o good, I'll make it good for you, just give me your wonderful cock!
With desperate fumbling haste she rotated her fingers around her throbbing clit,
but it wasn't enough, she ground her asscheeks together in helpless lust and
rammed her entire small fist up against the burning flesh of her cock-craving
pussy as the powerful aphrodisiac in her bloodstream drove her, completely
unaware of the cause, into ever-increasing frenzy.
As he entered the swinging door of the bank, Ray Delray was keeping his fingers
crossed, mentally. In recent days he had come to understand that he was hoping
to acquire the drugstore almost as much for his wife Jeannette's sake as for his
own. At the party they had attended at the country club, she had been so
different, and it was only then he had realized how routine and boring her life
must have been since he brought her here to Magnolia. The excitement of an
evening out had brought a sparkle to her he rarely saw, especially when she'd
been asked to dance so much and had chatted with the other wives. Of course
she'd had too much to drink, but he could even forgive that under the
circumstances. When, that is, if, they began to earn a good income from the
drugstore, Jeannette could take her rightful place in the social life of the
tight little community and he himself could afford to be more sociable and
unbend a little from his driving all work, no play schedule. Everything depended
on Lee Sanderson's decision, which he would know in minutes now, after waiting
so long.
Ray shook hands with the bank manager and nodded to John Chandler as they
welcomed him into the office. Both men had been drinking and had evidently been
at it most of the morning, he thought, but their faces were as sober as if they
had recently taken the pledge. He sat down in the indicated chair.
"Well, Ray, I didn't mean to put you off so long," Lee Sanderson
began, "the fact is this has been a difficult loan application for me, one
of the most difficult ones that I reckon I've ever run up against."
The somber tone of his voice warned Ray even more than the cautious choice of
words that his application had been rejected, and his whole lanky body seemed to
sag in defeat.
"The Board of Directors simply wouldn't go for lending you any money,"
Sanderson continued, "although John and I both spoke in your favor and did
what we could to change their minds. Now, that's all I'm obligated to tell you -
that your application was turned down. But I feel I have a, a moral obligation
to give you the reason."
"That's all right," Ray said bitterly, "I'm aware of the reasons
- no cash, no backing - no loan."
"It wasn't that Ray. You stand very high in the opinions of people in this
town. You're a hard worker and a good manager, a fine credit risk. And I'm sure
that you don't understand, or even suspect, why the Board wouldn't go along. I -
well, damn it, this is kind of out of my line...."
"What Lee is trying to say," John Chandler broke in smoothly, "is
that this is a very small town, Ray, where everybody knows just about everything
about everybody else. And it's a very moral town, good, church-going people.
People that just don't like to do business with someone they feel is not one
hundred percent up to those high standards of behavior. Now I'm going to be
blunt, son, because there's just no other way. Frankly, the general consensus of
feeling around town is that while you rate very high - well, your wife just
doesn't fit in as a member of our strait-laced little community."
This statement was so ludicrous that at first Ray was not sure he was hearing
right. Jeannette - not fit in Magnolia? Why, she was so far above the average
local housewife in brains, education, character, and looks that there was not
one woman he'd met here who could even come close to her. In his amazement, he
at first rationalized that someone was jealous of Jeannette, maybe they had
misinterpreted her natural reserve for snobbishness. "You've got to be
kidding!" he exclaimed. "Christ, you know Jeannette. You know that's
the most absurd piece of bullshit, who says she doesn't fit in? For that matter,
what's her personality got to do with it anyway?"
"Simmer down, Ray. We're not talking about Jeannette's personality, I'm
afraid it's a hell of a lot more serious than that. It's her morals that folks
are questioning."
"Now, look here," Ray came up out of his chair, one hand pulled back
into a fist.
"Hold on, hold on!" Chandler cried quickly, "You got to listen to
us, We know how you feel. Do you think this is easy for me n' Lee to do, talk to
a man this way about his wife?"
"All right," with a masterful effort that left his face white, Ray
controlled his temper. "So what are the local witches saying about
Jeannette? That she wears mini-skirts, I suppose? She doesn't make it to church
every Sunday?"
"You better have a drink, Ray," Lee Sanderson interposed, and he
fetched one. "Now, I said all along maybe it's a psychiatric problem. When
I first heard the talk I didn't believe it either, I said it's got to be some
kind of mental quirk that the gal can't help...."
"Heard what talk?" the bewildered husband demanded, "What the
hell are you guys trying to say? What's wrong with my wife?"
"The fact is," John Chandler's voice dropped to a lower register and
he sat down opposite Ray and leaned forward confidentially, "She's been
seen with various men. Some of them - I won't name names - have bragged about
going out with her."
Ray hurled his glass at the opposite wall, where it shattered against the
paneling, and leaped at his boss, nearly throttling him before Lee Sanderson
succeeded in pulling him away and wrestling him to a halt.
"It's true, Delray!" Sanderson rasped. "It's all true. Get hold
of yourself, now. Why the hell would we be telling you this if it wasn't the
truth?"
Chandler's purpling face slowly regained its normal ruddy hue. "Y'see,"
he pointed out, "we could have just turned down the loan, but we figured a
man ought to know about it when his wife is putting out. Naturally the husband
is always the last poor son- of-a-bitch to find out."
"It can't be," Ray said at last, groping his way to a chair as the
room seemed to spin around him and their faces and voices blurred. "It
can't be!" His Jeannette, his sweet innocent bride, dating other men,
causing a scandal, cheating? He knew her better than that, knew everything there
was to know about her, loved her, worshipped her. She wasn't capable of such a
thing. Never. "There's a mistake somewhere," he declared.
"Something has been, misinterpreted, blown up out of proportion. I know
Jeannette too well!"
"I pray you're right," John Chandler said fervently, "but it
looks bad. Now that you're takin' the news a little better and more
sensible-like, I'm going to tell you the worst, Ray. They're saying in the beer
gardens and joints around town that your wife is a nymphomaniac, that she'll
take on anyone. They go right up to your place while you're in the store! I
didn't believe it myself, Ray, hell, who could when they'd met that sweet little
gal? But when even the women got wind of it and started yakking about the
scandal - well, you know my office windows look right out on the square?"
Ray nodded, "I've seen it myself, son, seen men, even young punk kids,
going in at your door. Now that of itself don't prove anything, but it don't
look good, either."
"No," Ray shook his head, "Jeannette wouldn't do anything like
that in, in our own house. There is an explanation, there must be. Maybe, I
thought her piano pupils were all girls, but t- there could be boys. One thing,
I'm going to find out what's going on, and if you've slandered my wife, I'll sue
you for every cent in this goddamned bank!"
"I've had my say," the silver-tongued Chandler looked pained at Ray's
threatening statement, "There's just one thing more. If you were to go home
right now, Ray, I think you'd find Jeannette with a visitor. I saw a fellow go
in just about the time you came over here."
With a strangled exclamation, the young pharmacist leaped up and headed for the
door.
