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A big dick salesman story - sex story


A big dick salesman story



The lovely young blonde crossed one long slender leg gracefully over the other, and smiled dazzlingly at Doug.

"Thank you so much for picking me up!" she breathed. "I've had absolutely no luck at all this morning -- that is, until you stopped for me, Mr...?"

"Fletcher, Doug Fletcher," Doug supplied, darting another look at the appealing young hitchhiker. He had been so surprised to see her, waiting at the entrance to the expressway, that he had impulsively stopped for her. Now he was glad he had -- at least the journey to work wouldn't be as boring as it usually was.

"I'm Selma Blake," the blonde went on, as she pulled out a packet of cigarettes. Doug refused her offer of one, and she lit her own, pulling deeply on it. He couldn't resist stealing another glance at her -- he was certainly attractive, and the short skirt she was wearing revealed the smooth sweep of her curvaceous thighs. Her long blonde hair swung back freely over her shoulders and she had a youthful carefree look which suddenly made him feel old and careworn.

"Do you always hitchhike to work... If that's where you're going..." Doug inquired, fighting his desire to forget all about the heavy rush-hour traffic and concentrate solely on his beautiful passenger.

"Oh, sometimes," Selma replied enigmatically, and smiled at him again, her full ripe lips curving upward tantalizingly.

Doug was aware of a tightening in his loins, of the stirring of his awakening cock, and hoped that its stiffening was not noticeable through his trousers. Steady on, he warned himself silently, don't forget you're a married man!

"You look angry all of a sudden!" Selma said, and Doug realized that he was frowning, the corners of his mouth drooping, his lips white and tight.

"I'm not... I'm just thinking," he said lamely, angry that she had noticed his reaction to his internal thoughts. Any man would scowl if he had the problems I've got! he told himself, unable to turn his thoughts away from Betty and their fight this morning. Just like me to have to worry about that nagging bitch when I've got a cute dish like Selma beside me.

He couldn't help thinking that their quarrels got more and more frequent, while their love life, such as it was, got less and less frequent. They had tried to figure out what was wrong between them, by calm conversation, but it always ended the same way, with one or the other of them hurtling accusations at the other. But he knew what the problem was... the plain and simple fact was that he wasn't getting a good lay at home and that was bound to get to any normal guy after a while! But Betty, every time they even got near to discussing the crux of the matter, seemed to get hysterical, yelling "it's all your fault," and refusing to discuss it further.

Well, he'd had enough of that, a man could only put up with so much before he cracked, and he was dangerously close to the breaking point now -- this morning's quarrel was almost the last straw! If that frigid wife of his had any idea of how she was affecting him, she'd change her tune, and quick, before it was too late...

"Hey, calm down," Selma said suddenly, leaning a reassuring hand on his arm, and Doug was amazed at the shudder of pleasure which rippled through him from the electric contact. "You're all wound up," she went on sympathetically. "Something must really be getting to you!"

Yes, something is, Doug smiled grimly to himself, acutely aware of her gently pressuring hand on his arm.

"Where will I drop you off?" he asked brusquely, avoiding her eyes.

"Central Avenue will be fine," Selma responded, gathering up her bag.

"Look... how... would you like to meet... say for a drink, after work?" Doug heard himself saying almost involuntarily. He was aware of the painful thudding of his heart as he waited for her reply. She'd probably refuse, after all, he had no business asking her in the first place.

"Sure, I'd like that," she said at last, and Doug realized that he had been holding his breath.

"Great, that's great," Doug exclaimed, and said that he'd pick her up outside her office at five.

He sat watching, his eyes glued to the provocative sight of her shapely hips until she was lost to sight in the hurrying crowd.

Hell, it's only a date for a drink, no harm in that, he told himself as he steered the car off in the direction of the city center. And it sure will be better than going home to Betty and facing another of her scenes.



Betty Fletcher grimaced as she swallowed the hot coffee. She couldn't adjust to the slightly bitter taste of the brandy, but knew that the overall effect of the mixture compensated for the unusual taste. Already she felt a warm tingling deep in the pit of her stomach as the hot liquid burned its way down and she could almost feel the tension easing out of her muscles. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the back of the breakfast nook, and tried to calm her troubled thoughts. She hadn't meant to lose her temper with Doug this morning; she really hadn't. But she just couldn't help it. She felt so irritated and tired, so depressed as soon as she woke up. Of course it was his fault; he knew that when she said she didn't feel like making love, she meant it. But he always persisted, which really got her upset, and made her nervy and on edge all night, usually carrying through into the morning.

If only he'd understand her, or even try to.

But no! All he ever thought about was himself, and sex! He made her feel like an automaton with the constant demands -- no wonder she lost her temper with him so much.

She took another deep drink of her brandied coffee, and wondered wearily how she'd get through the day. The idea of calling Tricia, her girlfriend occurred to her, but even the thought of making the effort to get dressed up and go out depressed her. And Tricia was always so inquisitive about the personal side of her married life, giving out details freely about her own sexual encounters, and probing almost rudely about Doug and herself in bed. No, I can't face Tricia this morning, Betty sighed. She looked listlessly around her, mentally arranging in order of most importance the tasks she had to do. But she couldn't even get interested in that. She was usually very house-proud, capable and efficient in running her home, but now she could see telltale curls of dust, clutters of newspapers.

It isn't fair! It isn't fair! she thought desperately, I'm young and attractive still, life shouldn't be over for me after two years of marriage!

Two years! She got up and wandered glumly into the hall. Two years of bickering and frustration, getting worse all the time, with no prospects of improvement.

She noticed, with disinterest, that the mailman had come. She felt a momentary rush of interest as she saw a small package among the usual circulars and a bill. "Personal Products" the discreet stamp in the corner said, and Betty realized that the vibrator-massager she'd ordered two weeks previously had arrived.

She carried it into the kitchen, and poured herself another cup of coffee, adding a liberal splash of brandy, and then sat down again in the breakfast nook to open the package.

She had read the small advertisement in one of the journals Doug subscribed to, and had been impressed by its claims. "Relieves stiff areas of the body," and "pats, stimulates, while you glow all over," and finally, "feel relaxed and happy after the deep massage of our natural feel personal vibrator."

Relaxed and happy. How long was it since she felt that way? She could barely remember, and almost desperately had mailed off the coupon asking for a free trial. She had forgotten all about it in the past couple of weeks, as tension mounted between herself and Doug and things went from bad to worse. But now, here it was, and if it helped a little bit, it would be worth it.

Betty couldn't suppress a gasp as she pulled away the last layer of tissue and revealed the gleaming cylinder of the massager. She didn't know what she had expected, but certainly nothing like this. It was about six or seven inches long, contoured at one end to allow the hand to grasp it, and the other end was topped by a slightly flaring knob. Betty stared at it, her eyes swimming from the strain and also from the effects of the brandy. It was like... well, it looked almost exactly like a... a penis! She had no idea it would be like this. Almost gingerly, she unfolded the instructions leaflet, and read that it was "contoured to fit every curve of the body in a design proved to be effective..."

