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Oh Susana 3 - Caught in the Act (FM, FM)
Author:   Martina Lee <susanasue@hotmail.com> 


----------------------------------------------------------------

This is the third chapter of my book of short stories, collectively 
entitled "Oh, Susana". I am posting all 17 chapters, including reposts 
of the four chapters submitted previously. Please feel free to comment. 

WARNING: This is adult entertainment only, dealing with sex and sexual 
subjects in explicit language and detail. If you are under age for that 
kind of thing, leave now. This story, and others in the Oh, Susana 
series, may be reposted on ASSM, and redirected to ASS, but may not be 
put to commercial use by anyone but myself. I am willing to discuss them 
on ASSD or you can email me at <susanasue@hotmail.com>

Oh, Susana!
The erotic adventures of a South Seas sexpot
by Martina Lee



3. Caught in the Act (Part 1)

"OH, SHIT!!" Susana pushed at Peter's chest, bucked her hips in a futile 
attempt to throw him off. She hadn't heard the car - not surprising in 
view of the crashing intensity of the orgasm from which she had only 
just recovered - but in the afterglow she heard the "snick" of her 
husband's key in the security gate lock, and the rattle of the latch as 
he opened the front door. "Get OFF," she hissed. "It's Neil. The 
bastard's come home a day early."
Peter, on the verge of climax, was incapable of rational response. His 
eyes were glazed, unfocused, his face contorted into a mask of mindless 
purpose which at any other time Susana would have found hilarious, and 
his pile-driving prick hammered remorselessly at her still-palpitating 
pussy. The tail was wagging the dog, and nature was just going to have 
to take its course. 
Susana shoved again, bucked again. "Get OFF." It was no use. Her senses 
keyed to almost supernatural levels, she heard Neil dump his suitcase on 
the floor in the hall and kick off his shoes, then lock the gate and 
close the door. "Surprise," he called. "It's me." Even that didn't get 
through to Peter. She felt him tense, break stroke, but only in response 
to a higher urgency than a soon-to-be-outraged husband's voice. He 
gasped, shoved, gasped, shoved, cursed, shoved, shuddered, shoved, and 
in spite of her predicament Susana climaxed again, clawing at the 
sheets, whimpering and thrashing her head from side to side as his 
plunging cock exploded inside her.
As the fog cleared she looked towards the bedroom door. It was open - it 
had been open all along - and Neil was standing just inside it, his face 
unreadable and a bunch of flowers in his hand. Even at such a moment, he 
could attempt a feeble joke. "Hi honey," he said tonelessly. "I'm home."
Peter's head snapped round, his eyes widened in disbelief and he jerked 
himself out of her, rolled off the bed and stood hunched in shock, his 
hands clutched in front of his privates. He looked ridiculous. Allowing 
for exaggeration, he was twice Neil's size, and here he was cringing as 
if he was about to be beaten to a pulp. Susana stifled a giggle, waved a 
hand helplessly. For almost the first time in her life, she couldn't 
think of anything to say. She took refuge in formality. "This is Neil," 
she said to no one in particular. "Neil, this is Peter."
Peter scrabbled on the floor for his underpants, turned away from Neil 
and pulled them on. His shrinking dick wept a final dribble of sperm, 
leaving a spreading wet spot.
"Get out." Neil spoke quietly, but there was an edge to his voice that 
Susana had never heard before, and she wondered whether she ought to be 
frightened. He was looking at her, but when he spoke again it was 
obvious his words were directed at Peter. "Get out," he said. "I want to 
speak to my wife."
Peter reached for his trousers and Neil hissed at him. "Leave them 
there," he said. "I don't want you running away. Just get your arse into 
the living room. I'll talk to you later - when I've finished with this 
one." Peter edged past him, his big frame strangely shrunken, both hands 
covering his crotch as if he expected Neil - weedy little Neil!- to lash 
out suddenly and kick him in the balls. Neil didn't even look at him. 
"Shut the door on your way out," he said, and Peter backed into the 
living room, obediently pulling the door shut behind him.