"Hold on!" Lee Sanderson called after him, "John and I are coming
along, we don't want any murders or mayhem," They followed his loping pace
at a brisk trot, but could not keep up with the long, fevered strides of the
younger man. "Go on, Lee," Chandler panted, "I'm going to bring
Drake. All hell may break loose over there!" His car was handily parked at
the curb and it took only seconds to release the big German Shepherd from the
rear. The dog bounded ahead as if he knew their destination by instinct.
It would have been impossible to chart Ray Delray's thoughts as he ran
half-blindly in the direction of his home, unseeing of cars that narrowly missed
him or acquaintances who spoke when he passed them with his head down. He felt
as though both body and mind were dissolving into pieces, blown apart by the
shattering suggestion that his young bride was unfaithful, an adulteress, and in
the eyes of the righteous hypocrites of Magnolia, little better than a whore!
Never! He couldn't accept it, there would have had to be some hint, she couldn't
pretend to him, or live a lie like that, they were too close. Besides, he of all
people in the world knew that Jeannette was not and never could be a
nymphomaniac. She was, in fact, the next thing to frigid! Sex caused a revulsion
in her that he was well aware of, to his sorrow, but that he had not been able
to overcome with all his patience and tenderness in approaching her.
He stumbled, a ghastly thought had taken possession of his reeling mind. What if
- he'd heard of such women - what if Jeannette had abnormal desires? What if she
could only be aroused by brutality, turned on by violent sex? Unthinkable, but
not impossible. But why, then, hadn't she sought his help, confided in him?
If she had been unfaithful, well, it was too much to contemplate what he would
do in such a case. He groaned in misery and apprehension as he pushed open the
unlocked first floor door. He stood there at the foot of the stairs trying to
compose himself sufficiently to, HE HEARD VOICES UP THERE.
Christ, he wanted to run, take the steps three-at-a-time. But drumming into him
was the more dominant thought, easy, slowly, don't give her any warning, catch
her in the act. He mounted the long flight, cat-like.
Unreal. The bedroom door was wide open. They hadn't even taken the trouble to
close the door. He moved in a vacuum, weightless, the room became a giant bubble
enclosing him and the couple on the bed, no sounds intruded but their bestial
cries as they urged each other on.
The foremost sight which presented itself to the incredulous eyes of the
cuckolded husband was the enormous muscular white rump of a man on his knees,
hunching over the softer, smaller asscheeks of his partner, spreading the
stretched white moons cruelly apart. Between the man's legs his hairy balls hung
down, dancing obscenely in the palpating fingers of a little feminine hand, his
wife's hand.
The husband rocked back as though driven by an unseen fist, clutching the door
frame for support. When he had partially recovered his senses, he started to
move forward again when his arm was seized from behind by the wheezing figure of
Lee Sanderson who had just entered the doorway, his eyes, too, bugging nearly
out of their sockets.
The son-of-a-bitch is fucking her in the ass, Ray groaned, his vision narrowing
to the hardened pole of flesh that disappeared completely into the stretched,
red hole between her flattened asscheeks, drawing the tender pink ridges of anal
flesh back on the outward stroke. Jeannette's face was not that of a frigid
woman. Dear Jesus, no, she wasn't resisting the furious untamed strokes that
pummeled her unprotected ass, she was undulating and waving her upraised
asscheeks salaciously back on his god damn cock. In dazed anguish Ray stared
down at the incredible wanton performance of his wife, and to his sick
amazement, Ray felt his own cock jerk with unwanted lust at the lurid sight of
this huge stranger burying his endless cock deep into the writhing asscheeks of
his helplessly kneeling wife. Christ, she was reveling in her own debasement and
being ass-fucked by this lousy brute, now she had her own fingers up in her
raging pussy and was yelling "Oh, Oh, Oh God! It's wonderful! Fuck harder!
Harder, fill my belly with your cum! Fill me!"
"Jesus H. Christ," the ejaculation burst from John Chandler, who had
joined them, "Look at her go," he marveled, as they stared, rooted, at
the perverted coupling which was taking place before their incredulous eyes.
Next time I give Spanish Fly to a bitch, I'll take a turn at her first myself,
Chandler was thinking. He wouldn't have any further trouble with either of the
Delrays, he felt sure, Ray's getting his proof, all the proof a man would ever
need to know that his supposedly innocent wife was a whore, as for Jeannette,
she'd never be able to hold her head up in Magnolia when this one got around.
There had been some anxious moments, but his experiment had worked perfectly,
after all. He thought he saw great possibilities for the future use of the
aphrodisiac in keeping bitches like Jeannette Delray in line.
And then, suddenly, a slim furred black and tan body slipped past the three men
and bounded right up on the bed with a joyous bark of recognition of two people
the dog knew well.
"Drake!" Tully paused to mutter in surprise. Where the hell had the
dog come from? Followed him and pushed the door open? But it would have taken
more than Drake's presence to dislodge him from the girl's wide-stretched ass
As for Jeannette, nothing else mattered in the world at that moment, only the
awareness that instead of feeling shame and humiliation from the vile,
unspeakable act he was submitting her to, she felt only an uncontrollable desire
to reach the peak that was building, building tantalizingly deep inside her, and
as he increased his assault into her warm, spongy passage her belly and loins
screamed for release. Trickles of moisture inched down the gaping crevice
between her straining ass-cheeks and on down the backs of her thighs.
Whining softly, the great, well-trained dog nuzzled eagerly at the naked
shoulders of the woman whose scent he remembered, his mate. Instinctive canine
excitement had gripped his hairy flanks even as every man watching was
undeniably affected by the carnal vulgarity of the spectacle on the bed. Had it
been another dog pumping into Jeannette's willingly upthrust asscheeks, there is
no doubt Drake would have fought it for supremacy and the right to plunge his
own animal cock into her, but in these circumstances he only panted and whined
his distress and backed his hind legs, repeatedly against Jeannette's kneeling
form.
"Oh, Drake, boy," she gasped out, raising her head to stare at the
red, shiny dart that was inching out of the dog's long black sheath. He was
aroused, the dog wanted to fuck her, too, and why not, she asked herself, they
all wanted it - men, dogs, the whole world wanted to fuck, and right now, Oh
God, right now she felt as if she could fuck the whole world and it would not be
enough, she could never get enough!
"Holy Christ!" Lee Sanderson exclaimed, "Drake's going after her,
she wants the God-damned dog, too, but there's no room for him to get in."
Shifting her weight to one arm, Jeannette suddenly and involuntarily reached
out, under the animal's belly and touched the tapered, red, wet point of his
cock. It fascinated her so she had to feel it, had to help the poor dumb beast
to satisfaction, he deserved it more than these filthy men who had used her body
for every unthinkable purpose, Drake was a hell of a lot nobler than they were.
Patiently, as if he understood her efforts to relieve him, the animal edged
closer and closer until the woman's head was actually under his stomach and she
continued to carefully massage and play with his animal cock.
