GK-550


The Soldier's Wife

by

Alex Ayers



Prologue

The explosion.

Captain Allen Farrow heard it again and again.

Pieces of flesh splattered against his face.  A dismembered thigh
hurtled through the air and smashed against the back of his neck,
knocking him unconscious.

"Kawhump!"

"Kawhump!"

The haze cleared and he opened his eyes.  The black figure standing
before him laughed loudly.  Its foot lashed out and caught him in the
jaw, knocking him to the ground.

Again and again the foot crunched into his body, sinking into his
stomach, bouncing off his spine, the back of his head.  He could taste
the blood dripping into his mouth from his injured lip and feel the
contusions growing like eggs over his body.

There was silence.

Farrow groaned as he rolled to his side and felt the bonds tighten
around his wrists and ankles.

"Skipper?  Skipper?"

Sergeant Monroe's voice filtered through the pain.

The sergeant's gaunt, bloody face wavered into focus beside him.  Blood
caked in a blob where his left eye should have been, his shoulder was
ripped open and flies roosted on the exposed, raw flesh like tiny,
black, iridescent vultures.

Monroe coughed, blood pouring from his mouth as he tried to speak.
Voices jabbered behind him and Farrow looked up.

Three Viet Cong women stood looking down at him, laughing.  AK-47
assault weapons were slung over their shoulders and hand grenades
dangled from the thin, black belts pinching their waists.

A young-faced girl pointed at Monroe and jabbered rapidly.  The other
women laughed and drew knives.

"Jesus Christ," Allen Farrow muttered as he watched the women yank
Monroe's head back and plunge the blades into the man's throat.  Farrow
shut his eyes and waited for the knives to pierce his throat.

A stinging blow to the back of his neck sent him sprawling.

They carried him as they might a dead beast, bound to a long tube of
wood, his back bouncing off the ground, his wrists and feet tied above
him.

He awoke, tasting the flies clinging to his blood-soaked lips.  His body
ached and blood trickled down his arms from his wrists.

Dumping him by a slow-moving stream, the women pulled their black
pajamas off and splashed into the water, laughing and giggling.

Frantically eyeing the untended rifles laying a few feet from him,
Farrow began to twist his hands, sawing them along the wooden shaft's
ridge as he felt them loosen.

"Boum-boum."

He stopped and looked up.  The women were standing naked above him,
their breasts dripping water down onto his peeling face.  The young
one's raven hair glistened as she yakked at the others.

"Boum-boum," she repeated, reaching down and grabbing his penis.  He
screamed as the pain tore through him.  The girl yanked his cock,
stretching it as she snapped it like an old piece of rope she was trying
to break.  For a moment, Farrow screamed, afraid the appendage would rip
out by its roots.

"Bitches!  Filthy whores!"  He spat the words through clenched teeth as
the girl yanked his prick again.  She relaxed her grip on his pole and
began yelling commands at the bystanders.

Giggling childishly, the fattest of the trio waddled over to a box near
the rifles and squatted over it.  The young one slapped Farrow's face
and spat betel nut juice at him, distracting his attention from the
heavy one.

The fat woman returned, pinching her heavy legs together as she lumbered
his way.  She positioned herself above his face and squatted so that her
cavernous vagina hovered inches from his face.  He watched with gelled
eyes as her snatch shut out the light and covered his nose and mouth.
He opened wide, trying to suck in a breath of air.

First one, then another dropped from her gash into his mouth.  They were
hard and brittle, scampering across his tongue, pushing their feelers
against his cheeks.

Farrow gagged and shut his mouth, feeling the roaches squash between his
teeth as he fought for air.

He pumped his arms madly up and down and felt them connect with his
tormentor's face.  A bright splash of sunlight smashed against his eyes
as her body rolled off.  Without thinking, he leapt to the left, where
he had seen the rifles gleaming in the sun only moments ago.

Fingernails clawed at his face as he scrabbled for the weapon.  He swung
back over his shoulders and knocked the woman to the ground.  He grabbed
the rifle and leveled it, pulling the trigger point blank as the two
women rushed toward him, knives in their hands.  As if in slow motion,
their advance slowed before his eyes, their heads jerked back, their
shoulders sloped forward, red holes dotted their faces, chunks of flesh
exploded from their foreheads and cheeks as they fell in a bloody mass
at his feet.

Farrow pushed himself shakily to his feet and aimed the rifle at the
unconscious young girl lying beside him.  He pushed the barrel of the
rifle between her legs.

"Cunt, you're going to die like a whore should."  He pulled the trigger.
Nothing.  He snapped back the operating rod handle and felt it drive
home.  Smiling, he pulled the trigger again.

Thung.

The pin hit the empty chamber.

"Bitch," Farrow snarled, kicking at her limp body and falling to the
ground.  His feet were still tied.

"You'll get yours, cunt," he growled, crawling to the packs and slicing
the rope with a knife he found.  "I'll make you pay, you filthy whore."

Trembling, he picked up the woman's body, carried her to the slow-moving
stream and dumped her in the water.  She floated for a few seconds then
stirred, raising her head and coughing out the tepid water.