Neil stepped to the side of the bed, stood looking down at her, then 
laid the flowers between her breasts. Like lilies on the chest of a 
corpse, she thought in alarm. Quickly, she shoved the thought aside, 
tried to brazen it out. "Thank you," she said, and batted her eyelashes 
at him. "Shut up, slut." He raised a hand as if to strike her, then 
snatched the flowers away and threw them on the floor behind him. His 
eyes reflected pain, and anger, and something else that Susana couldn't 
quite identify. "Bitch," he said. Where Susana came from it meant whore, 
the cheapest kind of whore, and under any other circumstances she would 
have leapt to her feet and tried to scratch his eyes out. Instead she 
simply lay there, not daring to move, even to bring her knees together, 
accepting the worst insult he could heap on her. She was acutely 
conscious of the perspiration - hers and Peter's - still mottling her 
breasts and belly, and of the even more copious evidence of their 
coupling trickling out of her cunt and on to the sheet between her 
widespread thighs.
As if he read her thoughts, Neil leaned over and slipped the middle 
finger of his right hand deep into her unresisting pussy. He drew it 
out, wet and glistening, examined it for a moment and then held it in 
front of her face. "Bitch," he said again, and still she did not react. 
He wiped his finger on her cheek, trailed his hand down her body and 
probed again into her cunt. "Fucking bitch." Again he withdrew his 
exploring finger, held it up for her to inspect, then carefully smeared 
her lips with the slimy essence of her treachery.
Susana studied his face, alert to every tiny nuance of expression. His 
mouth was set in a dead-straight line, except for a tiny tic tugging at 
the left corner, and his nostrils were flared. His burning eyes searched 
her body, came back to her lips, still puffy from her recent passion and 
now plastered liberally with sperm and her own natural juices. 
Tentatively, she parted her lips a fraction and licked a tiny curd of 
cum from the left side of her mouth. Neil's eyes widened, then narrowed, 
and his breathing quickened. "That's right, bitch," he said, and now the 
menace in his voice was overlaid with a rising note of urgency. "That's 
right. Lap it up."
She opened her mouth a little wider and dabbed at her top lip with her 
tongue, then slowly and methodically, watching his face the whole time, 
licked herself clean.
When she'd finished, he groped again between her legs. Without taking 
his eyes off her face, he screwed three fingers into her cunt and 
rummaged about for several seconds. Peter always came in quarts, and her 
pussy was positively awash. She raised her head to watch as Neil 
withdrew his hand. His fingers were dripping with the leftovers of love, 
pearly threads and three or four great glistening gobs of it. Her head 
flopped back on the pillow as he brought up his hand and poised it 
palm-up over her face. "Open up," he said. She opened her mouth, poked 
her tongue out over her lower lip, and he turned his hand palm-down and 
dipped his fingers to the vertical. The stuff of life dripped gluily on 
to her tongue and slid into her mouth, and she gulped it down, then 
licked and sucked the sticky residue from his fingers as he presented 
them to her one by one.
He straightened up, eyed her speculatively for a moment, then stepped 
around to the end of the bed and stood staring at her weeping cunt. 
Slowly, almost absently, he unbuttoned his shirt, tugged it free of the 
waistband of his trousers, peeled it off and tossed it towards the 
dirty-clothes basket. It missed. He unbuckled his belt, pulled it out of 
its loops, and dangled it like a whip. Self-preservation leapt to the 
fore and Susana snapped her knees together, then swiftly drew her feet 
up towards her buttocks. Neil reacted just as swiftly. He let go of the 
belt, dropped on to the end of the bed, and wrenched her legs apart. She 
struggled for an instant, then decided resistance was only going to fuel 
his anger, and went limp. Feet together and knees spread wide, she felt 
like a frog pinned down for dissection in a high school biology lab. 
Somehow, perversely, that thought excited her and her nipples sprang 
erect.
Neil took his hands from her knees and backed off the bed. His face was 
flushed and he was breathing heavily. He unzipped his fly, unhooked the 
waistband of his trousers and let them fall, then slipped his underpants 
down his legs, bent over and worked his feet free of both garments. 
Susana, watching him warily through the flattened vee of her splayed 
thighs, licked her lips involuntarily as he straightened up and revealed 
the full extent of his arousal.