"Suck it, bitch! Suck it!" the lewd suggestion burst from Chandler's
curled, sneering mouth.
And she did. She simply opened her mouth and let the slender red point insert
itself between her sensually parted lips, right into her mouth until it nearly
touched the back of her throat and she began to move her tongue experimentally
around the strange presence, savoring the sweet tangy taste. Excitement at the
vile, disgusting thing she was doing began to grow inside her as the length of
the growing shaft began to shoot into her mouth in regular rhythm. The perverted
ecstasy of being fucked from behind into her anus while the hard animal penis
sawed into her ovalled mouth nearly drove her insane. She wanted Drake to squirt
his canine sperm into her mouth, wanted to taste his hot cum, and she sucked
hungrily at his quivering cock while Tully buried his hard length in the
forbidden depths of her ravaged ass.
Ray was nearly mad from the sight of the horrifying depravity taking place in
front of him, yet, perversely, his cock had swelled into painful hardness that
lay hotly against his stomach. His wife sucked on and on at Drake's furiously
pistoning shaft while guttural sounds of joy purred in her throat.
Suddenly, Drake whimpered as his glossy, strong body began to jerk convulsively
and his haunches curved inwards. Jeannette's mouth was flooded with a hot, thick
stream of sticky liquid which threatened to choke her as it poured lewdly down
her desperately swallowing throat. Voraciously, she sucked and swallowed,
gulping down the hot dog-cum as Drake whined again and her whole self was filled
with rapturous masochistic feelings of unnatural joy. The organ began quickly to
deflate while she still held it between her clasping lips, and then it withdrew
from her and slipped back into its long sheath and the dog's warmth retreated
from her.
Ray groaned inwardly as he watched his wife swallow the last pungent drops of
the animal cum, running the pink tip of her tongue delicately around her lips to
capture the last stringy drops. And then, suddenly he saw her mouth open again,
gasping, as she uttered a scream and began to flail her head wildly from side to
side, her matted, tangled hair swinging over her perspiration-soaked white
shoulders. He sensed that she was in the beginning throes of an orgasm, and he
stared hypnotized as she screwed her asscheeks salaciously back against Tully's
bulk like a rutting bitch dog. She screamed and moaned again and again as she
rammed back insanely. She had never dreamed that such wanton, abandoned pleasure
could exist in this world, she was gone!
Tully seized her white rounded asscheeks as they began to contract
uncontrollably, signifying the intensity of her climax deep in her quaking
belly. He forced her waving ass to near- stillness and looked down to see the
thick white fluid that oozed out of her pulsating, clasping cunt while her ass
squeezed his prick until he thought it would blow apart.
"Aaaaaaaahhhhh, Oooooohhhh," she moaned out her beautiful,
overwhelming release, rocked by diminishing spasms of unending bliss.
"S-h-i-i-i-t," he mouthed, "I'm cumming!" and he rammed into
her with such force she thought his long prick would come up in her throat. She
felt him behind her jerking against her flattened buttock moons and then a
powerful surge of swirling, sticky sperm shot deep up in her ass, filling her,
flooding her back passage. He gasped out a final groan of relief and she felt
him pulling back and out of her, until suddenly there was a lewd popping sound
and the cool blissful air poured into the forever- stretched hole of her
tortured anus. Her milk-white asscheeks gleamed wetly before the excited
on-lookers who could look right up her fringed pink pussy slit with its wet,
cum-soaked pubic hair, as she fell forward limply, exhausted.
Esther Babcock had remained for a long time with her hand still on the receiver
of the telephone, trying to come to a decision. She had overheard all of the
brief conversation between Mr. Chandler and Tully Fairchild, and her alert mind
told her that something unusual was happening today in town. She knew Chandler,
knew every evil nuance of his warped personality and lust for power. She knew
even better about his other lust, the insatiable sexual appetite. No woman was
too important, nor too unimportant, for him to seduce.
What in heaven's name did he want with the Spanish Fly? The stuff was available
to every farmer or breeder who had a legitimate need of it, so why should he
send Tully so hastily to fetch it? Whatever, she was sure he was up to no good
and she bet someone was going to get hurt. She even could guess who that someone
was.
But in a few weeks now she would be free, free for a long time and maybe for
good, of her despised boss. They were going to Florida for the whole winter and
she would come out to the big house only every other week or so to check on
things. And while Chandler was away, Esther intended to be sure she got
pregnant. God, married four years now and she'd never dared, never been able to
stop taking the pill as long as she worked in this household, because if she'd
gotten pregnant there would be no way of knowing for sure whose baby it was, her
husband's or Chandler's!
Tears of shame welled up in her luminous eyes as she recalled for the thousandth
time the day she'd come to work here, fresh out of high school and engaged to
marry Luke Babcock, the day Chandler had seen her and wanted her. What chance
had a poor little black girl had against a man of his cunning? He'd owned her
body just as surely as his ancestors had owned their slaves a century ago. After
her wedding she thought he'd have the decency to leave her alone, but of course
he had no decency whatever, he simply controlled her now through her husband,
through Luke's foreman's job at the sawmill. There wasn't any union or job
security at the mill and Esther knew he could make good on his threat to have
Luke fired, any time he felt like it. But he couldn't insist that she keep on
working here if she was pregnant, he'd have to let her go then!
Lord almighty, sometimes she'd felt so desperate about the situation she'd even
thought of killing him, God forgive her. The worst thing of all was the loathing
he'd created in her for her own weak self, making her hate herself worse each
time she let him use her body, because he could always make her do it and make
her enjoy it before he was through fucking her, and he did, forcing her to beg
him for it and use dirty words, that was what gave him the biggest thrill of
all, a woman begging him for cock,
"Esther!" a petulant voice called.
She gave a guilty start and hurried into Miss Laura's bedroom, remembering that
when the telephone rang she'd been about to replenish the ice in Miss Laura's
ice bag.
Her mistress had tied a good one on this weekend, all right. Esther never
remembered her looking so bad or being so sick. She was still a beautiful woman,
even in her forties, why did she want to go ruining her looks with booze?
'Course being married to him was reason enough, the pretty maid thought grimly,
though she knew that was not the root cause of Mrs. Chandler's alcoholism. That
was probably boredom, as much as anything, and as she often did, Esther felt a
quick, genuine surge of pity for the spoiled, wealthy woman who lay there in her
exquisite bedroom, sick as a dog. Miss Laura led a plainly useless life, and
everybody needed something useful to occupy themselves. Esther hoped it would be
better in Florida, and Mrs. Chandler would find some new interest there.
She entered the darkened room and moved methodically about her task of taking
ice cubes from the plastic bucket on the dresser and stuffing them into the
round ice bag.
"Who was that on the phone?" Laura murmured weakly from the bed,
squinting her red, aching eyes against even the dim light that filtered through
the heavy drapes.
"Mr. Chandler," Esther said shortly, "wanted to talk to
Tully."