Farrow reached down, grabbed a handful of hair and pressed the knife
against her throat.  Her almond-shaped eyes looked wildly up at him as
she backed up onto the shore.

"You wanted to fuck me, bitch.  Now you're going to get your chance.
You hear me?  You fucking, hear me?"  The cords on his neck bulged as he
slowly drew the knife across her throat, barely cutting the skin and
making the blood dribble down her chest, forming worm-like wriggles down
her cleavage.

She sobbed and wailed in Vietnamese.

	"Shut up!  Shut your fucking mouth, you whore.  You murdering
	WHORE!"

He could still taste the cockroaches in his mouth as he spat out the
words.  His mind swirled and his eyes burned as he looked down into her
pleading, childish face.  For a moment he thought about home; the
children in the streets; his wife; the ocean lapping at the shore; an
orphan he had given five-hundred plasters to in Quang Ngai.  His ears
rang and he heard the explosion again; saw the faces masked in agony;
felt the chunks of the bodies smashing against him, pinning him to the
ground; saw Monroe's haunting eye and quivering lips warning him; saw
the knife the girl had plunged into his sergeant's neck, dripping with
blood; saw Monroe's eyes widen and his face turn livid as the blood
gushed from his neck.

"On your knees, pig."  He pushed the girl down into the duff.

"See this?  See it?"  He pulled his penis out and waved it in front of
her.  "You wanted this a minute ago.  You're going to get it, now.  In
the ass, where you and fucking comrades deserve it.  In the fucking ass,
slut."

He dropped to his knees behind her, tears welling in his eyes.  Sobbing,
he shouted and stabbed at her anus with his limp penis.

"Take that, you bitch.  Feel it."  Again and again he pounded against
her buttocks, but his penis wouldn't stiffen.

Pulling her hair, he snapped her head back and pressed the knife against
her throat.

"Suck my cock until it's hard, bitch!" he screamed.  "And don't try to
bite it or I'll cut your throat."  He chomped his teeth and ran his
finger across his throat, then pushed her head down and stuffed his
prick into her mouth.  She didn't open at first and he grabbed her arm
and twisted it until she shrieked.

He felt her lips close around it and her gentle suckings draw the staff
to life as she sobbed and looked up at him, her eyes pleading, afraid.
The dong was hard now, and he pulled it out and pushed her face into the
dirt as he moved around her and lifted her buttocks into the air.

Spitting on his hands, he wetted the head of his cock and lunged into
her ass, making her cry in pain as he viciously thrust forward, sinking
the shaft to the hilt.  His hands crept under her and grabbed a breast,
squeezing it so hard she cried out again and beat the ground with her
fists.

He jabbed into her and took his knife in his left hand.  Pressing the
point against her back, he slid it down and watched the razor line fill
with blood as the blade sliced her skin.

She screamed and he picked a handful of dirt and rubbed it into the
wound.

"Scum.  You rotten scum!"  His voice shook as he moved in a steady
rocking motion, driving the tool deep into the squishy, ravaged tissues
of her bowels.  He felt the semen rising up from his balls, thundering
through the small, expanding tubes, spurting deep into her ass.

She moaned and whimpered, her face resting on the dirt, her hands
clenching dead leaves and twigs.  As the last ounce of spunk shot into
her, Allen Farrow pressed the knife against the girl's throat and drew
it across her throat like a bow across a violin.  He heard her gurgle
and saw the blood spill out onto the earth, seeping into the dry soil as
fast as it pooled from the girl's severed veins.

Screaming and throwing the knife away, he ran headlong toward the east.

Chapter 1

His hands roamed over her pouting breasts.

It was a good, soft, comforting feeling.  She moaned and stretched her
arms out in a "T" and squeezed her eyes shut as he studied and teased
his wife's naked body.

The nipples were as he had left them eighteen months ago-turgid, rosy,
standing up at the crest of her round, firm mounds like tiny, pink,
nailless thumbs.  Her throat dipped gently, rising up along her thin,
delicate neck to her dainty ears screened with silky, auburn strands of
hair.

He leaned down and kissed her soft neck, letting his lips trail down to
her breasts where he captured the hard nipple and sucked it eagerly into
his thirsty mouth.

"Ummm," she moaned, running her slender fingers through his curly hair.
He teased the nipple between his teeth, feeling its hard, marble-like
shape roll from one side of him mouth to the other.

"Glad I'm home?" he asked, letting the nipple pop out of his mouth and
sliding his rough hand down to her thigh where he stroked the ivory
flesh gently.

"Ummmm, yes," she answered dreamily, lolling her head and wrapping her
arms around his neck.

She pulled him down and his mouth met hers.  At first their lips pressed
softly, grazing across each other as their tongues danced playfully at
the entrance of their mouths.  She pulled him hard to her and his mouth
mashed against hers, his tongue wriggling frantically against hers as
his fingers stole up and flicked at her vagina.  She moaned and sucked
on his tongue, drawing the organ deep into her mouth.  He stiffened his
tongue and felt her lips slide back and forth over it as her hips began
to buck against his fingers, driving the digit deep into her box.