Normally, these days, it took some serious foreplay - licking, sucking 
and stroking - to get him fully erect and ready to roll. Yet now, 
totally untouched by human hands, his cock sprang proud from the base of 
his belly, its single eye staring defiantly skywards as if searching the 
ceiling.
___
There'd been a lunchroom legend, before she married him almost 11 years 
ago, that he couldn't fuck - that he fainted every time he got a hard-on 
because his dick drained all the blood out of his brain. A prick of 
truly mind-blowing proportions, as one wit put it. It wasn't THAT big, 
but it was certainly more than adequate, and for a long time after the 
first time Susana couldn't get enough of it. Well, that wasn't quite 
true either - for the first year or so they were at it three or four 
times a day, often for hours at a stretch, and when they weren't doing 
it they were both thinking about doing it. How he managed to hold down a 
responsible job while all that was going on was still a mystery.
She'd been an 18-year-old virgin when Neil came into her life, her only 
previous sexual experience a wide-eyed handjob on a pushy young workmate 
named Alipate, who lured her into his flat on some forgotten pretext and 
then took off his pants and wouldn't let her leave until she'd "fixed" 
him. It had been quick, and messy, and in retrospect only mildly 
interesting, and she'd kept well clear of him after that.
Neil was almost exactly twice her age, and she'd been frightened rather 
than flattered when he first began showering his attentions on her. But 
he made her laugh, and in spite of her friends' dire warnings (or 
perhaps because of them) she started going out with him. Simple, 
innocuous dates - nothing that would keep her out beyond the curfew set 
by her traditionalist father, nothing that would lead her down the 
shameful path to dishonor about which the nuns at St Peter's had been so 
fond of talking. Just sandwich lunches in the park three or four times a 
week, quick dinners in the Korner Kaff on nights she had to work late, 
and once an afternoon at the football.
Right at the outset, he told her he intended to marry her, but marriage 
was still a long way in her future and she didn't take him seriously. He 
wooed her with flowers and silly presents - a rubber duck (?), a strange 
kaftan-type dress which she gave to her mother (telling her it was a 
present from an overseas pen-friend) and the one which finally did the 
trick, a fur-covered pillow in the shape of an enormously fat, brown 
sea-lion (she loved it dearly from the start and even today, more than a 
decade later, she pulled it out of the closet occasionally when she felt 
in need of comfort). Unlike the boys against whose crude advances she 
was constantly on guard, he never grabbed at her and he never tried to 
ply her with liquor. They'd hold hands, and he'd kiss her lightly on the 
forehead when he dropped her off down the street from her home, and that 
was all. Pretty soon, she realised it wasn't enough.
On the Saturday afternoon three weeks after their first date she turned 
up at his house uninvited, unannounced and alone, and fell into his 
arms. Barely 10 minutes later, without knowing quite how she got there 
or how she came to be naked, she was writhing in astonished ecstasy on 
his bed with his tongue in her virgin pussy and his burgeoning cock 
throbbing hotly against her shoulder.
He didn't lose consciousness as rumored, but he didn't actually fuck 
her, either, in spite of her willingness to yield up her hymen to him 
right there and then. It was a willingness she made perfectly obvious 
when he came up for air and lay beside her, gently teasing her nipples 
with his fingers. She pulled him over on top of her, groped for his cock 
and tried inexpertly to manoeuvre it between the lips of her cunt. He 
rolled off. Susana was puzzled. Everyone knew that all men wanted was to 
put their thing into your thing and wiggle it about. Was there something 
wrong with her? He laughed, hugged her tightly and kissed her, his mouth 
fragrant with the spoils of cunnilingual congress. He didn't, he said 
quaintly, want to "defile" her. Then he licked his way back down her 
body and ducked his head once more between her legs.
Susana thought she'd died and gone to heaven. The world fell away 
beneath her, and she was just a few square centimetres of quivering 
flesh and a bundle of nerve-endings, which sprouted wings and flew her 
higher, higher, dragging a kaleidoscope of colors behind them until she 
broke through the roof of the sky into inky blackness and exploded in 
shower after shower of silver sparks.