She moved to her mistress's side and gently smoothed back the blonde hair that
was piled high atop Laura's small, well-shaped head. The woman's face was a sick
grey beneath her deep tan and the absence of any make-up revealed a network of
fine, nearly invisible wrinkles at the corners of her wide blue eyes, as well as
a faint sagging of the flesh beneath her tiny chin. Even like this, she could
still be considered attractive, particularly if one passed over the dull, ashen
face to the sun-browned body which was still youthfully firm and slender.
Beneath the filmy peach- colored nightgown the outlines of a full swelling bosom
were delineated, right to the dark, slightly withered nipples. Her hands, with
long blood-red nails in startling contrast to the pastel shades of the room and
the wan features of their owner, twisted nervously in her lap. Very gently the
maid lowered the ice bag to the woman's forehead, adjusting it to conform to her
brow-line.
"Fix me some tomato juice, will you?" Laura instructed, "Someone
told me the other day that tomato juice was good for a hangover. God, it can't
hurt to try," she grimaced in pain.
"Yes, Ma'am," Esther said, "You want some toast with it? You got
to try to eat something."
"No, not yet, I couldn't. What's the matter, Esther - are you crying?"
"Why, no, Ma'am," Esther brushed her cheek, trying to smile and
failing.
"You are! Now, come on, what is it? I want you to tell me, Esther."
"It's nothing, honest. Just I was a little worried about somethin', that's
all."
"All right, what are you worried about? I won't be able to rest until I
know, so you might as well come out with it." Laura was never able to abide
a secret, she had a child's unquenchable desire to pry into everything, whether
it concerned her or not. "Is it because we're going away?"
"No'm, I'm just worried about somethin' I heard Mr. Chandler say, just now,
on the phone. I was listening," she admitted, the wish to share her secret
terrible knowledge with someone else overpowering her sense of discretion.
"Well, what did he say?" cried the exasperated Laura, wincing as darts
of pain shot through her skull.
"He told Tully he wanted him to fetch some Spanish Fly, 'n bring it to town
right away, to the bank."
"S-spanish Fly?" She could not help but smile slightly at the mention
of the stuff. The very words had a lewd connotation, of whispered unmentionable
things that passed furtively between children sharing their back-alley-acquired
sexual information and misinformation.
"What would that do to a woman, if she took some of that Spanish Fly?"
Esther inquired earnestly, "It would set her crazy, wouldn't it, Miss
Laura?"
"I - I don't know. We used to hear things, when we were kids, but I never
knew of any actual cases, I know it's dangerous to take too much, though. But
what makes you think of that? All the farmers around here use it, so it's not
unusual that John would ask Tully to fetch some," but as she tried to make
light of the girl's suspicions, it occurred to Laura that it was rather a funny
request, and might indeed be an indication of some deviltry. God knew, her
husband was capable of many things, Esther had no business listening on the
extension, probably did it all the time, listened to her calls, too, the little
sneak, but why the hell was she worried enough to cry over it?
"I know, but Mr. Chandler said," the maid began fearfully, "he
told me the other day there was this certain lady who was givin' him a hard time
about something and he was gonna have to do something about it. A-an' I wouldn't
want anything bad to happen to this lady, Like the others," she added in a
low, monotonous voice.
"What others?" through her jarring, all-pervading headache, something
was beginning to get through to Laura Chandler that here was no ordinary
household crisis, but something deeper and darker, of ominous proportions. She
had long ago gotten used to Esther's extraordinary beauty, or so she thought,
but now she was noting it all over again, the flawless dusky skin, the body that
was so harmoniously molded, the thick black hair that glimmered in loose waves,
the dark red, trembling lips. She was almost positive now that Esther was making
some reference to the amorous exploits of her husband, well, she knew he had
them, had known for years that he would chase any skirt on the horizon. They had
had a sort of mutual understanding, never spelled out but honored on both sides,
don't tell me and I won't tell you. Because she had done her share of playing
around, seldom now, though. It was such a small town and their friends were
really a very limited circle, not much opportunity for new conquests, and
lately, with the drinking, she hadn't cared very much about the lack of
different talent. She'd always supposed John would have the sense to be discrete
about anything he got mixed up in, the Sanderson name still counted for
something around here and marriage to her meant that he had to conduct himself
accordingly, John knew that. And if he'd been screwing Esther behind her back,
making a fool out of his wife in her own ancestral home and creating gossip
about them in town, she'd kill him, that's all, she'd kill him! And she goddamn
well knew he had been screwing the little bitch, else why would he discuss other
women with Esther, or Esther be scared out of her cotton-picking wits?
Forcing the excruciating pain of her throbbing head and the queasy condition of
her dry, empty stomach from her thoughts, she sat up straight against the
pillows, with a regal gesture. "Get me a drink, you little fool!"
"Miz Chandler! You hadn't better have any whiskey yet!"
"I said to get me a drink."
The harried black girl rushed to comply, seeing that Miss Laura was determined
to have it and knowing that thwarting her would only make matters worse for
herself. She brought back an old-fashioned glass half full of whiskey and handed
it silently to her mistress. Laura tilted her head back and swallowed the liquid
straight. A drop escaped from the quivering corner of her parched lips and she
wiped it away with the back of a red-nailed hand. As the burning fluid coiled
warmly within her belly she felt steadier within seconds, her ragged nerves
steadying.
"Now, Esther," she began in a more conciliatory tone, "there's
nothing to be scared of. I'm not going to be angry with you, but I just want you
to tell me all about what's bothering you, tell it right from the
beginning."
"Yes, Ma'am," the maid murmured, head down. An overpowering sense of
relief at the prospect of ridding herself of the burden of guilt nearly overcame
her. She started twice and had to stop. At last the words of confession began to
flow. "The beginning? That was a long time ago, Miss Laura. Yes, ma'am, the
bad things have been goin' on for a long time,
The best I ever had, Tully Fairchild told himself contentedly, the absolute
fucking best. He lay prone for several seconds, awash in the euphoric sea of
satisfaction and drained as he had never been before in a sexual encounter. At
last he moved, heaving his big frame clumsily off the bed to reach for his
hastily discarded clothing. In the process, he half-turned around and he halted
right there in a grotesque position, and stared at the trio of men filling the
doorway. Shit, they'd fooled him good, he'd never figured on putting on no
peep-show. That cussed Chandler and his brother-in-law had followed him over
here to gawk at the action, well, 'tween him and the dog he guessed they'd seen
enough to raise a couple of good hard-ons! But by God, the other guy - he was
the fucking bitch's husband!
Tully stepped backward, caught in the classic low-comedy position of having his
pants down, which sure as hell wasn't too funny, after all. He expected the guy
to bust him one, or let fly with a load of buckshot at any second, and if he had
a gun it was all over, because Tully hadn't, his shotgun was out there mounted
across the rear window of the pickup, damn it all. So he tensed himself and
waited, one foot in his pants. Around here if a guy caught someone screwing his
wife, folks considered he had a perfect right to shoot.
Ray Delray had no gun, though, and Chandler and Sanderson were restraining him
from leaping on Tully.