He pumped her slowly as they slid across each other's body, her
fingernails digging into his back, his hand massaging her left breast as
his other hand cradled her neck, pulling her head roughly against his
mouth.

She broke the kiss and, panting, nibbled on his ear and let her tongue
rim the gentle circular indentions.  She nipped on the lobe and lanced
her tongue in and out, mocking the pumping action of his finger in her
cunt.

"Now," she murmured, sliding her hand down his back to his hirsute ass.
She pulled at the firm, muscles of his rear, feeling the coarse,
affluent hair stiffen under her smooth palms.

He shifted and slid between her legs, guiding his rigid penis toward her
hole.  He rested the head in the warm, tight slot as she wrapped her
legs slowly around his waist, locking her heels together over his
buttocks.

"Welcome home," she cooed, looking up at his broad, handsome face.  She
closed her eyes as he pushed the shaft into her.  Her face twisted
slightly as the massive size of his cock-head eased in, spreading the
tissues of her vagina to make room for the rest of his seven inches.

"Ohhhh, that's so good," she moaned, twisting her hips slightly and
helping him sink in deeper and deeper.

He could feel the warm, pudding-like flesh sucking at the sides of his
pole as he eased into her, rocking gently back and forth, feeling the
warm wetness send shivers up his spine.

Her slot expanded slowly and he began to rock faster and faster as the
dong slipped easily into her.  He clutched her buttocks in his strong
hands and pulled her up as he drove down, sinking his meat fully into
her wriggling loins.

She hadn't forgotten what he liked.  She thrashed her hips sideways as
he drove into her.  Her motions bent his penis and made it rap against
the juicy membranes of her vagina walls as she gyrated beneath him.

He pressed his lips on hers and their tongues fenced as he pulled harder
and harder at her buttocks, bucking and heaving his hundred-and-eighty-
pound frame into her.

Her blue eyes rolled back and he saw the whites shining in the dim light
as she whimpered and sank her fingernails painfully into his neck.

Drooling with saliva, he kissed her cheek and pressed his mouth against
her ear, tonguing it as she had his.  Her hair was wet and matted
against her neck and the bed squeaked as he lunged forward, driving the
headboard against the wall.

A sharp, warm, exciting sensation rippled through him as he felt his
sperm making its way up from his enlarged testicles.

"Screw ... screw me, hard ... oh ... hard ... ummph ... deep ..."

She muttered the words softly as he battered into her, feeling her legs
tighten around his waist, her hands squeeze the flesh on his back.

Madly, he drove his engorged cock into her until he felt the stinging
sensation of his sperm splashing out into her hot snatch.  She cried and
her legs stiffened.  Her mouth slid across his cheek and her tongue
raved at his face as she bucked and cried and thrashed beneath him.

He felt her sag as her cunny spasmed around his sperm-oozing cock.
Again and again she flexed the vaginal muscles to drain his slick pole
of its last ounce of life-juice.

Limply, he lay his head against hers and rolled onto his side, pulling
her with him.  They breathed slowly, their hands gently rubbing the
other's flesh, their eyes closed in the glowing aftermath of satisfying
sex.

"Happy?" Gwen Farrow asked her exhausted husband as they sat sipping the
sweet Bombay drinks Allen had made.  Gwen wore a diaphanous floor-length
gown Allen had bought for her last month in Saigon.

"Fatigued," Allen said, rolling his head against the soft leather
recliner and staring appreciatively at his mouth-watering wife.  Had he
not been sapped of all his strength, he would have scooped her up and
taken into the bedroom for another round.

She crossed her legs and he could see her velvet-smooth thighs cover
part of her dark, pubic patch.  Her rosette nipples poked gently against
the sheer material as she raised her arm and drank from the snifter.

"I love you," Allen said, saluting her with his glass.

She puckered her lips and threw him a kiss, her icy-blue eyes glimmering
in the subdued light of their small apartment.

"What was it like, Al?  You never wrote about it in your letters."  She
cocked her head like a small bird watching for a movement in the grass.
He thought of her as a bird, a dainty, delicate bird perched anywhere
she went, her straight nose and sharp chin twitching this way and that,
her eyes smiling contagiously and her lips closed slightly, leaving only
a small diamond of space between the middle of upper and lower lip.

He had married her on impulse.  He had his orders for Vietnam.  He was
dating her.  They were sleeping together, laughing, loving, sharing
their secrets.  He had wanted something more than just a relationship.
He had wanted a wife, something to come home for, something to stay
alive for.

"Hot, sweaty, smelly, long."  He snubbed his cigarette out and took a
swallow from the drink, rolling the burning fluid around his mouth and
then swallowing it and letting it burn pleasantly down to his toes.

"I was afraid for you."

"I know.  I was afraid too."

"For me?"

"Both of us.  It's over now, though.  I'm through with the service.
Another month and we'll be civilians."

"Have you decided what you're going to do?" she asked, setting her glass
on the coffee table and folding her hands in her lap.  Her head tasted
to one side and her cheery eyes made him smile.