As she fluttered back to earth she became aware that he was once again 
stretched out on his back beside her, his left arm beneath her 
shoulders. She rolled towards him and flung her own left arm across his 
chest. What did he mean, he didn't want to "defile" her? He licked her 
ear, launched into a long and confusing explanation that boiled down to 
not wanting to pop her cherry unless she was willing to give him not 
just her body but also her soul. It came across as pompous rubbish, but 
she realised he was saying, like her mother and the nuns at St Peter's, 
that her virginity was something to be guarded jealously until she was 
safely married. It was only then that she realised how serious he was 
about marrying her, and in that moment she discovered also that she 
loved him.
She kissed him, snuggled her head on his chest and studied the 
foreshortened view of his cock lying quietly on his belly like a beached 
eel, its tip reaching to within a couple of centimetres of his navel. 
She tiptoed her fingers down his body, and stroked it lightly. It shook 
itself awake, its head swelled visibly, and it rose up and winked at 
her.
Neil slipped his hand beneath her armpit and cupped her left breast, and 
she circled his prick with her fingers and made the milking motions the 
obnoxious Alipate had taught her. Neil groaned and squeezed gently on 
her breast, then began kneading her nipple lightly between his middle 
and ring fingers. "Yes," he breathed. "Oh yes, love, do that." 
His cock was hot and hard, and it stiffened and swelled even more as she 
tugged and squeezed. Susana sat up, knelt beside him and watched his 
face as she worked on him. His eyes were closed and his tongue showed 
through parted lips. "Yes," he said again. "Oh, yes. Do it. I love it. I 
need it. Do it."
He opened his eyes and she was shocked and excited to see the helpless 
pleading in them. He reached up a hand and caressed her cheek, then her 
throat, then dropped it lower and stroked her breast. Her nipple 
stiffened again to his touch.
Both of them were breathing heavily now. Susana wrapped both hands 
around his cock and pumped faster. He was gasping, jerking his hips in 
time with her stroking, and his cock was growing huge.
Susana licked her lips, watched fascinated as its rosy tip emerged, 
disappeared, then re-emerged from between her circling fingers. "Yes," 
he gasped. "Oh, yes. Pump me. It feels so good. Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh, yes."
His left hand was busy rubbing, stroking and squeezing her nipple, the 
fingers straying every so often to caress the firmly contoured faces of 
her breast. Then he raised it to her mouth and pressed his thumb against 
her lips. Susana allowed it partway into her mouth, bit gently on it and 
teased it with her tongue. She tore her gaze from his cock, turned her 
head and looked directly into his eyes.
As if that was the signal he had been waiting for, he raised his hips 
towards her and forced his cock further into her hands. "Now," he said. 
"Now. Make me come. Now. Yes. Now. Yes. Now. Now. Now."
He was shaking his head in ecstasy, his cock burned and throbbed, and 
she gripped him still tighter, sensing the pressure building inside him. 
Suddenly he screamed softly, his hips jerked upward, and his juice 
spurted out of him, arcing into the air and splashing back over her 
hands. She kept pumping and there was another jet of sperm over his 
belly, then another, then a slow dribble that dripped stickily through 
her fingers.
He lifted her hands from his prick, raised them to his lips, and kissed 
the tips of her fingers. "Clever hands," he whispered. "So clever." He 
let go of them, sat up and put his arms around her, then kissed her 
softly on the forehead, the eyes, the nose and, finally, the lips.
He pulled up a corner of the sheet, wiped her hands with it, then leaned 
back while, giggling, she mopped up the mess on his belly and in his 
pubic hair. Then he had her lie face down on the bed and sat beside her, 
tracing a zigzag path with his fingers from the nape of her neck, down 
her back, over her buttocks and down the backs of her legs to her feet, 
and up again between her legs to the warm-wet sweetness of her most 
secret place.
He turned her over, traced the same kind of path with his lips from 
throat to nipples, across her belly and further down, and she spread her 
legs and moaned as he dipped his head between them and slipped his 
tongue again into her pussy.
After a while he raised his head, licked his way back up her body and 
kissed her on the lips. Susana shuddered as his probing fingers found 
another love-button. "Lick me some more," she whispered. "Please. Do me 
more." She put a hand on his head, urged it down her body, shuddered 
again as his tongue slipped into her crack, slithered over her clitoris 
and stabbed at the half-sealed entrance to her vagina. She closed her 
eyes, and her legs twitched while a series of near-electric shocks 
passed through her body.