"Best thing you can do, son," advised his boss, "is pack up and
get out of town. Take her along, if you still want her after seein' this, ain't
no future for you here. I reckon you see now what we were talking about?"
Jeannette had pushed herself up from the tumbled bed on hearing their voices and
now, propped on one bare arm, she was staring in terror at the figure of her
husband.
"Oh, Christ," he muttered brokenly, "S-Jeannette, my God,
Jeannette, how could you do it?"
She wanted to cry out to him that she could explain, but what would have been
the use? After he'd seen, watched her suck a dog's cock while at the same time a
man had fucked her in the ass, and her begging for more, there could be no
explanation that would ever satisfy him, there was no explanation for her
disgusting, unnatural behavior. God knew, she herself was puzzled even as she
did it, puzzled as to what perverted compulsion had taken hold of her and guided
her body against her very own will, all she knew was that at the time, she had
to have cock or go out of her mind! Even now, even now when she'd had her fill
of more fucking than any normal woman could take, her cunt still burned and
twitched. Oh, yes, God help her, but it was true, she would gladly take on
another man right now, right this very minute! What husband could understand
that? She'd lost him, lost everything, she was ruined.
And then, her eyes widened in absolute disbelief as yet two more figures pushed
their way into the boxy little bedroom. Laura Chandler, looking like the wrath
of God with her blonde hair tumbled and no makeup on her ravaged face, and
behind her a voluptuously lovely black girl in a crisp white uniform. Laura
reached into the little straw purse she carried and there was a gun in her hand
when she brought it out, a small but very lethal looking blue-black revolver.
"You son of a bitch," the gun barrel came up slowly and leveled
unmistakably at her husband. "You low down white-slaver. No, don't you move
- you're not going anywhere, no one in this room leaves until we hear the whole
story! Now, John, who did you feed the Spanish Fly to?"
"Laura, honey," Chandler's voice was a pleading, ingratiating whine,
"you're sick. You shouldn't be out of bed! For God's sake put the gun away
and let's talk sensible."
"You sent Tully to town with Spanish Fly, John," his wife ignored his
remarks, "It was for Mrs. Delray, wasn't it? You see, I know, but I want to
hear you say it," The gun barrel wobbled noticeably and she moved closer to
her husband, close enough for him to smell the odor of liquor and know she'd
been on the bottle again. He looked down the little hole that was no more than a
half-inch in diameter and he knew there was only the thinnest of threads
separating him from death.
"All right! Yes, yes, I - we gave her just a little, didn't do her any
harm, she's all right, see? She's all right!"
"Maybe," Laura said cynically, "and are the others all right,
too, John? All the teenage girls and the young brides, like Esther here? Did you
leave them in good condition when you got through with them? You filthy bastard
- I ought to kill you right now and make an end of your miserable existence. You
- dragging my fam'ly name through the mud and disgracin' us all, corrupting my
brother, making him do your dirty work for you, you lowdown white trash!"
John Chandler's handsome, confident features seemed to dissolve under his wife's
venomous onslaught. He saw the imminent collapse of everything he had built up
so painstakingly over the years, his influence destroyed, and then, a white-hot
pain knifed through his upper arm and seared into his shoulder. In seconds the
muscles of his chest were constricted with it, strangling his life breath, he
thought she had fired the gun, shot him down, but then he knew it was something
else squeezing him with agony.
Before their shocked eyes he crumpled to the floor, gasping, "Get Doc! Get
Doc!"
The tobacco-brown station wagon nosed into an angled parking place at the curb
in front of the drugstore. In the back, Drake whined and wiggled his sinuous
form expectantly.
"No, boy," Laura chided the big dog affectionately, "Stay. I'll
only be a few minutes, and then we're going for a nice ride. OK?" The dog
sat down patiently.
She opened the door and stepped out gracefully, the flash of exposed brown thigh
drawing a flicker of interest from two loafers who were ranged along the curb.
She did not mind, and in fact deliberately let her firm, round asscheeks
undulate a bit more than was usual as she stepped up to the parking meter and
slid a coin into it. Then she walked into the drugstore, quite aware of the
ogling pair of eyes that followed her progress. Well, Laura thought, if you can
still get attention at my age why not give 'em a little ass-wiggle or two,.
brighten their day? Good for their morale as well as hers.
Her morale was high, and her contentment showed in the brisk, purposeful way she
entered the store, smiling at Miss Minnie as she moved along the aisles,
surveying the merchandise displays. The change from the dark, dusty interior of
the store as it had been never failed to amaze Laura, although the remodeling
had been completed for a good two months now.
"Hi, partner!" she called out gaily as she approached the gleaming new
prescription counter. Ray Delray looked up from his desk with an answering
smile.
"Hello, partner." There was a special warmth in his voice which might
have suggested to a listener that there was something more here than a simple
business relationship.
She really knew how to dress, Ray was thinking. A simple, expensive
button-down-the-front cotton dress that might have looked severe on a figure
that was less well-endowed. Ripe, that was the word. Ripe, without an ounce of
extra flesh, a figure that care and exercise had made the equal if not the envy
of the average woman fifteen years younger than Laura Chandler. The petulance
and boredom had disappeared from her face and her eyes were clear and sparkling.
She pushed through the little gate that led to the prescription department, with
a nod and pleasant word to the new assistant pharmacist, and seated herself on
Ray's desk, one long tanned leg swinging and the rather brief dress hiked up to
a point on her thigh that was barely decent.
"Well, how do the books look, partner?" Laura bent right over the
ledger so that the point of her full right breast nearly touched the open page.
"Well, they look damn good, but it's a bit hard to keep my mind on the
profit and loss statement with such, uh, distractions," Ray laid his pen
down and deliberately let his hand rest against the warmth of her flattened
thigh.
"Mmmmmmmmmm," she purred, glancing around the store to see if anyone
was watching and then wriggling closer to him as a loose, pleasant feeling
pervaded her lower body, "just keep on making money for us and I won't
bother my head about the books. Do you know why I'm here, darling?"
"Couldn't keep away a moment longer, I reckon?" he teased.
"Shame on you," she wriggled again as his hand began to move slowly
along her upper leg with insinuating pressure, "I'm here to fetch you.
Jeannette phoned and suggested, since I'm coming to dinner at your place anyway,
that I give you a ride and save her the trouble of picking you up."
"God, is it actually that late?" he consulted his watch. "Funny,
how the time goes these days, I always used to be watching the clock,
when," he paused, leaving the statement unfinished, but they both knew he
meant to say when I was working for John. They avoided reference to Laura's late
husband, not out of regret but merely because the subject was still distasteful.