Tentatively, Betty carefully picked up the instrument, and was surprised by how snugly and almost reassuringly it fitted in her palm. Its surface was smooth and shiny, completely concealing the inner works. She flicked the on-switch and was amazed at the urgency of the vibrations; her entire hand shook gently and the instrument felt strangely alive and warm in her hand. Maybe it will work, maybe it will help me relax, just like the ad said.

Turning off the vibrator, she glanced again at the instructions. "Just apply your personal vibrator to any stiff, unyielding spot, i.e. your neck, shoulders, even your thighs, and immediately feel deep relief starting to pour through you from the special penetrating powers of this new design..." It sounded so simple, but maybe a simple solution was what she needed, to a far from simple problem.

Betty didn't know what to do. She sat there, staring at the massager, faintly horrified at its lewd shape. It was so suggestive... she couldn't help comparing it to Doug's penis, which certainly didn't relax or satisfy her. Far from it. She dreaded bedtime now, terrified that he would want to make love, which he usually did. Of course, it hadn't been like that in the beginning. On their honeymoon, she had been just as eager as he was to make love, and even though it hurt a little at first, and didn't feel particularly good, she was sure that time would adjust everything. And Doug was so gentle and solicitous with her, too, taking infinite care to ensure that she was ready for his entrance. Yes, everything had been fine, even though she hadn't derived full enjoyment from his lovemaking, and she had been sure that it was just a matter of time. But after the honeymoon, things just weren't the same. Doug just didn't seem to have the inclination or patience to prepare her adequately first, and couldn't understand why she didn't get as aroused as he did. She tried explaining that she needed more time, more stimulation, but he had brushed her explanations aside, even intimating that there was something wrong with her because she wasn't responding fully by now. And so, with the passing months, things had gotten worse, and she could barely bring herself to talk about it with him. He was so insensitive and unfeeling about what she needed, always blaming her without stopping to think that maybe his approach was wrong. No, the fault was always hers, and she was standing in the way of his sexual happiness.

Well, she was just about ready to try anything to make life bearable again, even if he wasn't. Wearily, she rose to her feet, and picking up the box containing the vibrator, made her way into the bedroom. She felt a little unsteady on her feet, and knew it was from the brandy she had doused into her coffee. She had got into the habit of doing that lately -- it seemed to make the morning more livable, but she knew that this morning at least, she'd have to lie down for a few minutes. She must have put more than usual in, she realized, and thankfully sank back on the large double bed.

The room seemed to spin before her eyes, and she suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable. She opened her robe, and lay spread-eagled on the soft coverlet, willing her body into relaxation, mentally trying to drive the demons of tension out of her knotted muscles. Her legs felt leaden and her head was throbbing, and she could barely keep her eyes open. She knew if she closed them, she'd fall asleep, and she didn't want that to happen. God only knew what time she'd wake up again. Relax, relax, she told herself plaintively, but it was no use. She remembered the vibrator "apply to... neck, shoulders... thighs..."

Well, neck and shoulders were out of the question; she just couldn't make the effort to reach them, but thighs...

She reached over and grasped the vibrator and without giving herself time to think, switched it on. For a moment, she held it there in her hand, feeling its throbbing pulsating through her arm, and then, with her free hand, drew the edges of her nightgown up towards her hips, revealing the slender creamy skin of her long supple legs. She experienced a moment's apprehension, wondering if she should go ahead and use it, but she decided that she had to try it. She just couldn't go on like this; she had to do something or go crazy.

The vibrating surface felt strange against the soft flesh of her slightly parted thighs, but after a few moments, she got accustomed to it, and was amazed at the almost exhilarating sensation. It actually felt good, chased away the leaden feeling in her legs. She could almost feel the knots in her taut muscles untying, felt tension unwind as the massager hummed over the tender milk-white skin. Involuntarily, she slid her quivering thighs further apart, allowing the humming instrument to slip between the velvety surfaces and she became aware of new sensations of glowing relaxation as it throbbed away the tightness of her stiff muscles.

"Mmmmmm..." she sighed blissfully, guiding the massager upwards, enjoying the surges of new-found pleasure swirling in the wake of the vibrator.

She gasped as the pulsating head came suddenly into direct contact with the sensitive flesh of her outer vagina, sending an unknown chill shooting through her. For a long moment, she held it there, hardly daring to breathe, not knowing what to do. Strange thrills surged through her as the throbbing top of the vibrator nudged at the softly squirming outer lips, eliciting a strange response deep in the pit of her loins. No, this is wrong... she thought vaguely in the back of her wildly racing brain, and yet, she couldn't pull her hand away. This is good, too, just like it felt good on my thighs, she admitted numbly. It's helping me relax, it's soothing, she told herself, I can't stop now...

Furtively, she edged the instrument closer to the burning flesh of her delicately writhing pussy and moaned aloud as it came into closer delirious contact with the moist folds of her slowly arousing cunt. There was no denying it... the lewd machine felt good against her burning vagina! She could feel the blood pulsing through the thinly haired outer lips, felt the fluted edges of her trembling inner lips nibbling eagerly at the pleasure-giving gadget, and her entire body felt surmounted with a previously unknown delight.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she gasped as she continued to pressure the phallic-shaped device against her hotly churning pussy.

Of their own volition, her cream-white thighs spread further apart, revealing the wet, tingling split of her madly throbbing vagina. Without stopping to think, Betty guided the hard penis-like instrument closer to the wildly dilating orifice of her helplessly aroused cunt, sighing as new sensations careened through her naked loins.

"Ooooohhhhh..." she sobbed aloud as the pulsating machine came into searing contact with the turgid knob of her rigidly erect clitoris, nestling between the reddish curls of her pubic hair. Shockwaves of pleasure cascaded over her gently heaving body, and her face was flushed with exertion, bathed in a thin film of moisture. It was incredible... she had never known anything like this before. She continued to rub the buzzing vibrator-head against the throbbing pink bud of her clitoris, grinding the rigid little organ mercilessly up against the hard plastic surface of the vibrator.

In the back of her mind, a voice admonished her, but she brushed it aside. This is wrong... you shouldn't do this... it's not right...

"Oh God, I can't help it!" she moaned through passion-clenched teeth. And she couldn't. She was driven by an unknown force to hold the pulsating massager against the desire-aroused flesh of her writhing pussy, driven to grasp whatever pleasure she could from her love-starved body. It can't be bad, she told herself. Something this good, this exhilarating just can't be bad...

Her hips were flailing and thrashing around, her nightgown bunched up around her waist as she ground her heat-enflamed cunt up against the wildly jerking gadget.