As the pressure built within her, Susana reached for him, her fingers 
caressing his back, his belly, then circling his now-flaccid prick, 
tugging insistently until he moved over her, his tongue still flicking 
at her quivering clitoris, his knees to either side of her head and his 
cock hanging directly over her face.
She poked out her tongue and licked him, tasting the drying sperm on the 
tip of his cock. Then she flung her arms around his back and suddenly, 
somehow, it was in her mouth.
Older, worldly-wise girlfriends had talked about this, giggling, nudging 
each other and slyly watching her reactions. The very idea had repelled 
her. Now, however, it seemed perfectly natural, and she cuddled tighter, 
lifting her head off the bed and purring with passion as his prick began 
to stiffen again between her lips. 
He moaned, and a fresh thrill swept through her body as his tongue 
stabbed at her cunt and his bottom lip vibrated against her clitoris. He 
began to hump his hips, fucking her face, and she worked eagerly on him, 
guided by instinct, licking, pressing and sucking. Then he was rolling 
over, his own lips and tongue still busy between her legs as he flopped 
on to his back and pulled her on top of him.
Susana lifted her head off his cock, moved so that she was kneeling 
astride his chest, and pushed her crotch at his face. "Do more," she 
said, and gasped as he spread the lips of her cunt with his thumbs and 
began nipping at the burning bud of her clitoris. His tool jerked and 
flopped against his belly, and she leaned forward and once again slurped 
it into her mouth.
Now that she was in control she began to experiment, raising her head so 
that only the very tip was between her lips, teasing with her tongue, 
then slowly working her way down the shaft until her mouth was full of 
him. Up, down, in, out, and all the time his prick seemed to be growing 
harder and bigger, longer and thicker, and his tongue lapping at her 
cunt was causing tiny shockwaves that seemed to run right through her 
body and burst in sparks behind her eyeballs.
Up, down, in, out, faster, deeper. He began to writhe beneath her, and 
she found herself shaking uncontrollably as he pressed his face harder 
into her cunt, his cunning tongue jabbing, probing, stabbing, sliding 
sensuously over every surface and into every crevice.
Up, down, up, down, her busy lips and tongue on autopilot now and all of 
her conscious attention centred on the fire Neil was stoking in her 
crotch.
Then she was coming, and she pressed back hard into his face as the 
shocks merged into a blinding flash of silver sparks in her head. She 
cried out, the sound smothered by the rigid pole of flesh in her mouth, 
as wave after giant wave of orgasm reared up, broke, and came crashing 
down on the sunswept beach of her body.
When she regained her senses he was still licking at her, his tongue 
slithering up and down her crack and stabbing at her swollen clit. His 
cock was still in her mouth, and now he was humping his hips, heaving 
himself up to drive deeper and deeper on every one of her downstrokes.
Suddenly he tensed, and somehow his cock seemed to swell even more, 
stretching her lips to the limit and boring even deeper into her mouth.
Up, down, up, down, and he threw his arms over her buttocks, cuddled her 
tight and thrashed his head from side to side in her crotch. His cock 
jerked once, twice, and then exploded, flooding her mouth with warm, 
salty fluid. Susana choked, swallowed, and went on sucking. There was 
more sperm, a strange mixture of faint, indefinable flavors that numbed 
her mouth, and she swallowed again, pulling at his twitching tool with 
her lips and tongue to milk him dry.
He moaned with pleasure, plunged his tongue once again into her pussy 
and they came together, clinging tightly to each other and thrashing 
about on the bed until neither of them had any more to give.
Finally, she rolled off and lay panting on her back. Neil sat up, turned 
around and lay beside her. He slipped an arm beneath her shoulders and 
pulled her to him. They kissed, then slept.
Three days later, at lunch in the park with people all around them, he 
went down on his knees at her feet and formally asked her to marry him. 
The little box he proffered turned out to contain what may have been the 
smallest solitaire diamond ever set in a ring, and she thought it the 
most beautiful piece of jewellery she had ever seen. She wore it proudly 
back to the office, and no one dared comment on the size of the stone. 
