"Blackmailed Into Swapping" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanson Dana)

Chapter 2

As Mavis preceded Dell Emerson through the vined arbor to the back door, she was conscious of his eyes on her rump that was snugly molded by tennis shorts. She knew men and she knew that the young law student's eyes were exploring her body as he carried the large box of groceries.

She juggled the two bottles of gin and mix to her left arm as she unlocked the door. She liked to look sexy, knowing she had a figure men liked looking at. And Phil Moran, her husband, liked for her to dress enticingly. He was almost embarrassingly proud of her sensuous appearance.

And Mavis liked men's eyes on her. She held the door open, glad to be out of the glaring sun, and let Dell into the large kitchen. She paused, perfectly still, listening to Dell put the box on the breakfast nook table. She frowned. There was that one brief chapter in her life she wished she could erase. There was that tormented interlude after college when she couldn't find a job. A lot of men's eyes had seen her body-not just in tennis shorts and skinny bra! They had let their lust-filled eyes rove over her absolute nudity! And, oh, the things she had let them do to her body! Some had been really, keenly good! Others had just used her for their animal pleasure. She wasn't resolutely ashamed that she had been a prostitute for four months. It hadn't been so bad. And the money was good! But, she would never, never, ever tell Phil! That would just kill him and her marriage, probably!

She sensed that Dell's eyes were on her hips and thighs and slender back again. She lingered with her reverie for a minute longer. But a girl had to make ends meet-she had had that urgent student loan to pay off before they would let her have her diploma in economics.

It hadn't been too bad. In the four months, she had only taken on enough "clients" to meet her financial obligations. Hell! she pouted, turning and smiling at Dell, a lot of girls gave it away free to thirty men and boys-and she had earned almost twenty-five hundred dollars.

And some of the older guys-the tender repeaters-had been real fun; they had taught her that sex-play was greater sport than the Super Bowl-and no broken bones. She almost giggled. She had crushed a few sex bones. Except, the memory sometimes almost broke her heart. Well, she had her hero. Phil! And she would never sell her body again!

"A drink, Dell? That's right, you have to go back to the store. How about a lemonade? It's all ready, in the frig."

"Okay," the tall stock clerk said, slipping into the nook.

Mavis inhaled deeply, lifting her full breasts for his admiration, as she handed him the frosty glass. His eyes never missed a ripple of supple muscles in her midriff and the haughty lift of her breasts. "I'm going to have a martini," she murmured, turning away from his eyes that had riveted on her crotch where the tight shorts outlined the full labia-the smile and crease. As she stirred, she sighed silently. She could have him. And, with Phil gone so much, an eager tail wagging around inside her would be scrumptious! But, she loved Phil too much to cheat, she told herself. Or did she? A healthy girl needs sexing ever so often.

No matter how much she needed a piece of male twang and a spot of nookey, it would take a helluva lot to get her on her back with legs kicked high for some other man's pleasure-stick! She sensed he was hot-aroused-she could almost smell his musky male aroma! She could have him-if she wanted! But, wasn't he going with Becky Samon? The young woman who worked as a typist at the Salt Lake City law office where Dell helped work up briefs, did research and got some practical legal training? She wondered, even though they were engaged, whether Dell was faithful and loyal to her.

She would bet that he was! Right now, he was extremely hard-up! She could smell the warm, sweet aroma of his genitals-and her excitement was increasing. But, she was resolute! She wouldn't let him seduce her and she wouldn't seduce him and cheat on Phil!

The fleshy curtains that protected her womanhood felt glued together and she didn't want to risk getting up, lest Dell see the telltale traces of honey seeping from her love cove! "Hadn't you better get back to the store?"

"Probably," Dell smiled, finishing his lemonade and sliding out of the booth.

After he had gone, she pouted over the possibility he had smelled her, too! She didn't want him to think of her as a cowardly female in heat!

Afraid to skin out of her clothes and have a lusty sex romp while her husband was away. Mavis almost cried. She did need her cove explored.

She shivered with sexual misery. If Dell had just made the gesture, she just knew she couldn't have resisted; she would have flopped over, flung her feet into the air and spread her milky thighs wide. She wouldn't have resisted one iota as he presented his manhood to her. She would have let him take her-and she would have taken him! She fluttered and burned and itched all through her loins. She needed it!

She needed a man!

"Phil!" she cried. She had heard many men say it, now she yelled it herself…"I need fuckin'!"

She finished the pitcher of martinis and glanced fuzzily around the elaborate kitchen. The gin had hit her very hard, after a couple of hours of tennis with Connie Quentin and being out in the hot sun. And the alcohol did nothing to cool the sensual urge that was coursing through her veins.

Mavis almost wished Willie Quentin, Connie's husband, would call her in to clerk that evening at the local supermarket where she sometimes substituted for regular help. The prospect of spending another evening of solitude without Phil was depressing. Would he be home tonight? He had said he was going to Cheyenne, Wyoming, on some kind of big burglary. That was three days ago and he hadn't even called!