Suddenly, she couldn't stand it any longer, and with agonized strength, she jammed the thick head of the vibrator against the pulsating petal-shaped opening to her madly churning body. She grit her teeth as she steeled herself against the unnatural contact, and then heedlessly pressed forward again, forcing the rounded knob against her wetly writhing hole, insinuating it past the futilely resisting outer edges, sliding it into the heated sheath of her hotly burning cunt.

She lay there gasping as she held the thick machine in place, and then, without hesitating, she guided it deeper inside her, spreading her legs wider and arching her pelvis upward to afford greater access to the throbbing massager. Her entire loins felt alive and tingling and the instrument seemed to caress the moist tender inner tissues, which were already beginning to secrete excitedly, clasping the pseudo-phallus with greedy hunger. Of their own accord, her hips began to gyrate in time to the rhythmic pulsing of the vibrator, and as the heaving inner walls of her pussy began to lubricate with her moist feminine juices, she was able to rotate the device inside her clasping vagina, adding to the tremendous swirls of pleasure already building up deep inside her. She had never known anything like it; it was much, much better than any time with Doug. It was in fact almost as if her husband no longer existed; all that mattered to her was this incredible pleasure-giving instrument which was making love to her with an unbearable intensity. Her head began to whirl and her passion-drenched cuntal walls began an eager clutching at the half-buried machine, as if it was desperately trying to suck the gadget inside its heated depths.

Betty was bucking and thrashing against the bed, completely out of control now, aware that for the first time she was approaching a tremendous orgasm. And then, she couldn't hold back any longer...

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" she shrieked wildly as wave after wave of overwhelmingly hot pleasure washed over her. She was climaxing, and it was better than she ever imagined. Desperately, she continued to ram the white imitation penis up between her crazily kicking legs, her voice incoherent with hoarse mewls. Her deep pelvic thrusts shook the whole bed, but Betty was oblivious to everything but the unbelievable sensations cavorting through her body, culminating in the overpowering pleasure that was burning up between her legs.

At last, the tremors subsided, and the uncontrollable flexing in her belly grew less and less, until finally, she lay still, her breathing shallow, her face flushed and moist with perspiration. The room still seemed to be swirling around her as she placed the vibrator back on the bedside table.

Conflicting feelings tumbled about in her dazed brain. Her body felt satiated and glowing, a new, satisfying feeling, but doubts began to form in her brain. What would Doug say if he found out what she had done? That she had made herself climax in that lewd way?

A sudden, agonizing image of how she must have appeared flashed across her mind to taunt her -- legs obscenely spread, nightgown unashamedly wrinkled up around her waist, her hand eagerly thrusting the plastic vibrating instrument into her vagina...

"Oh no!" she sobbed suddenly, her face crimsoning with shame. How could I have done such a disgusting, perverted thing?

She stared anew at the gleaming device, still wet and glistening from her inner juices, and a feeling of revulsion rose up inside her. Unable to stand the sight of it any longer, she hurriedly threw it into the box and rushing over to the bureau, flung it into the bottom drawer, under a layer of clothes she seldom used. She caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror behind the door and gasped at her disheveled hair, her flushed, lustful face, the erect buds of her nipples through her nightie.

Oh God, what's happening to me? she sobbed as she dashed into the bathroom, unable to stand any longer the sight of her sensually satisfied body.

CHAPTER TWO

Doug knew he was driving recklessly, but still he didn't slow down. He was beginning to be sorry that he had ever met Selma, and the one drink they had had together was a disaster. He knew that most of the fault was his. Somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to unwind. Nothing but platitudes came into his head, and things weren't helped by the fact that Selma herself was relaxed and carefree. Instead of helping to loosen him up, it only made him more uptight. It was because he was guilty, he knew. He couldn't help wondering what Betty would think if she knew he had taken a gorgeous young blonde out for a drink after work. Worse still, what would she say if she knew that the lovely teenager was really interested in him? Because, the fact was, in spite of his being tongue-tied, Selma didn't bother to hide the fact that she found him attractive. He'd have to be a fool not to notice, and the knowledge filled him with mixed feelings.

Even though she was quiet and motionless now in the passenger seat beside him, Doug was acutely aware of her presence. The thought that a beautiful young girl like Selma was interested in him, or even found him attractive, gave him a secret thrill of pleasure, but he also found himself filled with foreboding. Just why, he couldn't say. He knew that he found her attractive -- in fact, she was one of the loveliest girls he'd ever seen -- and in the end, he had to admit to himself that he was afraid. Afraid of what might happen, afraid of his own feelings and desires, and afraid of what Betty would think if she ever found out.

Not that there's any likelihood of anything happening, he thought bitterly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the striking profile of the young blonde teenager. She can't wait to get home; otherwise she'd have accepted another drink...

Doug was completely sunk in his depressed thoughts, and he didn't notice the sudden choking sounds that were coming from the engine. The first thing he realized was that the car was slowly grinding to a halt.

"What the hell..." he swore as it came to a complete standstill.

"Maybe you're out of gas?" Selma suggested helpfully.

But Doug knew he wasn't and a quick glance at the gas gauge confirmed that it was half full. Desperately, he tried the starter again, but the sputtering sound was ominous.

"What a place to break down!" he muttered as he looked out on the dark, lonely road. "We must be miles away from anywhere!"

"I think... I think the nearest gas station is about two miles away," Selma said in a small voice. "I'm sorry..."

"It's not your fault," Doug assured her. "If it didn't happen here, it'd happen somewhere else!"

"If you hadn't decided to drive me home..." Selma said again, her voice catching.

"Don't worry about that, Selma. Is there a phone near here?"

Selma shook her head. "No, the nearest one is at the gas station!"

"Well, it looks as if I'll have to walk there and get a guy to come back with me!" Doug said, feeling irritated.

This is what happens when a guy tries to date a girl on the sly, he told himself angrily. Out loud, he called to Selma. "You should be all right here. Just get in the back seat and lock the doors. I won't be long!"

Before he could hear her reply, he got out of the car and then decided to have a quick look under the hood. Luckily, he had a flashlight with him, and he peered into the mysterious darkness of the engine. Almost a novice at mechanics, he couldn't make anything of the motor, and slammed down the top again.

You've got a nice long walk for your trouble now, old buddy, he told himself and turned in the direction Selma had told him. But he was suddenly arrested by a heartfelt cry.

"Doug! Doug! Don't leave me!"

What the hell's the matter now? he thought angrily as he turned back towards the car.

"Selma! What's wrong?" he asked, opening the back door and looking in.

"Don't leave me here alone! I'm afraid!" she whispered, and her voice sounded as if she had been crying.

"But nothing will happen to you and I won't be long!" he assured her.

"Let me come with you!" she begged, her voice soft and pleading.

"But if you come, you'll only slow us down. I intend to run most of the way!"

"B-But I can't stay here! I'm... I'm scared to death!" her cry ended on a sob and Doug eased himself into the back seat beside her. He just couldn't go off and leave her alone, crying and frightened.