Nor, ever again, did any of them say anything - at least in front of her 
- about the supposed size of Neil's equipment.
Her parents were horrified. In accordance with custom she had been 
"promised" to a remote cousin since she was 14. That was not a real 
problem - the promise could be broken without shame, and in any case he 
wouldn't want her if she was no longer a virgin. They couldn't believe 
she was still intacta, and she had to submit to examination by her 
grandmother. The result of the examination mollified her father a 
little. What was more worrying was Neil's age (he was actually three or 
four months older than Susana's mother), the fact that she had kept his 
existence secret from them, and the Really Big Issue - he was white!
They discussed it for two days, during which she wasn't allowed to leave 
the house, and were no closer to agreement when Neil turned up and 
brought the whole thing to a head. Everyone - brothers, sisters, 
grandmother, aunts, uncles and cousins - crowded into the house to watch 
and listen as he asked her father for her hand in marriage. He answered 
all their questions politely, quietly and confidently. In a little more 
than an hour and a half he had won them over and Susana didn't even have 
to play her trump card - that she would get pregnant and then they would 
HAVE to let her marry him.
After their betrothal feast the following weekend, she moved in with 
him. That was entirely her idea - Neil was willing to wait, months if 
necessary, until they were properly married, but Susana wanted it all 
and she wanted it NOW. The last guest was barely out the door before she 
dragged him to bed and literally overpowered him with the full force of 
her instinctive, driving sexuality. She cried out more in triumph than 
in pain when he deflowered her, and they fucked until dawn, then slept 
for four hours and started again.
Hours later, as she lay bathed in sweat in the crook of his arm and 
toyed absently with his exhausted tool, he wanted to know if she was 
really sure. After all, he said, she was very young and he was her first 
love. For himself, he said, he had no doubts at all, but he would 
understand if she wanted to hold off on marriage for a while, play the 
dating game and maybe taste the fruit in someone else's garden before 
taking the final step. She kissed him to shut him up, told him not to be 
silly, swore eternal love and slithered down the bed to lick him back 
into shape.
They fucked again. Afterwards he held her face in his hands and looked 
earnestly into her eyes, vowed that in spite of his notorious past she 
was now and forever hence the only woman in his life, but that he fully 
expected her eventually to develop an itch for a younger lover. She 
protested, and he hushed her with a kiss. In 10 years or so, he said, 
he'd be pushing 50 and she'd be regretting not having sown her wild 
oats. When that happened, he said, as he was sure it would, he hoped she 
would trust him enough to tell him, and not go sneaking around behind 
his back. That, he said, was what had killed his first marriage - he 
could have handled the infidelity but he couldn't stomach the lies.
Susana cuddled him, told him he was talking twaddle, and soothed him to 
sleep. They were married three weeks later and she had been faithful to 
him ever since.

Until Peter . . . Begin Part 2. . .

Neil climbed on to the bed, his cock swaying at attention, his eyes 
burning into hers. "Hold your legs," he said. Susana hooked her hands 
under her thighs and pulled them towards her chest. Her feet came up off 
the bed and swung apart. Neil shuffled closer. "Higher," he said. 
"Wider." She hesitated for a moment, then reached between her knees, 
grasped the soles of her feet and pulled until they, and her gaping 
cunt, were pointed straight at the ceiling. He loomed over her, and with 
some difficulty depressed his weapon to the horizontal and jammed the 
tip obliquely into her pussy. Then he placed both hands on the backs of 
her thighs, transferred most of his weight to them and forced them 
further apart, and plunged.
She gasped in pain as his cock slammed into her cervix. Then his full 
weight descended on her upturned thighs as he heaved himself up for the 
next thrust, and she gasped again. He had never before intentionally 
hurt her, but now he was positively brutal. Bent almost double, her legs 
spread to the limit and her knees pushed back almost into her armpits, 
she felt she was being ripped apart like a barbecued chicken. Every 
thrust, every withdrawal, was pure agony. "Don't," she sobbed as he 
crashed and pressed, crashed and pressed, his angry cock spearing deep 
into her vitals and his cruel hands pushing, pushing, forcing her legs 
further apart at every stroke. "Don't. Please. It hurts. Don't hurt. 