"No.  Bum around for a month or two.  We've got enough money socked away
to give us a long vacation."

He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands on the leather arms of the
chair.  It was good being home, he thought, good and safe.  Maybe the
nightmares would stop now, maybe he would be free of the horror-filled
nights and the drenching sweat had plagued him for six months---ever
since---ever since ...

"Penny"

"Huhhh?"

"Penny for your thoughts?"  She crossed the room and sat on the edge of
the chair and ran her slim fingers through his hair, letting them trace
the heavy outline of his jaw and scrape across the stubby beard
shadowing his dark face.

"Make it a mill and you've got yourself some thoughts."  He pulled her
down into his lap and kissed her gently on the lips.  She smelled like a
blossoming flower, fresh, dewy, virginal.  He ran his hand over her
milk-white flesh and watched as his fingers left red, exciting trails
across her skin.

"You have a great body," he said cupping her pert, firm breast and
squeezing it.  She kissed him lightly on the nose.

"For a rough and ready Marine, you seem pretty tame to me," she said,
touching his lips with her finger.

"You're my commanding officer, aren't you?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow
and looking sternly into her young, delicately defined face.

"You bet you life on that, Captain Farrow, U-S-M-C-R, winner of the
Silver Star and Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry."  She leaned back and
thrust out her chest, tucked her chin in and flapped her arms playfully
at her sides.

Allen's face went livid and he pushed her away, startling her.

"What's the matter, did I say ..."

"It's nothing ... nothing ... I'm sorry, Gwen."

He stood and stepped over her.  She had slipped off his lap onto the
carpet and was awed, staring up at him.  He rubbed the back of his thick
neck nervously and poured another glassful of the brandy drink.

"Still a little jittery, that's all," he excused, turning around and
looking at his dumfounded wife sitting on the floor, her hands at her
sides, her jaw drooping.

"Sorry," he said sinking down beside her and pulling her close to him.
"I ... I've still got some things on my mind.  Things I want to forget.
Things I have to figure out."

There was a silence between them.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No ... no, not yet."  He rubbed her arm with a trembling hand, his eyes
darting furtively from one of her eyes to the other.  "Patience, I
guess, Gwen.  A little patience.  I'll work it out."

He pulled her to him and pressed her tightly against his chest.  She
felt his chest heaving as he breathed quickly.  His arms held her like a
vise.  She had hoped she could tell him about it tonight, but now it
would have to wait.

He wasn't ready.  Something was the matter and she didn't know what it
was.  But she didn't want to take any chances, saying the wrong thing at
the wrong time.  She'd wait and when the time was right, she'd tell him
about the group.  She'd explain why she joined, why she made love to the
other men and women.

He would understand.  If she was careful.  She had to be careful.  He
was a different man than any she had ever met.  He kept things inside
him, letting them percolate for months.

And they would explode violently, gushing out of him like a raging
storm.  So she had to be quiet and wait for an opportune time.  It would
come soon, she hoped.  The club wanted to meet him, to have him join.

And she wanted it too.  She wanted it more than ever, for without the
club she would have been a nervous wreck while he was gone.  They helped
her.  They steered her on the right course and kept her happy.  They
satisfied her needs and loved her in the dark moments when she was
lonely and frightened.

Allen would understand.  He had to.

Chapter 2

Allen had been gone six months when they came.

Gwen had tried everything, from bowling leagues with the Officers' Wives
Club to college night courses.

She was nervous and irritable, clinging to the door and watching for the
postman every day, hoping he had a letter from Allen.

But the letters came, three and four at a time, only once a month.
Allen had written he was on reconnaissance patrol most of the time and
could only write when they came in to headquarters.  His letters were
short and choppy, mostly asking questions and saying he loved her and
would be home soon.

What little she knew about what he was doing came in the form of news
stories from the Camp Pendleton Scout, when occasionally his name would
be mentioned and the reporter told about a night attack or the blowing
up of a bridge deep in enemy territory.

The Vietnamese medal had come first.  The commanding officer of the
reconnaissance company from the camp had sent her a letter with a copy
of the citation explaining why Allen had received the medal.  The letter
had praised Allen's work and stated that he was also recommended for the
Silver Star.

But the glory had only salved her loneliness for a while, and then she
sank back into the morose climate of the war-widow existence, always
doing things with other women, never being seen alone with a man,
avoiding going out too often at night for fear someone in the
neighborhood might get the wrong idea.

It was frustrating and she often cried herself to sleep, beating her
small fists into the pillow and wishing for Allen to appear in the
doorway, to take her roughly in his arms and cover her body with kisses,
to rape her, and then caress and comfort her in his strong, hirsute
arms.

But her dream never came true and she ended up sobbing herself into the
darkness of sleep, to awake to another empty day.

That was all before she met them.  They had come on a Saturday
afternoon.

*    *    *

The doorbell rang and Gwen peered through the split in the curtains
before answering it.

"Yes?"  she said through the locked screen door.

"Mrs. Gwen Farrow?"

"Yes?"