It was now six months since the day he had collapsed in the bedroom of the
Delray's apartment over the drugstore and died a few hours later in the
hospital, of a massive heart attack. From conversations with their family
doctor, Laura learned that her husband had tricked her right up to the last. Doc
had not been expecting John to have a heart attack, he was, in fact, surprised,
and attributed it to the unusual stress of the occasion. None of those present
that day had revealed that Laura had threatened her husband with a gun; by
mutual agreement all of the sordid facts had been concealed. Lee Sanderson of
course was glad to keep silent, as was Tully Fairchild, as he was promised a
permanent job as manager of Laura's farm, and Esther knew that her husband's job
at the sawmill was his as long as he wanted it.
The story given out was that there had been an argument of the pending sale of
the drugstore, and John Chandler had become too excited. After his death Laura
abandoned all thought of the Florida apartment, she'd never wanted to go to
Florida anyway and had only agreed because she thought it would be beneficial to
her husband's health. Nor did she sell the drugstore. A partnership agreement
was drawn up between Ray Delray and Laura, with Ray receiving very favorable
terms and a loan from the Sanderson personal funds to finance the purchase of
his share.
Laura had at last found something to occupy her time in straightening out the
tangled business affairs of her late husband. She began to take an active
interest in the various things, especially the store, and her drinking problem
improved almost immediately. Now it could be said that it was no longer a
problem at all - apparently she had not reached the point of real addiction to
alcohol, as she was able to take a couple of drinks and then voluntarily call a
halt.
"Yes, it is that late," she swung her small foot, observing with
hardly concealed pleasure the effect that the motion of her shapely leg had on
Ray. "How soon can you be ready?"
"Oh, Jack and Miss Minnie can close up. I'll be right with you." He
pushed his chair back and stood up, stretching wide. Ray had gained some needed
weight and had lost the harried, worried look he had worn in his earlier months
in Magnolia.
Jeannette had given him a set of golf clubs for Christmas, shortly after they
joined the country club, and as often as the mild Arkansas winter permitted he
had been on the course, taking lessons from the club pro.
In a few minutes the owners of the drugstore were getting into the station
wagon, where Drake ecstatically greeted Ray with barks and thumping wags of his
tail. Laura piloted the car expertly around the square and through the outskirts
of Magnolia and in five minutes they were turning in at Hickory Acres.
"What did you think of the housewarming party?" Ray inquired, his eyes
going proudly to the brand new pink brick colonial ranch type house into which
he and Jeannette had moved the previous week. Laura shrugged.
"I reckon it was a great success, everybody was there. But personally, I do
prefer more intimate parties, with just you and Jeannette and a few of our
special friends," her prettily curved lips parted in a cat-like little
smile.
"So do I, darling," Ray assured her, "but for the occasion, with,
as you said, everyone there, we had to be careful not to shock some of our more,
uh, sedate citizens. Not everybody in Magnolia swings, as I'm sure you've
noticed."
"Thank God, some people do," Laura giggled wickedly, "and thank
God you and Jeannette joined our 'inner circle'."
"Well, there'll just be the three of us tonight," he said as she
braked the car in his driveway, "but we'll have to see if we can give the
new place a real housewarming!"
Jeannette appeared at the side door as they climbed out of the car and Drake,
released at last, bounded right up to her, barking joyously. She ruffled his fur
affectionately, smiling a welcome to Laura and her own darling Ray. Jeannette
still couldn't get over the way things had worked out for them, and just when
the future had appeared so bleak. She had found, after that nasty John Chandler
was out of the picture, that Laura was really not stuck-up at all and the two
women had become close friends. Laura had seen to it that the Delrays were
welcomed into the very private little group of more modern Magnolia couples who
had adopted a 20th century attitude toward sex and particularly group sex. At
the time it all happened, Ray had deplored the terrible experiences Jeannette
had been put through, but he now wondered if it had not been for the best in the
long run. At least she had been initiated - however drastically - into the
pleasure of the male-female relationship.
Jeannette led them into the living room, one arm around Ray's waist and the
other encircling Laura's slimness. "I'm a lousy bartender," she
confided, "but I put all the fixings out, build us some drinks, Ray?"
He complied with the request and then they all seated themselves around the long
living room which was not as yet completely furnished but had all the
essentials.
"How was your day?" Jeannette asked her husband warmly, her grey eyes
lingering on his long body with a gleam of, could it be desire?
"Good. Thursday's getting to be almost as big a day as Friday or
Saturday."
"Yes, that's what Lee was saying," Laura remarked, "By the way,
Jeannette, Lee and his wife really had a good time at your open house. I don't
think I've ever seen that prig he's married to unbend quite so much. Why, one of
these days we might even recruit them for some fun and games."
"Oh, I'm sure we could recruit Lee right now," Jeannette laughed
knowingly, "but that wife of his is something else. She reminds me of, of
me, the way I used to be."
"Yeah," her husband nodded, "the way you used to be, B.S."
"Why, Ray Delray, hush your mouth!" his wife giggled.
"I wasn't referring to the common expression 'bull shit'," he said
loftily. "I meant 'before sex'."
"What were you planning for dinner?" Laura changed the subject,
"I hope you didn't go to a lot of trouble."
"No, not at all. The salad's in the refrigerator and the baked potatoes are
finished and in the warming oven. It's just a matter of putting the steaks on
the grill."
"Hmmmmm," Ray looked from one woman to the other. The drink had
relaxed him and was having a pleasantly languorous effect, except on his penis,
which was stirring down there in his pants as he contemplated the girls he
referred to as his two partners. "Then why not postpone dinner for a little
while. Did I show you the new master bedroom the other night, Laura? There's one
feature that's very handy, the king size bed. I think it would hold all of us
without any crowding, right, Jeannette?"
His wife smiled as a tingling excitement commenced to make itself felt in her
loins as she grasped his meaning. "Lovely idea. Will you give us a guided
tour?"
"Just follow me!" He set down his empty glass and all three stood up
eagerly and trooped toward the bedroom, Drake following, nosing his way through
the door after them.
"What a dog!" Laura groaned, "He never misses out on a chance for
some pussy, he's really shocking, sometimes, but you know, since I'm alone, I do
find it's nice to have Drake around, there are times when a dog is woman's best
friend!"
The trio undressed rapidly and soon were all sprawled naked on the huge bed. Ray
lay on his back in the center, his enormous, erect cock pointing toward the
ceiling like a flagpole as he slowly stroked the uncircumcised head to even
greater hardness, rolling the thick fold of skin down until the purplish, blood-
engorged tip quivered with arousal. Laura leaned over him, staring down fondly
at the big prick she had seen many times now but still found thrilling in a
lewd, vulgarly fascinating way. Just the sight of it and the thought of it
pushing up inside a woman was enough to moisten the hair-fringed folds of her
cunt lips as her secretions oozed from her heated vagina and she pressed her
thighs together to further stimulate the exciting flow. Ray reached up with one
hand and began to fondle her breasts which hung pendulously over his flat
stomach, their dark nipples hardening under his fingers.