"Now Selma, don't cry. There's nothing to be frightened of. I'll be back soon and then I'll take you home," he soothed, placing his arm reassuringly around her shoulder. Within moments, she was clinging to him and he could feel her slender frame shaking as she pleaded with him.

"We can stay here in the car until someone comes! There's bound to be people passing by, on their way back from the shopping center at Forest Circle!"

"This road looks as deserted as hell to me! We haven't seen an automobile on it yet!" Doug said severely, wondering how he was going to extricate himself from the mess he was in. It was obvious he couldn't leave Selma by herself in the car, but on the other hand, if she went with him, it might be hours before they got on the road again. Her body felt so small and vulnerable in the crook of his arm and he knew that she was really terrified at the prospect of being left alone. Maybe the best thing would be to bring her along, regardless of how long it would take.

After all, he couldn't sit here all night trying to persuade her.

"Okay, Selma," he began, but he was suddenly cut off as she moved still closer to him and in a moment, her lips were grazing along his jawline, trailing hot, moist kisses in an excruciating path to the fullness of his lips. She was kissing him!

For a long moment, he was immobilized with surprise, but then as the ripe warmth of her lips pressed hungrily against his, he found himself responding eagerly, grinding his mouth down against hers, his arms tightening around her in a powerful embrace.

A surge of pleasure thrilled through him as he felt the soft pliancy of her body, and then her tongue darted into his mouth. It slipped past his teeth and began to fence and twist around his own still dormant organ, whipping up a froth of saliva as it swirled around in his mouth. His head felt light and dizzy and his lips felt as if they were glued to Selma's softly yielding mouth. Instinctively, he lowered his hand and circled tightly the palpitating mound of her breast beneath her light blouse. He could feel the hardening arousal of her nipple as it leaped gladly under the caressing pressure of his hand, and, gaining in courage, he lowered his searching fingers still lower. He drew in his breath sharply when they came into contact with the gently quivering flesh of her thigh, soft and tender under the shiny encasement of her stockings.

"Oh Doug..." she whispered softly, her voice warm and exciting.

But her words brought him to his senses. He wanted to go on like this, kissing and stroking her, but he couldn't. He might go too far...

"Look, Selma, we'd better..." he began lamely.

"We'd better what?" she teased, and he could only just make out her face in the dim light of the back seat. They were like two people marooned on a strange island, insulated from the rest of the world in the back seat. The knowledge of their solitude frightened him, and at the same time excited him. Doug could hear her breathing, shallow and rapid, and the almost tentative touch of her fingertips on his thigh.

"Selma, we can't... the car..." he choked, not knowing what to say. But then, her long fingers crawled excitingly upward and suddenly came into searing contact with the throbbing flesh of his pounding cock.

"Oh God, Selma..." he rasped, hardly able to bear it as his rapidly palpitating cock began to grow with lustful intensity, swelling under the gently caressing strokes of her hand. Already it was straining against the material of his pants, and his hands had tightened like vises around the girl's trembling shoulders. He thought he'd go mad from the excruciating pressure when he heard the unmistakable whir of the zipper of his fly and then, his liberated penis leaped joyfully upward, a hard, pulsating rod of flesh. Almost immediately, Selma's fingers tightened around it, exerting exquisite pressure on the tingling surface. She ran her sensitive fingertips up and down the pulsing length of it, making Doug grit his teeth with overwhelming passion.

"Mmmmm... it feels nice and hard already..." Selma crooned, still stroking and caressing the lust-maddened shaft unbearably.

"Selma... what do you think you're doing?" he gasped suddenly, desperately trying to force himself back to reality.

"What am I doing?" the lovely blonde murmured. "Why, I'm stroking and fondling your lovely big prick, to make it even bigger and harder..."

The lewd words sent a fiery arrow of arousal shafting through him and with a moan, he crushed his lips down on her unsuspecting mouth, bruising against her lips with unsated hunger. This time, his tongue nudged hungrily against her teeth, forced its way up into the warm moistness of her mouth. His hands fumbled at the buttons of her blouse, almost ripping them away in his haste. Eagerly, they sought the warm quivering flesh of her palpitating breasts, dipping inside her brassiere and brushing against the burning buds of her turgid nipples. Selma mewled as he kneaded the sensitive flesh, her entire body squirming and tingling from his touch. Relentlessly, his hands chased downward and began to unzip her skirt, and Selma raised her thighs to allow him to slide it down over her shapely hips. He could see the whiteness of her panties gleaming in the half-light and then, with a savage, incoherent moan, he began to tug at the flimsy material. His eyes strained as he caught a glimpse of the golden triangle at the top of her voluptuously curved thighs, and then, more hurriedly, he began to ease the dainty panties down over her long, slender legs, pulling away her stockings as he did so. At last she was naked beside him in the back seat, and Doug was overwhelmingly aware of the exciting closeness of her, of the mesmerizing lure of her warm, yielding body.

Just then, a car loomed up before them, its headlights almost blinding them both.

"Oh God, who is it?" Selma gasped, but Doug hardly heard her. In the strong light, he could see the full splendor of her completely naked body, and his eyes were bulging in his head as he stared at the alabaster whiteness of her upswept breasts, surmounted by the roseate tips of her burgeoning nipples. Swiftly, his excited gaze dropped to the smooth sweep of her hips and fastened on the glossy flaxen triangle of pubic curls between her cream-like thighs. But, moments later, the car had swept by them and their own automobile was plunged into darkness.

He realized that Selma was shivering beside him.

"I got a fright," she whispered, "for a moment, I thought..."

Doug gathered her in his arms and pulled her to him. He had hardly noticed the other auto, in his passionate arousal, had not even thought of stopping it and asking for a ride to the gas station. All he could think of was Selma. Once more he began to paint a burning path of passionate kisses along the curve of her swan-like neck, down to the full ripeness of her firmly rounded breasts. He enclosed each dark, throbbing nipple in his mouth, titillating the little buds with his tongue, nibbling at the excited puckering of her dark-red areolas. His knee edged between the silkiness of her slightly parted legs, forcing them even further apart, and Doug thought he could just barely see an enticing gleam of her moist pink cuntal-slit glimmering beneath the curling wisps of pussy tendrils.

His burgeoning penis was hard and intensely alive, every nerve ending taut and excited and he moaned aloud with new pleasure when he felt her fingers once more close around it.

"Oh Christ, Selma," he suddenly blurted, "I want to fuck you... I want to fuck you good and hard..." Her fingers tightened around the rigid shaft of his tormented cock and then she began to draw it towards the tantalizing fulcrum of her body. He could feel the velvety wetness of her softly quivering outer lips as the hard rubbery head of his jerking shaft nudged against them, and he had to force himself to hold back.