She let her fingers graze the hard tips of her breasts. He hadn't even given her a little the night before he left. After three years of marriage, was his love and passion for her ebbing? The thought frightened her. She knew she was just as desirable as when he had married her. And her passion hadn't cooled, in fact, it seemed even snore volatile and explosive. As a matter of fact, her preoccupation with sex lately worried her. Was she-could she-turn into a nymph? She had read case histories about women who couldn't get enough intercourse. She often thought some of the symptoms paralleled her own feelings of lust.

Hadn't she seriously considered-if only briefly-an affair with Dell Emerson? Oh, she had found it not too difficult to resist making the initial overture toward the bedroom. But the cozy prospects of being fondled and laid had their stimulating allure. She had the physical evidence it was so…Her crotch was sticky-hot with passion and her vulva and vagina seemed on fire!

Clumsily, Mavis eased out of the breakfast nook. Her tapering thighs were like jelly and she was surprised her long legs supported her. With both hands on the tabletop, she steadied herself. Each movement seemed to agitate the sensuous torment in her loins. She shook her head and smiled faintly. It was a good thing Dell had gone before she finished the martinis! She needed it so bad right then she would have flopped for the Quentins' gardener-black as he was!

Suddenly, a vivid picture of one of her "clients" flashed through her mind. He always liked her down on all-fours, dog-fashion. The memory was so sharp and keen she could almost feel his penis gliding in and out of her vagina, his fingers gripping her flanks at the hip bones and hauling her body back, smooth cheeks of her ass pounding against his hairy belly as he speared his long, thick penis deep into her passionjuiced uterus.

She closed her eyes and shuddered. Was she sex crazy? Unsteadily, Mavis wandered into the huge living room and pulled the drapes. With her mind and body in turmoil, she flopped on the divan, breathing heavily. Phil wouldn't call; she just knew he wouldn't. And she would be alone another night. Sure, she knew several people, but they were Phil's friends. They had been his friends long before they were married.

Unhappily, she thought about them-positive they weren't interested in inviting her over alone without Phil. Connie and Willie Quentin knew she was by herself. So did Miriam and Henry Carr. But it might be more difficult for the Carrs to entertain her. He was a police lieutenant and his hours were as irregular as Phil's. And she hardly knew Terry and Mickey Lewis. They were fairly new to the neighborhood. Mickey had just taken the position as basketball coach at the local high school.

So, who else was there? You could bet that Dell and Becky wouldn't want to sit with a married woman they knew only slightly-not when they could be at a drive-in movie necking and petting. She had the intuitive feeling they weren't making out, that Becky was saving her cherry for her husband on their wedding night.

Mavis could barely keep her fanny from bouncing; nerves kept sparking deep in her innards. God! how she needed relief! Resolutely, she turned to her right slightly and skidded the zipper on the side of her shorts and freed the button. Well, she wouldn't go hunting for a stud to service her. She drew her feet up and worked her shorts and moist panties down past her knees. Delicately, she combed her fingers through the rich pubic growth that was long and thick over her mound and fanned nearly to her navel.

"Ooooooh, goooood!" she sighed. Without even feeling, she knew the pleasure thorn had poked out of its fleshy sheath, tingly and hot. She had never made a practice of playing with her monkey, but it sure needed petting now! Mavis had never felt any regrets after masturbating, but she did it on rare occasions. She drew her feet up until the heels were against her buttocks; she fanned her knees and tense thighs wide. She wanted to live a clean, straight life, loving her husband and caring for her home. So, a little playing with her pussy wouldn't hurt anything-not nearly as much as taking on some man while Phil was away. He probably would understand her masturbating, but would never forgive her for adultery.

Mavis knew that the seat of pleasure lay just inside the fatty folds of flesh just below the pulpy mound across her pelvis. But she would prolong the enjoyment, now that she had committed herself to sexing herself. Slowly, delicately, she stroked her fingers up and down the inner planes of her thighs. "Ooooooh," she moaned as muscles jerked and nerves sparked. She used her thumbs to press the thick lips together over the clitoris and the aching opening to the vagina. She was so drenched with passion, she knew stroking the firm flesh of her crotch could make her cum. But she fought off the building thunder in her loins. She wanted lightning to strike at the same time-and that would come only when she parted the full lips and stroked a hand in the wet groove and crammed two or three fingers of the other hand into her greedy hole. The seething and boiling in her channel was reaching a tempestuous pitch.

After a slow rake of sharp nails along her thighs, she used the fingers of both hands to spread the labia wide. Almost brutally, she worked her bunched fingers into her vagina. Then she attacked the clit and upper part of the furrow with her other hand. Furiously, stroking up and down, raking the thorny clit harshly.

There was a pounding of drums in her head, and thunder and lightning were cascading together in long rolls in her insides. She was cumming!

Faster and faster her hands flew-up and down in the vulva, in and out of her cunny. She was having it! She was cummmmmmmmmmmmmmmiiiiiiiinnnnng!

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh, God!" she whimpered as the waves of passionate splendor washed through her like high tide. She was buffeted and battered by tremendous shock waves of masturbatory satisfaction.

As her heartbeat started returning to normal, after the lightning retreated into her uterus and the thunder grew still, she slowly opened her eyes, still clutching her snatch with both hands.