Jeannette's long soft body lay on his other side, fitted closely to his. She lay
on her back, watching with lewd interest her husband's caressing of their
friend's full-swelling breasts. God, she was hot already, sometimes she thought
the Spanish Fly had not completely passed out of her body yet, though she knew
that was impossible. But ever since that day she had unwittingly swallowed the
powerful aphrodisiac, Jeannette had welcomed sex, in fact, she eagerly sought it
from her husband, and then, when construction began on their new home in Hickory
Acres they had met some couples in the subdivision and had been invited to a few
parties, gradually, carefully, the subject had been broached, little hints were
dropped that here was one part of Magnolia where the inhabitants had been
liberated from old-fashioned sexual taboos. It had not taken long for the
Delrays to join in, and with them, Laura Chandler.
Ray's free hand came to rest on Jeannette's little belly, feeling her instant,
quivering response. She sighed and pushed her thighs slightly apart, waiting
tensely for his hand to slide, as she knew it would, into the warm, damp "vee"
between her legs and play with her hot pussy. Aaaahhh, his probing fingers found
her clit and began to steadily manipulate the sensitive little nub of flesh and
Jeannette moaned contentedly and screwed her asscheeks into the soft mattress as
she opened her legs wider and wider to him.
"You lazy gals are making me do all the work." Ray complained jokingly
as he continued to arouse them both by means of his strong hands.
"Oh, all right, I'll take pity on you," Laura sighed, letting her hand
go to his desire-swollen penis and grip its thickness that she could hardly
contain in her small fingers. As she carefully smoothed back the foreskin, Ray
groaned and writhed in pleasure. She quickly crawled to the foot of the bed,
spreading his legs apart and crawling up between them, her excitement mounting
to feverish heights at the mere thought of what she was getting ready to do to
him. Still working the foreskin up and down over the velvety smooth cock-head,
Laura dropped her face until her mouth was almost touching his extended rod.
Tantalizingly, she blew her soft breath on him and he groaned with pleasure. Her
tongue flicked out and made delicious warm moist contact with the rubbery
bulbous tip. She ran her tongue in a circle around it, while his big body
twisted until she found the tiny crevice and pushed her tongue-tip into it,
savoring the pungent flavor of his seminal fluid that had seeped from the
minuscule opening. Her nostrils flared with lewd excitement and prickles of
desire teased the nerve-ends of her body as she relished every savory drop. Both
of her hands now smoothed down his pointing shaft and caressed the velvet-smooth
softness of his testicles. Cupping his sac in one palm, she again pulled back
his foreskin until the ponderous, naked head stood starkly revealed, slowly,
shaping her lips into an oval, she lowered them onto the rubbery cock-head
letting it rub against the lip-covered ridge of her teeth as her wet mouth slid
down to encompass his maleness, down... down....
"That's it," Ray rasped as he began to push his hips upward against
her face in slow rhythmic movements. "Suck me, baby, suck hard!"
Laura did, now thoroughly excited by the lustful, debasing act she was
committing as her head bobbed up and down over his loins, his long, thick cock
spearing upward into her mouth while beside them his wife had risen on her elbow
to stare eagerly at the couple, her legs squeezed together to hold Ray's hand in
contact with her throbbing pussy flesh as she watched, her own head bent over
almost to Laura's as the older woman sucked voraciously now, her tongue swirling
furiously about the pulsing blood-filled knob that pumped in and out of her
obscenely clasping lips. Laura was humming wantonly deep in her throat as if
already in bliss at the masochistic thought of being filled with Ray's lewd
white sperm that might at any moment now flood her mouth and throat, indeed she
was thinking of that very thing, and her cunt began to quiver down below as her
lips locked tighter and tighter around the lust-hardened cock ramming upward
into her face until the crisp hairs of his loins brushed against her chin.
As for Jeannette, she could hardly have been more excited if she had been the
one hunched over her husband and sucking his thick cock, cheeks hollowing and
filling. Suddenly, Ray seized Laura's head with his left hand and held it while
he rammed cruelly up into her mouth. But Jeannette was tired of her onlooker's
role in the sensual, salacious drama and suddenly craved a more direct piece of
the action. Abruptly, she rolled over and got to her knees, crawling up
alongside Ray's long outstretched body and then, throwing one leg over him she
squatted down, lowering her passion-crazed cunt until it was positioned directly
over his mouth.
She shuddered with pleasure as she felt first his hot breath and then his long
wet tongue wetly probing into her lust-filled vagina. Her body responded with a
jolt of electric excitement. "Ooooooh, yes, wonderful, darling, lick it,
yes, eat my cunt!" She knew well how such obscenities further inspired her
husband to new plateaus of rapturous sexual activity. His long hot tongue curled
around her clit and began to dart lizard- like into her wide open pussy as she
squatted over his face in the most salacious position imaginable while below,
Laura continued her oral assault on his wildly jerking penis. As his tongue
raced deeper into the hotly seeping hole between her widespread thighs,
Jeannette continued to croon her delighted acceptance of his sucking of her
squirming cunt, her noises blending with the debased wet smacking sounds he was
making as he worked under her. Greedily, he licked the whole length of her
passion-drenched cuntal slit and she unconsciously pushed her hips slightly
forward as his tongue moved on to probe at her unprotected puckered little anus
ring. Her body was nearly consumed with raw excited joy as his tireless tongue
burrowed deeper, actually penetrating the forbidden little hole.
Laura's eyes flicked up to where the stretched moons of Jeannette's white
asscheeks nearly obliterated her view of Ray's face. She could see his tongue,
however, darting from his mouth and disappearing right up inside the straining
girl's gaping wet pussyslit. Ray's hands came around his wife's writhing hips to
seize Laura's blonde hair again and ram her mouth down further on his thickly
upthrusting cock. As her head went down, Laura suddenly had a glimpse of them
all in the wide mirror of the double dresser. By God, it was something, the
three obscenely jerking bodies, the two women both laboring over Ray's prostrate
form while Drake could only watch, alert and eagerly waiting for his turn which
he was perfectly intelligent enough to know was coming next. Spurred on by her
lewd thoughts, Laura Chandler plunged her bobbing head up and down over the
swollen rod of male flesh, laving its rock-hard tip with her tongue.
God, he must come soon, his cock felt as though it would split wide open it was
so hard, in her mounting passion, Laura suddenly rammed her hand down between
her own crouching thighs and shoved two fingers up into her steaming wet pussy.
"AAaaaaahhhhhh," she growled deep in her throat, rotating the fingers
and rummaging up into her own velvety warm cavern until she had established a
masturbatory rhythm that was infinitely pleasing and heightened her enjoyment of
Ray's cock. On and on she sucked, until Ray thought he would blow his mind as
his aching balls readied their load of white hot cum.