"Ooooohhhh yes... yesss... fuck me now, lover..." Selma moaned suddenly, her voice harsh with desire. Doug couldn't stand it a moment longer. He had had all he could take and the pent-up force of his passion rushed out with a single overpowering drive, as he rammed brutally forward. With a flesh-splitting thrust, he parted the futilely resisting outer lips and crammed the hard pounding length of his lust-bloated rod halfway up into the tight, unprepared depths of her cuntal sheath.

"AAAARRRRGGGGGHHH... OH GOD YOU'RE KILLING ME!" Selma wailed piteously, desperately thrashing her hips in a frantic effort to elude the cruel impalement.

But Doug, goaded on by almost maniac lust, ignored her cry. Heedlessly, he continued to surge forward, forcing his giant shaft to the hilt in her defenseless little belly. He held it there almost interminably, and then, with excruciating slowness, began to flex it in the pulsing darkness of her tight, dry vaginal channel.

"OOOOOOHHHHH... uuugggghhhnnn..." Selma moaned as she felt the steel-hard pole nudging against the sensitive tip of her cervix. She had never felt so full in her life. She felt as if the giant shaft were cleaving her in two, swelling with every passing second and she was almost afraid that it would explode inside her sorely palpitating depths. She felt vaguely uncomfortable from her awkward, half-lying position on the back seat of Doug's car, her legs parted lewdly, her naked back pressed against the cool leather upholstery.

Doug finally began to withdraw, pulling out his long throbbing cock in one swift stroke and then surging forward again.

"Aaaarrrrhh... hhhmmmmhhh..." Selma gasped as he plunged forcefully up between her widespread legs again, sinking his lust-inflated cock once more to the very base in her defenselessly naked belly. This time, the tender resilient inner membrane began to secrete excitedly, lubricating the long, lunging penis, allowing it to slip easily in and out of her openly spread cunt.

"Mmmmmm..." she moaned again suddenly, as tiny pinpricks of pleasure began to form deep somewhere in her loins, and a long shiver of ecstatic joy chilled her backbone. Her voluptuously silken thighs spread even farther apart of their own violation, her toes curling around Doug's lower back. Her arms reached up and she clasped him eagerly around the neck, spiraling her pelvis upwards to receive his rhythmic downthrusts.

Doug was in a world of his own. He had never experienced anything like this in his life before, and the knowledge that he was fucking a near-stranger in the back seat of his car, on a lonely country road, gave him an illicit feeling of pleasure that was excitingly mingled with power. He was exhilarated by the thought of what he was doing, and the wanton act liberated him in a way that he had almost forgotten. Selma was so yielding, so provocative, and just as aroused as he was! He had almost forgotten that a woman could be like that. He had almost forgotten the pleasure of fucking a real woman, a fully responsive female who returned thrust for thrust. Selma made him feel like a real man, completely sure of his masculinity -- a feeling he had never had with Betty!

Betty. For a moment, he expected his conscience to overwhelm him with recriminations. He half-anticipated that the reminder of his wife would somehow make him feel different -- would engender feelings of guilt and remorse -- but it didn't! He felt nothing but the almost overpowering pleasure that he was getting from fucking this little blonde pick-up. The eager acceptance of her helplessly aroused little pussy instilled him with sensual vigor and made the wisps of passion which were curling around inside him burst into furious clouds of red-hot pleasure. He wished he could see Selma's face clearly, but from what he could see, he knew that her head was thrown back, her mouth half-open, spewing out incoherent words that were the expression of her complete arousal. He could feel the hardness of her turgid little nipples against his chest, could feel the increasing urgency of the spasms which were convulsing her body.

"Oh God yesss... that's it... fuck me harder... harder..." she pleaded, her voice indistinct and hoarse with lust. Her wet, naked body was writhing uncontrollably on the seat, and the clinging walls of her inner sheath were milking convulsively on his plunging cock, tightening like a vise-grip around the sensitive flesh as he plummeted deep into her warmly welcoming depths. Their two bodies were fused together as one, joined where his long rangy cock buried itself in the widely stretched passage of her openly throbbing vagina. They flailed and thrashed against each other, the car being filled with the lewd, wet, slapping sounds of their love-making. Doug felt as if he was being driven on by some inner, unknown force that was making him strive almost inhumanly for completion with the tortured, lust-wracked girl beneath him. He thought he'd go mad if he didn't climax soon. His whole body felt on fire, every nerve-ending taut and frazzled by the effort to reach the pinnacle of pleasure.

And then, a few moments later...

"Oh! Oh! Oh! My God, I'm there! I'm... I'm... aaaahhh... I'M CUMMING!"

Selma's choked cry rang out just as her body stiffened almost unbearably, and then she was crashing down on the seat, pounding her passion-demented cunt up against Doug's furiously driving cock.

She was mewling and groaning uncontrollably, her entire body caught up in the throes of an incredible orgasm. Doug could feel the passionate vibrations resounding throughout the length of her feverishly flailing body, and her frantic spasms triggered his own release.

All at once, the tremendous pressure which had been building up in his balls seemed to explode. His head began to spin and his body seemed to pass out of his control, as a series of convulsive shudders gripped it and made him fuck brutally between the moaning girl's wantonly splayed legs.

"AAAAAHHHHH... I'm cumming too!" he moaned savagely, as his tortured scrotum at last released the first hot spurt of his seething male sperm. It rushed blindly from the dark, hot cavern of his balls and poured out of the pulsating tube of his wildly stabbing cock, to gush wetly into the hungrily receptive depths of Selma's eagerly clasping cunt. It continued to flow in a hot, boiling jet of white fluid, seeping into the steaming creases and crevices of Selma's voraciously clutching vagina.

When, at last, the cumming was over, and he could sense, rather than see, that Selma was satiated, he collapsed over her moistly quivering form, covering her with his own trembling body. He was filled with an exultant sense of well-being, and his mind was wiped clean of all peripheral problems. He didn't care about the fact that the car wouldn't start, that he had just been unfaithful to his wife by fucking a young teenager. He'd worry about those things later. Right now, he didn't care about anything but the fact that he was satiated and fulfilled beyond his wildest dreams. And at the moment, nothing mattered but that...



Betty was trying to decide whether or not to call the police, when she heard the car in the driveway. Oh thank God was her initial reaction. It was almost three a.m. and she hadn't heard a word from Doug all day. At first, she thought that he was just working overtime, or maybe stopped off somewhere for a drink. But as the hours ticked by and midnight came and went, she really began to get worried. Maybe he met with an accident was the recurring thought in her head and more than once, she had her hand on the receiver to dial the police. But now, thank goodness, he was home, and presumably all right. Her feeling of relief passed quickly and she was left with a vague feeling of annoyance. Why in hell hadn't he called her?

"Oh, you're still up," Doug commented as he let himself in the back door.

Betty felt the blood rising to her head and bit back a sharp retort. Maybe he has a good reason, and he'll tell me in a moment. "Would you like anything, some coffee, or maybe a sandwich?" she asked, trying to keep her voice careful and even.