	"We're Bob and Sybil McCusker.  A friend of mine in Vietnam
	knows your husband, Allen, and we thought we'd drop in and say
	hello."

"Allen?"

"Yes, may we?"

	"Certainly.  Yes, please, come in."  She nervously unlatched the
	door and stepped aside as the couple entered.

	"Sorry about the locked doors and everything, but you know how
	it is these days.  Can't trust anyone."  Her voice was excited
	as she ushered them into the front room.

"Care for something to drink?  It's a hot day."

	"No, thank you," the woman said, smiling up at Gwen.

	"You sure?  Only take a see to fix something.  How about you,
	Mister ..."

"Bob.  Call me, Bob, Gwen.  Yes, I'd like something.  Glass of water
will be fine."

"We have some beer ..."  Gwen blushed and wiped her hands on her apron.
"I mean ... I have some beer or gin if you'd like a drink."

"Well ... sure, how about a Collins?" Bob asked, smiling at her.
"Sybil?" he asked, addressing his wife.

"Fine.  But don't go to any trouble."

"No trouble.  No trouble at all," Gwen called over her shoulder as she
scurried to the kitchen to make the drinks.

"Prime," Bob whispered to his wife.  Sybil smiled, a haughty, nonchalant
air about her as she tapped a cigarette on her gold case and waited for
Bob to light it for her.

"Very prime," she replied, tilting her head back and exposing her creamy
neck as she blew a hazy shaft of smoke up toward the dropped ceiling.

Gwen balanced the tinkling glasses into the room and bent, offering them
to the couple.  Bob hesitated as he reached for his glass, peering down
the low-cut neckline of Gwen's sundress.

"Very attractive apartment," Sybil said throatily, taking Gwen's
attention from Bob's prying eyes.

"Thank you.  I don't have much else to keep me busy."

"Too bad Allen's away.  Such a lovely woman you are," Bob said, raising
his glass and smiling.

"Thanks again," Gwen said innocently, settling on the edge of the large
ottoman.  "I don't get many male compliments these days."

"Reclusing?" Sybil asked, her long, false eyelashes lifting and falling
over her hazel eyes.

"War widow.  Suppose you know what that's like.  Were you in the
service, Bob?  Marines?"

"Army," Bob said setting his drink down.

"Ohhh," Gwen sighed, disappointed.

	"Oh, I know how you Marine wives are.  Your men are the
	toughest, meanest, best-trained in the world.  And I agree.  I
	made a mistake.  Should have walked across the hall to the
	Marines instead of the Army."

"Gwen, tell us about what you've been doing," Sybil interjected, tilting
her head and looking at Gwen from the corners of her eyes.

"Loafing.  Trying to keep busy.  Allen doesn't want me to work.  I read
a lot.  Write a lot of letters.  Swim in the pool.  Bowl.  Play bridge
sometimes."  She read the list off in a bored voice.

"But tell me about Allen.  Who sent you?  Do you have a message?  Is
Allen all right?"  The sudden thought of harm raced through her mind.

"He's fine.  Fine," Bob said reaching out and patting Gwen's leg.  Sybil
looked sharply at him and he retracted the lingering hand.  Gwen
appeared to pay no attention to the contact.

"But what about the message.  You said a friend ..."

"Yes."  Sybil smiled, her sensuous red lips stretching into a thin
smile.  "A good friend of ours in the Army, George Hinman, just got back
and mentioned your husband's name.  He's a helicopter pilot, and said he
lifted your husband's team.  I think he called it ..."

"Yes ... yes ..."  Gwen scooted closer to Sybil, her firm, round
buttocks barely glued to the edge of the ottoman.

"And he said he talked to him briefly.  He mentioned he had a wife in
Oceanside, told him about you ..."  Sybil paused and pressed her finger
to her lips.  Gwen blushed.  "And he said he'd send a message back.
Your husband said, to quote, keep a stiff upper lip, unquote."

"Ohhh," Gwen said, her excited tone melting to disappointment.
"Anything else?"

"No, Sybil had the four-word message right," Bob chimed in, tinkling his
empty glass.  "Say, I'll have another one of those delicious drinks, if
they're handy."

"Ah, yes.  Sure," Gwen said, rising and taking his glass from him.  She
moved toward the kitchen, her left index finger hooked in her lower lip
like a pouting child.

"You did a beautiful job of bombing the poor kid," Bob hissed, baring
his gleaming white teeth in a phony smile.

"You got your feelie, dearie," Sybil recoiled, baring her teeth into an
equally false grin.

"You're quite a bitch, Sybil," Bob replied, widening his crescent-shaped
smile.

"Careful, or I'll blow the whole thing and you'll be out of fresh meat
for a while, Bob baby."  Sybil forced her grin to widen.

"Don't kid me.  All you want is your face between her tender thighs, my
dear, vicious wife," Bob hissed, reaching across and squeezing her knee
painfully.