Stop. Don't hurt me. Please. Don't." He ignored her pleading. His face 
hung over hers, his features a contorted mixture of fury and lust. 
"Bitch," he grunted, driving home each word with another womb-crushing 
shove. "Fucking, lying, cheating, sneaking BITCH."
Gradually, the pain crossed the threshold from torment to rapture. She 
was still pleading with him, but the words were getting mixed up: "Don't 
. . . Stop . . . hurt . . . Please . . . Don't . . . Stop . . . Hurt . . 
. me . . . Fuck . . . me . . . Hurt me . . . Fuck me . . . fuck me . . . 
split me . . . fuck me . . . oh god . . . hurt me, fuck me, fuck me, 
harder, fuck me, split me, don't stop, hurtmehurtme . . . please me, 
hurt me . . . harder . . . harderharderharderfuckmeeeeee . . ." She 
grabbed his head, wrenched it down to hers and kissed him, sucking at 
his lips and tongue and whimpering into his open mouth as she climaxed.
When her convulsions subsided, Neil levered himself off her body and 
flopped face-up on the bed beside her. Cautiously, wincing as her joints 
and muscles returned to their natural alignments, Susana lowered her 
legs and rolled on to her side to look at him. Tears of pain and remorse 
trickled down her cheeks as she studied his face. His eyes were closed, 
his lips bruised and bleeding from the violence of her kisses, and his 
breath was coming in shuddering gasps. Susana raised up on her elbow, 
leaned over him and softly kissed his eyelids. "I'm sorry," she said. 
"I'm so sorry." Without opening his eyes, he reached up a hand and 
touched her cheek.
"Finish me off," he said quietly, and there was no more menace in his 
voice, only resignation. Susana was confused for a moment, then looked 
down his body and saw his cock, still erect and angling obliquely up 
over his belly, reddened from its recent abuse and marbled with whitish 
strings and patches of whipped sperm. She slid down the bed and licked 
him clean. Then she knelt between his calves, leaned forward and took 
him into her mouth.
Later, Neil would tell her it was the most incredible blowjob he had 
ever experienced. That was praise indeed. When it came to fellatio he 
was a connoisseur and she, by virtue of instinct and education, was an 
adept. This time, it was instinct uppermost. In spite of the violence he 
had just visited on her, she sensed that what he needed was absolute 
tenderness. She held him vertical with just the slightest pressure of 
her fingers about the base of his penis and mouthed him softly, her lips 
enclosing him just behind the glans and her tongue sliding voluptuously 
around the tip. Then she "walked" her lips slowly centimetre by 
centimetre down the shaft, stopping at each step to press lightly with 
lips and tongue, until her mouth was full of throbbing cock. Looking up 
from under her brows, she saw that Neil had raised his head to watch. He 
reached out a hand and placed it on top of her head, and his cock 
twitched in her mouth as he pressed her down another couple of centimetres.
He sighed audibly, dropped both his head and his hand back to the bed, 
and she compressed her lips and slowly, slowly, shaking her head 
slightly from side to side, her tongue flattened firmly against the 
underside of his cock, she worried her way back to the tip. Then she 
repeated the procedure. Slowly, softly, gently, inexorably, she brought 
him to the boil, refusing to hurry even when his breathing quickened and 
his hips began to heave beneath her.
When she sensed he was on the brink of orgasm, she placed the fingers of 
her free hand lightly on the base of his belly and massaged him with a 
quick, circular motion. It was a trick which she knew from long 
experience helped him to achieve release, and she was instantly 
rewarded. He came forever, his legs twitching, his chest heaving, his 
juice draining out of him in quick, hot spurts. There was an awful lot 
if it, but Susana trapped it all in her mouth and gulped it down, 
continued rubbing and sucking even after it was all gone and he begged 
her to stop. His dick softened, then shrank in on itself, and she kept 
working on it until it was no more than a tiny, trembling, exhausted 
mouse nestling nervously in his pubic hair. She gave him a final lick 
for good measure, then raised her head, stretched herself full-length 
atop his body, and kissed him wetly on the mouth.
His arms went round her and he nuzzled her throat, then rolled her off. 