"No, just get me a drink, will you?" Doug replied without looking at her.

Something in his manner and the way he had snapped out his answer irritated Betty, and she couldn't help hissing back: "What kept you till this hour? I've nearly gone out of my mind with worry!"

"Just get me that drink, okay?" Doug said coldly, peeling off his jacket. Betty, seething with burning anger, mixed him a Scotch and soda and silently handed it to him. She didn't know what to say next. She didn't want to anger him, but on the other hand, she felt she was entitled to some explanation. She watched as Doug took a deep swallow of the drink, and wondered what could have delayed him.

"The car broke down," he said finally, and something snapped inside Betty. His brief, unclear explanation stung her to the quick, and the unfeeling way he was treating her concern and worry made her quiver with rising fury.

"Well, why the hell didn't you call me and let me know? I nearly called the police, I was so worried about you! You didn't have the good manners to call me, and now you're acting as if I'm some kind of nut just for asking!" The words tumbled out in a near-incoherent blaze of anger, and Betty found that she was trembling.

"Look, honey, I'm dead tired. Let's leave it till the morning, all right?"

"NO! IT'S NOT ALL RIGHT!" Betty sobbed, giving full vent to her rage. "You come back here, cool as a cucumber, and expect me to believe that bull about the car breaking down! You must think I'm a real dumb-bell!"

"Listen, Betty, I don't feel like listening to your hysterics right now. The car broke down and I was so worried about it, I forgot to phone you until I was ready to leave the gas station, so I decided not to bother and get right on home!" Doug lied smoothly, hoping that his wife wouldn't notice the slight flush that was rising to his face. He hadn't realized it was so late, or he would have phoned, if only to avert Betty's histrionics. But he really did forget to phone, what with Selma wanting to fuck again, and then by the time they got to a gas station and got the car fixed, and then dropped her off at home...

"So I'm hysterical, am I?" Betty shrilled. "If you'd been stuck here all these hours, worried to death about where I was, you'd be hysterical, too!"

"Hysterical, maybe, but I wouldn't Goddamn nag you!" Doug retorted, unable to contain himself.

"And why the hell shouldn't I nag, when you come home at this hour with some flimsy excuse! For all I know, you were out with some other woman!"

Doug blanched, and wondered if she could hear the furious thudding of his heart. Had she guessed? Did she find out in some way that he'd spent those hours with Selma? His guilty conscience churned in speculation and he was unable to form a suitable reply. Betty noticed his uneasiness and she pressed her advantage.

"Yes, that's it. You were probably out with some cheap slut, and now you come back here to me, at this hour of the morning, without even an apology!"

"Why the hell should I apologize?" Doug railed, suddenly finding his voice again. "The car did break down," he insisted, "and if you like, you can check the gas station in the morning!" As soon as he said it, he was sorry. Suppose she did check the gas station, and the attendant told her that he had been with a voluptuous blonde? Oh Christ, he shouldn't have said that.

"Let's go to bed, honey," he said in a conciliatory tone, "we're both tired and tomorrow..."

"I don't want to hear anything more about tomorrow! I want to get to the bottom of this tonight!" Betty asserted violently. She knew she was acting shrewishly, but she couldn't help herself. The floodgates of her emotions had burst open and had washed away any restraint she might have put on her tongue. The day had been such a miserable one, and throughout the length of it, she had to live with her guilt over using that horrible vibrator. Several times she had decided she'd make a clean breast of it and tell Doug when he came home, but that was out of the question now. She knew she was just taking her guilty feelings out on her husband, and another time she'd have accepted his excuse with loving concern. But tonight, she just couldn't let the matter rest.

"Betty," Doug began in a threatening voice, "I'm sick and tired of your harangue. Now just shut up and leave me alone!"

Betty's feelings were lacerated by her husband's cold tone. All the feelings she had nurtured about being misused and unappreciated leaped to the fore and pushed aside caution.

"How dare you speak to me like that?" she raged. "I'm sick and tired of you, with your disgusting ways, always thinking about sex, treating me as if I was a robot! You act as if you were God Almighty, but I know what you're really like! You're a... a... bad-mannered, ill-tempered... savage!" Her eyes were blazing and she was staring at her husband with utter loathing. A recollection of how he had wanted to make love to her last night flashed before her eyes, and of the other row they'd had this morning... Oh God, she just couldn't take any more!

Doug couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't quite follow her line of thought, and as he hadn't mentioned making love, her outburst took him by surprise. But it also infuriated him. Selma doesn't think I'm a bad-mannered, ill-tempered savage! he thought with sudden vehemence, and involuntarily took a step towards his wife.

"Stay away from me!" she shrieked wildly, jerking back against the kitchen table.

That was the last straw for Doug. The realization that his wife was afraid of him, had actually thought that he was going to harm her in some way goaded him in a way that her words hadn't. So she thought he was some kind of a monster, did she? Well, he had never given her any reason to think that before, but by Christ he would now!

"I told you before to shut up, you nagging bitch!" he spat, moving towards her and grabbing her shoulder with a rough movement.

"TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" she screamed, struggling desperately to break away.

"I'll teach you to pay attention to me," Doug snarled, and with a sudden swipe, slapped her hard across the face. Betty stared at him in dumbfounded horror, unable to believe that he had actually struck her.

"You... you bastard! You hit me!" she gasped in disbelief. "Now I know what you're really like... a man that would strike a woman!"

"You haven't a clue what I'm really like," her husband sneered, "but by God, you'll soon learn!"

"Get away from me!" she demanded hoarsely, her eyes widening in fright, dismayed at the reaction she had provoked.

"I've had just about all I can take from you," Doug spat, his hand tightening on her arm. "Now you'll do what I say, and like it!"

A hot retort choked in Betty's throat. She was really afraid now. She had never seen her husband so angry, and she knew that it was mostly her fault for aggravating him. Oh God, why didn't I keep my mouth shut...

"Get your clothes off!" Doug suddenly ordered.

"Wha...?" Betty gasped, unable to believe that she had heard him right.

"GET YOUR CLOTHES OFF!" Doug yelled again, moving menacingly closer.

"You must be crazy!" Betty breathed, trying to struggle free of her husband's clutching fingers. But his only reply was to reach up and pull wildly at her blouse, ripping away the buttons, baring the softly molded curves of he brassiere-encased breasts. Betty could only stare at her husband as he hooked his fingers under her brassiere and with one sharp tug, he pulled it away from her body, leaving her full voluptuous breasts swinging free, the nipples stiffening in the cool air.

"Doug, please..." she began in a softer voice, making a futile attempt to cover her naked breasts.

"Now take off those slacks!" he ordered, his eyes fastened on the cream-like flesh of her quivering breasts.

Betty didn't know what to do. If she obeyed him, and took off her slacks, she knew he'd only get excited and aroused at the sight of her naked body. And she didn't want that! She'd seen the look of lust leap into his eyes when he'd torn away her brassiere. But if she refused to obey him... in the mood he was in, he might kill her!