From the kitchen, Gwen saw the smiling couple.  Her heart sank as she
though how loving and happy they looked, smiling and touching each
other, giving support, being there in the critical times.  For a moment
she wished she were Sybil and that Bob's hand was squeezing her knee,
and that he was whispering sweet things to her.  She forced herself to
turn away and purposely dropped a spoon on the floor to alert the
lovebirds she was coming.

"Clumsy me," she smiled, trying to recapture her gay mood.  She had been
disappointed nothing more was sent to her than "keep a stiff upper."  It
might mean something to a boxer, she thought, but it didn't do a damn
thing for her.

There was no more talk of Allen or Vietnam.

Bob asked interesting questions about Gwen's background, where she went
to school, what she did, where she had worked.  They were both surprised
when Gwen told them Allen didn't want her to work.

"Why, that's criminal," Sybil said pursing her lips and shaking her
head.  "What's a poor thing like you to do?  Sit around and go crazy
looking at four walls?"

"I keep busy," Gwen lied.

	"Come on, now," Sybil said, puffing her cheeks and fluttering
	her inch-long eyelids, "tell me the truth?  You're bored stiff.
	And you cry yourself to sleep every night."

"No.  No, Really, I'm quite content."  Gwen felt embarrassed.  Sybil
knew so much, she was so mature, graceful.

Since a teen-ager, Gwen had admired women like Sybil.  Sybil was tall
and strong-looking.  She had a long, statuesque face and slender,
tapered legs.  Her breasts were very large, jutting out against the
front of her suit jacket.  Her waist nipped in and her wide, curving
hips flared out and swept in around her parenthesis-shaped buttocks.
Her lips were thick and together formed a matching pair of gull's wings,
one on top of the other.  Her nose was bold, sloping down from her
mascara-lined eyes and curving under sharply at the tip to make two
small ovals.

Her complexion was dark, ripened by the warm sun, and a faint patch of
freckles under each eye offset her hazel eyes and dark, mahogany-colored
hair.  Left alone, Gwen was sure that Sybil could live a boisterous,
complete life.  She was a commending woman, yet a sensual one.  Gwen
felt meek and underscored just looking at her.

"I tell you what," Sybil said after staring into Gwen's searching eyes.
"I'm going to demand that you come to our house for dinner.  Just the
three of us.  We can talk, have a few drinks, eat, watch television.
Have a good, pleasant time and get to know one another."

"Well ... I'd like to, but ...

"Not another word.  Now, we went out of our way to come see you, why
don't you do the same for us?"

"Thanks, but ..."

"I won't take no for an answer, Gwen," Sybil said sternly, lifting one
eyebrow haughtily.

"Well ... I suppose ... gee, we just met ..."

"I think it would do you a world of good to get out, Gwen," Bob said
fatherly.  "We don't want to force you into anything you don't want to
do.  If you'd rather not ..."

"No.  You're not forcing me.  I'd like to come.  Yes, I'll come."

"Fine," Sybil said, rising.  "Why don't you bring your overnight things
with you and plan on spending the weekend.  We live in Santa Monica,
it's quite a drive from here."

Gwen's face soured.

"All weekend?"

"Well, certainly.  You'll be exhausted when you get up there and you
certainly couldn't drive back that night.  Besides, we wouldn't think of
letting you rent a motel.  So bring your undies and things and plan on a
little vacation with us."

"I don't know."

"Think about it.  I'm sure you're a big enough girl to decide what to
do," Sybil said leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek.  "Any time
Friday.  Any time.  She said stepping to the door.

"Oh, how do I get there?" Gwen asked, feeling foolish.

"How stupid of me.  Here."  She handed her the envelope she'd been
holding.  "The directions are inside.  If you get lost, call us.  Good-
bye, Gwen.  See you Friday."

"Yes, good-bye, Gwen," Bob said as they stepped out the door.  "See
you."

"Yummy," Bob said, wheeling the car into the nearest motel.  "We have to
celebrate over this one."  He licked his lips and squeezed Sybil's leg.
"Be back in a jif."

The room was cool and a window overlooked the ocean lapping up against
the tar-blackened beach.  Surfers dotted the rally blue waters and
cormorants swooped low across the surface as Bob pressed his wife
against the wall and kissed her neck.

"I'm going to eat you alive, baby," he whispered huskily, his hand
pressing between her legs and cupping her vagina.

"While you think of that sweet little bitch we just left, right lover?"

"Right."

They laughed and he swung her up in the air and over to the bed, laying
her gently on the freshly made linen.

"I'm going to come all over their fresh sheets," he laughed, pulling his
shirt off as she poked playfully at his balls.

"How would you like to come in that little bird's mouth?"  Sybil raised
her hips and pulled her nylons off, revealing the dark, shiny tanned
legs that had drawn Bob to her the first time they met at the beach in
Monterey.

"Anywhere on her will do.  Her nose.  Her ear.  Her ass.  All virgin
holes, I bet."

Naked, he rolled over and humped Sybil's leg as she struggled to pull
her dress over her head.

"Whoa, horse.  Give me a minute."

"I can't wait, Gwen, baby.  I need your box in my mouth.  I need your
come to dribble down my jaw."