She lay on her back beside him, waiting for the inevitable. He groped 
for her hand and twined their fingers together. Then the interrogation began:
"Who is he?" "Where did you meet him?" "When did you meet him?" "When 
did you start screwing him?" Simple questions, simply answered. He 
didn't ask whether Peter had seduced her - he knew her well enough to be 
sure that, if anything, it was she who had been the aggressor. He didn't 
ask whether Peter was a better lover, or had a bigger prick - if he had, 
she would have said no, just new and different. That was true - Neil 
peppered their sex life with fantasy, blowing her mind as easily and as 
frequently as she blew his cock, so that their lovemaking was a total 
brain and body experience; Peter, though sweet and intelligent, in bed 
was just a big, beautiful, male animal with no imagination. In a way, 
that was part of his attraction for her - it was a relief, for a change, 
not to have her mind fucked along with her body.
"Do you love him?" She didn't even have to think about it. "No. I love 
you. I just fuck him." She lifted their clasped hands to show him their 
interlocking fingers, alternating and seemingly inseparable layers of 
brown and white, a long-ago-discovered symbol of their union which she 
knew meant more to him even than their wedding bands.
"Give him up." Again, she didn't have to think. "No," she said. "I need him."
"Fuck off then. Go and live with him.""No. I love you. I want to stay with you."
"Give him up.""No.""I'll kick his teeth in."
Susana giggled. The threat was absurd. "No you won't," she said. "You couldn't."
"I will. I'll kick his fucking teeth in."
She giggled again, rolled over and kissed him. "I need him," she said. 
"I truly do."
He sighed and gave in. "All right," he said. "All right, you can keep 
him." She squealed delightedly. "I do love you," she said, and kissed 
him again. He returned the kiss, then gently pushed her away. "I haven't 
finished," he said. "You can have him, but I won't put up with you 
sneaking around. If he's going to be your lover, that makes him part of 
the family. My brother-in-law? No. Closer than that. Co-husband, or 
something. Whatever. I want you here. If you want to fuck him, fuck him 
here. Just don't wear yourself out on him. I still want my share of 
you." He rolled towards her and slipped his hand between her legs. 
"Okay?" She kissed him again. "Yes sir," she said. "Yes yes yes yes yes. Sir."
Neil withdrew his fingers from her cunt and got up. "Come on, then," he 
said. "It's news time." He wrapped a laplap around his waist and stood 
waiting for her. Susana picked her knickers off the floor and stepped 
into them, thought about pulling on a dress and decided it wasn't 
necessary. Neil went ahead of her to the door, opened it, and together 
they walked out to tell Peter.
He was sitting dejectedly in the armchair in his underpants, apparently 
watching the TV. It wasn't even turned on. He looked towards the door as 
it opened, took in Susana's near-naked state, and looked quickly away. 
Susana crossed the floor in front of him and stood by the side of the 
chair. Neil walked to the dining table at the far end of the room and 
lit a cigarette. "She tells me she has to have you," he said to the back 
of Peter's head. "I've told her she can." Peter looked wonderingly at 
Susana and she reached out and ruffled his hair. "There are certain 
conditions," said Neil. "She can tell you about them." He sat down at 
the table and picked up the paper.
Susana slid her hand down Peter's chest and under the waistband of his 
underpants, and laid hold of his cock. "Come with me," she said. He got 
to his feet uncertainly, looked back over his shoulder at Neil. Susana 
tugged his tool. "Come on," she said. She shifted her grip, winked at 
Neil, and led her stumbling lover by the balls into the spare room. Once 
inside, she pushed him on to the bed, then turned back and closed the 
door. She stripped off her pants, then his, and sat on his legs, playing 
with his prick as she explained the new rules of the game. He was 
confused, and embarrassed, and it took him some time to catch on. But 
eventually he rose to the occasion, and she had her way with him.
Finally, after about an hour, she lifted herself free of his weary 
willy, wiped herself with her knickers and stepped naked and steaming 
back into the living room. Neil was still sitting at the table. She took 
his hand and led him into their bedroom.
Two days later, Peter moved out of his flat and into the spare room, and 
the game of musical beds was born . . .

The End