Doug's fingers tightened even more painfully on her bare forearm, and fear made Betty fumble with the zipper of her slacks. Slowly, she began to peel them down over her fearfully trembling thighs, hoping that her husband would have a change of heart. But he didn't. Trembling, she stepped out of the garment, and stood there, clad only in a pair of diaphanous white panties.

"Well! Well! Well! You're not so fiery now," Doug leered, staring at his nearly-naked wife. "Now let's see you take off those panties!"

"But Doug..." Betty began in a mortified voice.

"No objections!" her husband snapped. "Just do as you're told!"

Humiliated, Betty inserted her thumbs in the narrow elastic waistband of the panties and began to ease them down over the gentle swelling of her hips. Finally she stood there, completely naked, her head lowered in embarrassment.

Doug continued to stare at his wife's lovely alabaster body. His eyes were riveted on the russet triangle gleaming between her thighs, and he couldn't draw them away from the enticing spot. When he had ordered her to strip, he had done so compulsively without really thinking. He had to find a way to assert his masculinity, which had been resurrected so magnificently by Selma, and which had been temporarily deflated by Betty's tirade.

Now he was goaded on by a feeling he couldn't name, but which he knew had to do in some way with his guilt about Selma. If he had had a fully legitimate excuse for being so late, he knew he would have called, or even if, by some chance, he had neglected to do so, he would have made some effort to placate Betty when he finally did get home. Instead, he had gotten just as angry as she had. But now, something else was taking possession of him. As he stared at his wife's shapely, naked body, he was aware of the first stirrings of desire. Even though their lovemaking was never usually a really satisfying experience, he still got excited by her voluptuously curved body, and tonight was no exception. She looked like some beaten Goddess, standing there, with her head bowed. Her long red hair had become undone and framed he face with tawny tendrils. Her full, ripe breasts were defiantly upswept, and her slender waist fell away to gracefully curved hips.

"Betty honey," he began softly, relaxing his cruel hold on her arm. He flinched as she shrank from him, but steeled himself to make another attempt. "I'm really sorry, baby. Let's..."

"Don't touch me!" Betty hissed, her voice venomous. Although a part of her wanted to accept his reconciliation, her pride would not let her. He had wounded her too deeply, and she had to have her revenge.

But Doug had had enough. Her loathing was so obvious that he couldn't ignore it, and he had to show her that he was the boss. With a brutal shove, he slammed her hard against the kitchen table, making her cry out with pain. Stumbling, she lost her balance and fell in a crumpled heap onto the floor.

In a moment, Doug was beside her, his hands tightening on her hips, forcing her into a humiliating position on her hands and knees.

"Oh God, why can't you leave me alone?" she sobbed piteously, too enfeebled to try and struggle.

"I will, don't worry," Doug chuckled lewdly, "when I've finished with you!"

His fingers were racing over the flaccid moons of her softly fleshed buttocks, leaving ugly red wefts in their wake. Cruelly, he strained apart the rounded ass-cheeks, revealing the dark trembling crevice of her ass. His eyes seemed to glaze as he stared at the illicit crack, and then, without hesitation, he reached down and ran his long pink tongue along the quivering split.

"Aaaahhh! Aaaahhh! Aaaaahhh!" Betty sobbed, desperately wriggling her buttocks in a frantic effort to escape. But it was futile, and a crimson blush flushed her face as Doug continued to slaver and lick at her secret place. Dear God, he must be out of his mind...

At last, the lewd licking ceased, and a feeling of relief swept over Betty. Maybe now he'll let me go...

But her relief was short-lived. Fear rose inside her as she felt the unbelievable nudging of his finger at her tight little anus, and a shiver of trepidation raced along her spine. What in God's name was he going to do? Almost in answer to her terrified thoughts, Doug began to shove harder at the tight little ring, watching it crinkle defensively under his touch, and then, suddenly, he rammed it forward, forcing it past the tightly-clenched sphincter, inserting his middle finger in the dry, resisting darkness of her anal depths.

"Aaaaaarrrrrhhhhh... stop! Stop! Please stop!" Betty begged, wriggling her soft, cream-like ass-cheeks frantically, as she tried to elude the forbidden intruder. But her struggles only seemed to assist her husband and he was able to bury his finger to the first knuckle in her tortured rectum.

Crudely, he began to rotate it inside her dark channel, making her squirm and moan with agony. But he was oblivious to her groans and continued to burrow his alien digit in her soft, rubbery depths. After what seemed an eternity, he finally pulled it out, and the pain began to recede from Betty's agonized back passage. She felt cramped and uncomfortable from the awkwardness of her position, and she thought of appealing again to her husband's mercy. But deep down inside, she knew it was no use. She had driven him over the brink by her callous nagging, and it was too late for him to draw back. Besides, her pride made it impossible for her to give in any more. He could do what he liked with her, but he would never break her spirit. He might conquer her body, but her mind would never submit.

But she couldn't resist gasping with new horror when she realized what was happening. At first she couldn't believe it, but it was obvious.

"Oh no! Please no!" she moaned when she felt the hard rubbery head of Doug's penis pushing crudely against the tiny defenseless opening of her rectum. She knew it was fully erect, because it felt granite-hard and unyielding, and fear clutched at her throat. She wanted to scream out, to make a desperate effort to get away from her husband, but she couldn't. She was immobilized by terror, all strength drained from her by the realization of what was happening. Oh God, how was she to bear it?

Doug stared down at the palpitating length of his fully inflated cock with satisfaction. It lay long and powerful against the trembling split of his wife's anal crease, the knobby head rubbing lewdly against the crinkled dark anus. He knew that Betty was afraid, and he reveled in her fear. It made him feel masterful, and made up in a small way for the degradation she made him feel with her taunts and accusations. But he wanted to subjugate her further, leave no doubt in her mind as to who was boss. And he was sure that when he'd finished with her, she'd know for sure...

Betty winced when she felt the giant burgeoning head probing blindly at her fearfully cringing anus. She felt numb all over, and her brain refused to register what was happening. She could feel the lascivious pressure getting more insistent, and felt the searing tightening of Doug's fingers of her softly-rounded buttocks, and then...

"AAAARRRRGGGGHHH... OH GOD PLEASE STOOOPPPPP..." Her voice rang out piteously and her whole body shook and vibrated as she made a last frantic effort to elude the lust-engorged penis which was stabbing salaciously at her defenseless sphincter. But it was useless. She couldn't move forward more than a couple of inches. She was a complete prisoner in her husband's hands, and she was powerless to do anything but submit to his wanton designs.

Doug continued to surge forward, straining with all his might, until finally...

"NNNOOOOO... OH GOD NOOOOO...!"