"Oh, want to play the change-identity game," Sybil said, tossing her
head and laughing.  "Okay.  I'll be you're little cherry, Gwen.  You be
my big Marine, what's-his-name."

"Allen," he said sitting up and saluting with his left hand.  "I be,
big, brave Ma-line, named Allen Farrow I have little, doll-like wife.
She squaw in America.  She need good screw by friendly neighbor to be
happy."

He laughed and pulled her panties off as she unsnapped her bra and
shrugged her shoulders, letting her ripe, full-blown breasts spill out
and sway as Bob rocked the bed.

"One serious thing before we start, eager hubby," Sybil said, the jest
erased from her voice.

"Shoot."

"Don't ever get handy with a prospect again like today."

"Handy?"

"You know damn well what I mean," she scolded.  "I saw your grubby hand
sneak out and touch her leg.  One wrong move with the wrong chick and
the whole thing could bust open."

Bob decided not to play innocent.  "All right.  All right.  I just
couldn't resist."

"Well, just don't rush things this weekend.  Let me give the cues."

"You're the boss, baby.  You're the boss."

"All right."  She licked her lips and smiled at him.  "Game time.  I'm
you're married virgin, Gwen.  And you're Allen.  Come to me, Allen."

She stretched out her long, tapered arms and caught him by the ears.

"Gwen.  Gwen," Bob said, blinking his eyes and making his lip tremble.
"I've wanted you so long.  I've thought of you every night since I
left."

"You're a bad actor," Sybil said, wrinkling her nose and squeezing his
ears.

"Come on, play the game," he bitched, placing his hands on her thighs
and pushing them apart.

"Gwen.  Gwen.  I need you, baby.  I need your box in my mouth."

He bent down and nuzzled his head between Sybil's thighs until his hair
touched her cant.  Slowly, he raised his head, letting his nose drag
across her dry slit.  He began rubbing the bridge of his nose up and
down her slot until he felt her fluids wetting his face and smelled the
hircine odor of her snatch.

"Oh, Allen, Allen," Sybil moaned in a high-pitched, faint voice that
tried to ape Gwen's.  "Stick your tongue in me.  Lick me inside and
out."

"I'm coming, baby.  The Marines have landed."

He spread the lips of her pussy apart and studied the folded creases of
her box.  He saw the red fang of her clitoris dangling like a uvula, and
licked at it gently, teasing its blood-engorged tip with the sharp edge
of his stiff tongue.

"Good, good.  Be nice.  Suck it."  Sybil squeezed his ears, digging her
fingers into the soft flesh as he flicked his lizard-like tongue again
and again at the exposed flesh-tooth.

It twitched and quivered as he banged it gently from side to side,
drawing his head back to watch it harden and wag out at him like a blind
man's cane seeking the curb of a busy street.  He licked around its
trembling, blunt end and felt its soft, cotton-like texture as his lips
puckered around it and he sucked it tenderly into his mouth, pulling on
it with his curled, tight lips.

Sybil pulled madly at his ears, nagging him to penetrate her deeply with
his tongue.  He knew she liked that.  She liked it with a man or a
woman.  She didn't care so long as the mouth satisfied her and was
gentle at first and then rougher as her passions mounted.

She was thrashing her hips now, banging her pubis against his face,
trying to break his sucking grip on her clitoris.

He spit the nub out as she whimpered and speared his tongue deep into
her hole, feeling her body quiver like Jello as he wagged the tip back
and forth against the walls of her cunny.

"Allen.  Gwen.  Bob."  She bit her lip and ran her hands down to her own
breasts, squeezing them and rolling the nipples between her fingers as
she sank into the sybaritic pleasure of her husband's practiced tongue.

Her hips lifted off the bed and she pulled her jutting tits hard as Bob
cupped her buttocks and shook his head madly between her legs, making
his tongue thrash her frothy cavern like a propeller.  He twisted the
organ this way and that, curving it into a U-shape and dragging it out
across her sensitive clit.

She panted breathlessly, her stomach heaved, sweat popped out over her
body.  Bob was caught in the bizarre sensation of satisfying her and
rocked his head rapidly, driving his stiff, probing tongue against every
inch of her soft, squishy cunt.

"Now," she cried, mashing her thighs against his ears and making his jaw
ache.  "Deep, Allen.  Deep.  Until it comes out my ass."

Bob drove his tongue in and out like a saw.  She stiffened.  Her fingers
squeezed brutally around her breasts.  Her tongue danced out of her
mouth and licked at the air.

She bucked, nearly dazing Bob as her pubis smashed against his nose.
She shook, her body shimmying as she cried out.

"Harder.  Harder.  Oh, God, harder!"

He made a final jab and she shook violently, then relaxed, her legs
falling away from his ears, her hands slipping away from her breasts,
her tongue sliding back into her mouth.

Bob grinned.  He rolled over on his side and wiped the wet, pungent
juices and pubic hairs from his mouth.  He'd wait a few minutes and then
get his.

"Tell me when you're ready, Gwen," he said, rubbing his long, stiff
pecker.