And then, it happened! With his tongue buried deep in his wife's cunt, Ray
grunted and grabbed at Laura's head, ramming it down onto his thick member until
all that protruded from her tightly ovalled lips was a tiny portion around the
hairy base. She felt it jerk in her mouth convulsively and then her throat
constricted as the semen began to gush out. She swallowed desperately, downing
big gulps of the hot, sticky flood. Her cheeks bloated and hollowed as her mouth
filled and emptied again and again and she wondered if there was an end to the
lewd stream pouring down her throat. Around her fingers sunk deep in her
palpitating vagina something sticky was oozing, God, she could almost make
herself cum if she tried, she was so goddamned hot... almost but not quite. She
felt his cock in her mouth rapidly deflating and soon it slipped completely out
of her still-clasping lips, pulling with it the last sticky strings of lewd
sperm. Laura backed off from him, wiping her mouth contentedly, but still
unsated. Then Drake whined, and she snapped her fingers and the magnificent
animal instantly bounded onto the bed and stood over her.
"I'll be your bitch," his mistress promised, getting to her hands and
knees and presenting the smooth white moons of her asscheeks to the big black
and tan German Shepherd who mounted her immediately, his glistening scarlet
penis unsheathed and extending to incredible length under his furry
hindquarters. His forepaws clasped at the narrow point of her waist and she felt
a drop of his saliva trickle onto her naked back as she waited patiently while
Drake stabbed at her open wet cuntal slit with his tapered dog-cock. Then, he
was in, gliding up into her with the smooth wet feeling that always nearly drove
her out of her mind with excitement. "Uuuunnhhhh!" she grunted and
pressed her asscheeks back against his quivering haunches to further impale
herself on his gleaming rod.
Meanwhile, Jeannette had waited patiently when she felt Ray jerk beneath her and
he began to grunt out his orgasm and this had interfered with the rhythm of his
tongue-thrusts into her pulsing vagina. She whimpered now, though, unable to
contain her debased craving for him to fill her again and suck her to her own
blissful completion. She ground her throbbing, stretched-open cunt against his
face, her very soul reveling with the thought of the enchantment that was
coming, for she knew her husband would not fail her desperate need for release.
Again his wet mouth clamped itself to her vagina and she rocked her hips back
and forth over him ecstatically while next to her the bed sagged under the
weight of Laura and the huge dog who was fucking her from behind. Jeannette
looked over her shoulder, marveling at the way the older woman was taking the
incredibly rapid lunges of the beast, and apparently loving them. Laura's head
was thrown back and her face, still streaked with Ray's drying semen that had
dribbled out of the corners of her mouth, was contorted with lust.
"Fuck me, Drake!" she was nearly screaming, "Come on, fuck
harder, fuck harder!"
The obscene spectacle sent chills of depraved excitement shooting through the
young bride and a desire to blurt out the lewd, lust-provoking words. "Oh,
fuck me, Ray!" she wailed. "Fuck me with your tongue, fuck me deep,
oh, oh, oh," she chanted and Ray screwed her harder with his long thick
tongue. His hands were at her asscheeks, pressing them together and pulling them
apart, kneading the twin mounds until she thought her rear crevice would split
from the pressure. Then his middle finger snaked forward and began to dig
straight up into her ass, poised temptingly above him.
"AAAuuuggghhhh!" she screamed as the stiff, prodding finger forced its
relentless way through the ring of muscle and popped into the warm spongy cavity
beyond. "Ooooohh," Jeannette wailed in pleasure-pain that rapidly gave
way to rapturous pleasure alone as he began to worm around inside her ass,
widening the passage and pressing against the thin muscular wall that separated
her back passage from her seething cunt. Ray found that he could feel his own
tongue sliding up into her and the revelation was mind-shattering. The debauched
couple thrilled to his obscene exploration of her defenseless ass while at the
same time continuing his assault on her hot, wet pussy. Her body now began the
slow, agonizing build-up to orgasm. She twisted and moaned, her lovely young
face almost animalistic in its contorted, insane desire for release. Mewling and
groaning deep with her heaving chest, she squatted lower and lower over her
husband's face, ramming her lewdly skewered ass down on his rigid middle finger
and trying to seize and hold his tongue inside the velvet, clasping depths of
her lust-enraged vagina. Now! She was almost gone, God, this was it!
"Ohh, ohh, ohhhhh! My God, don't stop, don't stop, I'm going to cum! I'm
cummmmmiiinnnggg!" And then she began to jerk convulsively, never having
cum before in such a position or even dreaming that it would be possible. It was
not only possible, it was fabulous, wild, perfect! The spasms of orgasm tore
through her tingling body and seemed to go on and on, and on, until at last she
was completely, thoroughly sated and could slip her still-clasping vagina away
from his deeply buried tongue and extricate her anus from the finger that still
impaled her.
As she pulled her cunt clear of his head, Ray shook his head in disbelief,
"You were really turned on that time, honey," he said. "Man, your
ass was really moving!"
She could only smile at him, unable to speak for another few seconds until her
body had adjusted itself to coming back to reality. She snuggled into the curve
of his arm and they watched as the third (and fourth, if you counted Drake)
member of the party struggled toward orgasm. It would not be long now, Jeannette
sensed, and she let her hand wander over Ray's hairy, flat chest, tangling in
his curly hair as she began to breathe faster and almost started to feel what
Laura was feeling. Although a widow now, you certainly could not say that Laura
led a lonely or dull life. In fact, her life had taken on new dimensions with
the passing of her lecherous husband. They'd owned Drake for three years, but
Laura had confided to them that the idea of putting him to use for her own
pleasure had never occurred to her until that day in the Delray's apartment when
she had seen him up on the bed with Jeannette.
Now, the coordination of dog and woman was really something to see, Jeannette
thought dreamily, still blissfully exhausted from her own climax. Drake was
bucking into her wildly undulating asscheeks and had increased his pace until it
seemed that no one, human or animal, could keep up such an assault for very
long. His dark-furred balls were clearly outlined under his arching hindquarters
as they swung against the white crevice below Laura's open cunt that was
absorbing the full length of his animal cock.
Then, suddenly, Drake whined and his flanks began to jerk. His torrent of animal
sperm poured into his mistress's hungrily milking cunt and swirled high in her
naked belly, touching off her own climax.
She moaned and flung her head back, blonde hair tumbling down, nostrils flaring
and eyes rolling. The husband and wife saw her asscheeks convulse under the dog,
squeezing his penis as if to suck him dry of his lewd, sticky sperm and imprison
his cock that was already deflating and slipping from Laura's streaming cunt as
she still rolled in wanton ecstasy and groaned out her release.
"Drake, you fucking son-of-a-bitch!" she gasped out in a tone that was
part awe for the dog's powers, part affection for her remarkable pet, part pure
expression of pleasure. The three friends lay spent in the huge new bed while
Drake arranged himself at their feet, like a comfortable cushion against which
they could warm their feet if they desired.
"Well, I guess it's going to be a late supper," Ray observed
contentedly, flinging an arm over the asscheeks of each woman. "I hope you
bought an extra steak for Drake, Jeannette? He certainly deserves one, after
that performance."
They laughed and in fact each thought, without knowing the other's thoughts, how
happy she was, and that she would not exchange her small-town life in Magnolia,
Arkansas - no, not for the biggest, most bustling city. Magnolia was not really
so old-fashioned, after all. Not when you got to know it!