Stabs of shooting pain shot up Betty's spinal cord as Doug finally managed to insert the thickly pulsing head of his cock up inside the elastic-tightness of her futilely resisting rectum. For a moment, she thought she was split in two. She was completely stunned by the excruciating pain and her breath was coming in agonizing gasps.

"Stop it... stop it, please... you're killing me..." she rasped hoarsely, barely able to make her voice heard.

But Doug was cruelly oblivious to his wife's agony. After a moment or two of gathering his strength, he shoved forward again, forcing his huge, lust-distended cock into the virginally tight, unyielding sheath of her rectum. Relentlessly, he surged on, searing the sensitive inner membrane unbearably, until at long last, he was embedded to the hilt in her sorely abused anal depths. He held it there triumphantly, watching the desperate squirming of Betty's lewdly skewered buttocks.

"... uuugggghhhnnnhhh... Aaaahhhh..." Betty moaned incessantly, unable to do anything else. She never felt so used and debased in her entire life. The pain, excruciating as it was, was nothing compared to the agony of her mind. She could never hold up her head again after this terrible anal rape. She never imagined that people did such things to each other, least of all her own husband! And to think she'd felt guilty over using the vibrator! That seemed very minor now in comparison with what her husband was doing to her.

Doug began to withdraw, pulling out his long, rangy rod with a slow movement. The tight dry inner flesh clung agonizingly to the slowly exciting shaft, causing new pain to flood through Betty's lewdly impaled loins.

When just the heavy, blood-filled head was still tightly sunk inside the tiny muscular ring, Doug surged forward again, this time without stopping, and embedded his passion-inflated cock right down to the base in her firmly clenched back channel. Then he began a slow, laborious in and out rhythm, the tortured rectum finally yielding slightly and allowing him to plunge and withdraw with greater ease.

Betty's pain lessened slightly too, but her entire frame was still numb with shock and she didn't feel anything. Her tired brain refused to operate, too, and she could do nothing but hunch there in her crude position, waiting until her husband had finished with her. Her naked buttocks felt sore and bruised, but she was a slavish victim to her husband's greater strength and power. But she'd pay him back, that was for sure...

Doug fucked into his wife's widely stretched anus like a man possessed. The very licentiousness of the act gave him new thrills of lurid pleasure, and the knowledge that he was hurting and embarrassing his wife in a mind-shattering way added to his lust-incited passion. The sight of her crouched and trembling figure filled him with a brutal kind of power and he was determined to get the most pleasure he could from his unwilling victim.

"Move that tight little ass of yours around on my cock, baby," he leered suddenly, accompanying his obscene order with a hard slap of his open palm on the flaccid flesh of her buttock.

His vile words made Betty shudder with revulsion, but fear propelled her into giving some semblance of a response, even though the idea repulsed her. Awkwardly, she tried to rotate the trembling mounds of her backside, but new shivers of pain chilled through her and she had to cease her attempts. But luckily, Doug didn't seem to notice. He was completely carried away by the obscene act he was enforcing, and Betty suddenly realized that he was very near to climaxing.

His deep hard thrusts had become more convulsive, the tempo of his brutal ass-fucking increasing with each passing second. The thought that he would soon empty his seething hot semen into her abused anal passage filled Betty with loathing, but at the same time, she wanted the moment to come, so that she would be released from this degradation. Hoarse, semi-human groans filled the air, and Doug was like a wild beast behind her, bucking and battering against her bruised, strained backside. He was like a rutting animal, Betty thought, and she wondered if she would ever forgive him for this terrible outrage. She doubted it, in her present state of mind.

But just then, she forgot about everything in the horrendous enormity of what happened next. Doug stiffened behind her, and for a moment seemed completely suspended. And then, with the force of a giant tidal wave, he began to fuck into her with hard spasmodic thrusts. He was cumming!

"OH CHRIST! I'M THERE...!" he groaned hoarsely, his voice barely discernible. "AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH...!"

Betty could feel the first onrush of the scalding fluid as it jetted into her chafed anal depths, and it stung the sensitive inner flesh almost beyond belief.

"Fuck back, Goddamn you..." Doug hissed lewdly, as he sent spurt after spurt of hot, boiling sperm into her forever-stretched anal channel. It flowed unceasingly into the fearfully cringing interior of her helpless little belly to lie in a lascivious pool in her tortured depths.

At last, it was over. Betty could hardly believe it when she felt her husband's limply deflating penis begin to slip harmlessly from her flooded rectum, and Doug himself staggered away from her still crouching form.

Without another word, Doug ambled in the direction of the bedroom, and Betty heard the kitchen door slam with an ominous finality which seemed to echo through the darkened house.

CHAPTER THREE

Betty had thought that the morning would never come. All night long, it seemed to her, she had lain awake, her thoughts seething with disbelief and anger over what had happened. Doug slept on unconcernedly beside her, and the knowledge that he was apparently untroubled by what he had done, added fuel to the fire of her fury. When at last dawn had come, she had risen wearily, and this morning, the brandy was very welcome in her coffee. She had just finished her second cup when Doug had come into the kitchen and she had silently set about preparing breakfast for him. She didn't think she could face anything to eat herself.

"Betty, honey, about last night..." Doug began tentatively, hoping for some encouraging reassurance, but Betty didn't reply. "I'm really sorry... it'll never happen again, believe me!"

Doug's voice was earnest and humble, but Betty didn't care. Without a word, she handed him a plate of bacon and eggs, and poured him a cup of coffee.

"At least say something," Doug pleaded, ignoring his meal. "I've said I'm sorry -- what more do you want? I... I guess I just lost my temper, besides being dead tired."

"Your breakfast is getting cold," Betty said indifferently, moving out of the kitchen and going into the living room.

Gratefully, she sank down into the soft sofa. Her husband didn't say anything more and she was grateful for that. She wanted to think, to go over the horrible events of last night. It wouldn't be for the first time, of course, but she reasoned that the cold light of day might throw a new gleam on the unbelievable trauma of last night. She admitted to herself that she was partly to blame, but at least, she told herself, her motives were altruistic. She had been really worried about her husband and it was her relief more than anything that had made her harangue and nag at him when he came home.

He should have phoned her -- there was no denying that. But why didn't he, if his reason really was, as he insisted, that the car broke down? Betty just couldn't figure that one out. A looming suspicion kept nagging at the back of her mind... maybe he had spent the evening with another woman! No! No! Doug wouldn't do a thing like that! I know he wouldn't... or would he?

Betty just couldn't bring herself to believe that her husband was actually involved with another woman... but why then had he got so upset when she had questioned him? Was it because of a guilty conscience? But worst of all, what had made him do such a disgusting, perverted thing to her? A shiver coursed through her as she recalled the agonizing pain and humiliation of that degrading act. Her sorely tried rectal channel still twinged from his cruel rape, and she was aware of a general, overall discomfort and achiness. She still couldn't really believe that it had been her husband who had done such a dreadful thing to her. He was like a complete stranger, demented with depraved lust. And no

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