And stared into the smug amused face of Miriam Carr. Shame flashed through her-but there was no sign of ridicule in Miriam's hazel eyes.

Just faint, lively amusement. Mavis was starkly aware of her obscene posture, knees scissored up, thighs spanned wide, hands dug into her pussy-and Miriam peering at her. Tears blurred Mavis' eyes-and still she lay perfectly still, as if paralyzed.

"You poor darling," Miriam murmured, kneeling beside Mavis and placing one cool hand between Mavis' heaving, jutting breasts and another on Mavis' feverish hands clutched in her sex saddle.

"What a delightful, exciting performance!" Miriam cooed, slowly pushing one of Mavis' hands aside and fingering her own into the upper expanse of vulva that was slicked with female sex honey. Mavis' tense ass bucked uncontrollably as Miriam teased the moist furrow and deftly pinched the fading clit back to full erection.

Mavis wanted to sob and writhe away, but Miriam was doing things to her, again arousing her to a feverish pitch. The muscles in her flat belly spasmed and tightened as Miriam continued to masturbate her slowly, then faster and faster.

Mavis was panting in short gasps of passion, her free hand sliding up under her skimpy halter to clutch a breast melon. "Oh, God!" she whined and moaned as Miriam brought her out. She felt she was being turned inside out down there where her own hand was diving deeper and deeper into her boiling, roiling cunt. Her torso was bucking and plunging, naked ass humping up for full pleasure from her own inserted hand and Miriam's agile fingers. "I'm cumming!" she yelled triumphantly, no thought of shame, as her innards exploded into a violent orgasm that nearly left her unconscious.

She was only vaguely aware of Miriam leaving her as her sex-saturated body trembled and began returning to normal once again. She opened her eyes to see Miriam standing over her with a couple of drinks.

"You poor darling," Miriam repeated softly' helping Mavis sit up and cradling her in one arm. "Drink the gin and tonic, honey."

Mavis sipped gratefully, all but unmindful of her naked lower extremes.

Right then she didn't care if Miriam gazed at her hairy tummy and snatch. She didn't care that Miriam had seen her playing with herselfhad helped her masturbate. She had had relief that she had needed so urgently. She couldn't sort out her emotions; tell whether the two self-induced orgasms were comparable to those she got from a huge cock working in and out of her pussy, or not.

"Thank you, Miriam," Mavis murmured, sipping the strong drink.

"You aren't getting all you crave from Phil, are you?" Miriam suggested slyly. "You two aren't making it so good in the sex department, are you? How long has it been since he gave you a good lovin'?"

"More than a week," Mavis cried softly, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks and trickling off her chin into the deep cleavage between her firm, feverish titties.

She liked the feel of Miriam's fingers under her arm, squeezing the ridge of her breast. "I feel so awful!" Mavis finally blurted, clenching her thighs over her naked, hairy crotch. The thick, blandish mat was soaking wet from her passion and perspiration.

"Sometimes, husbands and wives need a change of partners to make them more appreciative of their own marriages."

In spite of the liquor, Mavis' senses sharpened. What was Miriam hinting at? A thought was building in the back of her mind, emerging solidly from something she had merely sensed in the past. Phil's friends were swingers! Mate-swappers! Miriam, subtly, was proposing that she and Phil engage in the growing pastime of jumping from bed to bed! Oh, no! Were the Quentins involved? Somehow, she knew they were!

And how many other couples in the neighborhood? People that she and Phil didn't even cultivate socially.

"What are you saying, Miriam?" Mavis queried, making her tone absent and disinterested.

"I am sure that I could rekindle Phil's interest in you-the guys talk-and Hank has said several times he is concerned about your physical and mental well-being. Besides that, honey, he has all the equipment and know-how to please a girl. And we women know better than men how important it is to our lives to get rid of those deep passion-pressures so we can be relaxed and serene."

Mavis gulped half of her drink and trembled as if a sudden chill was numbing her body. She looked down at her nudity, panties and tennis shorts around her ankles. "Oh, no, Miriam!"

"Sometimes, it is a big step toward saving marriages-it keeps them from becoming stagnated and dull," Miriam said confidently.

Mavis felt in a state of shock. She didn't even bother to haul up her clothes to cover her nudity while Miriam went to mix two more drinks.

Could she do it with Henry Carr? Her thinking had never dwelled sharply on what it would be like to undress and crawl into bed with one of hers and Phil's neighbors and fuck. And she had never considered that Phil would lay another woman. She just couldn't imagine her husband pouring his meat into another woman's snatch.

Miriam's free hand was on her naked thigh, like a hot iron on her quivering flesh. It was like a daytime nightmare! Miriam was very serious and intent about swapping husbands. And the way she talked, Mavis was certain Henry was all for it! How would Phil react?

She sat very still as Miriam rose, kissed her cool forehead. "Think it over, sweet. Talk it over with Phil when he gets home. I feel certain you will see it my way-for the best of all of us. If you should lean toward the negative, I'll try another method of persuasion-and I am sure it will work!"

Mavis sensed an ominous note in Miriam's tone.