Chapter 3

Gwen looked guiltily at the small overnight bag.  She had packed and
unpacked it three times, still undecided whether or not she should spend
the night.

With a flurry, she snapped the top down.  It would be all right to spend
one night, she thought.  She didn't have to spend the whole weekend.
And besides, the roads were terrible on weekends, jammed with cars and
drunk drivers.  One night, she promised herself.  One night wouldn't
hurt.

She felt like a runaway teen-ager as she drove up Interstate Highway 5,
her scarfed hair whipping under the ballooning material as the
convertible sped past the Friday traffic.  She felt the eyes of the male
drivers staring at her when she passed them and a twinge of excitement
raced through her.  She felt free and loose and abandon.  As she had
when she slept with Allen the first time and he took her, hurting her by
squeezing her tender flesh roughly and biting her flesh with his thick,
strong teeth.  She wished he was with her now so they could pull over
the side of the road, sneak into the bushes and make love wildly, like
two heated animals.

She swerved sharply to avoid ramming a slow Buick as her thoughts
returned to the task of driving.  Her heart raced and her leg trembled
as she looked over her shoulder and saw the white, wizened face of an
elderly man hunkered against the wheel of his old sedan.

Los Angeles was jammed with cars and she sat nervously, creeping behind
the gleaming bumper of the car ahead as she moved slowly through the
late-hour traffic.

The McCusker's house was easy to find.  The map they had drawn was as
clear as if they had painted a green line to their doorstep.  She
climbed out of the car, purposely leaving her overnight bag in the
trunk.

"Gwen, glad you could make it.  Have any trouble finding the place?"
Sybil asked, standing in the doorway, a drink in her hand.

"No trouble at all," Gwen said meekly, looking down at her small, petite
feet.

"Come in, come in," Sybil said.  She took her by the arm and led her
into the spacious, sunken living room.

"Did you bring a bag?"

"Yes, it's ... in the car," Gwen said, shifting her feet and offering
her felicitous smile to Sybil.

"Didn't want to carry it in, thought the neighbors might raise their
eyebrows," Sybil joked, gently poking Gwen in the ribs.

"I guess so," Gwen said, blushing and pulling at her fingers.

"We'll get it later.  Now, sit down.  Relax.  I'll pour you a drink.
Collins all right?"  She stepped into the kitchen, leaving Gwen alone in
the opulently decorated room.

The carpet was so thick she bounced as she pressed her feet testily
against the rug.  The couch was heavy and extra long, appearing more
than eight feet in length to Gwen's scrutinizing eyes.  Pillows were
scattered in the oblong room in corners, and footstools sat waiting to
comfort tired legs before deep, black leather lounging chairs.

"Luxurious," Gwen said, running her hand over the expensive material
that covered the couch.

"Comfortable," Sybil called from the kitchen.

Sybil balanced the drinks deftly into the room and placed a sweating
glass into Gwen's small hand.  She seated herself next to Gwen and
tucked her legs beneath her like a svelte cat perching before its
domain.

"We have a quiet evening planned.  Just the three of us.  Dinner, some
records, color television if you like ... a swim ... tennis ... you name
it, Gwen."

"I don't know why you're going to all this trouble for me, but I
appreciate it."

"No trouble.  No trouble at all," Sybil said, licking at the rim of her
tall, skinny glass.  "Even Bob is looking forward to it."

Gwen searched Sybil's eyes for the curious answer to the woman's playful
tone.  She only saw Sybil's pink tongue pressing against the glass and
her long eyelashes fluttering.

They sat sated around the disheveled table.  Used forks, half-filled
wine glasses, soiled napkins, littered the table as they sat back and
drank the cognac-laced coffee.

"Well, what do you think of our hospitality?" Bob asked, lighting a Vega
cigar and hiding behind the blue cloud of smoke.

"Wonderful," Gwen said, feeling gay and heady from the coffee and wine.

"Let's adjourn to the patio."  Sybil stood and waved them up.

The air was warm and soothing as it brushed against Gwen's liquor-
tingling face.  She touched her nose and felt the numbness as she walked
slowly around the pool and looked into the pale green water with the
wavering tiled bottom.  She felt like jumping up and diving in with all
her clothes on and feeling the refreshing coolness of the water swishing
around her.

'You look like you'd like to swim," Sybil said stepping up behind her.

"Oh.  You startled me."  Gwen smiled apologetically as she turned around
and faced her hostess.

"Sorry.  Look, I've got an extra suit in case you didn't bring yours.
Why don't we all go in?"

Gwen giggled.  "How could I possibly fit into your suit, Sybil."  She
looked at the woman's protruding breasts anxiously.

"Don't worry about that.  If it's a little big, Bob won't look.  The
important thing for you to concern yourself with is relaxing.  Now come
on."

She took Gwen's arm and led her into the house.

"Bob.  We're all going swimming.  Gwen's going to wear one of my suits.
Now don't you peek."

"Of course not," Bob said, smiling and unbuttoning his shirt.  "I'll
keep my eyes closed all the time."

Gwen giggled as Sybil piloted her into the bedroom.

"I have a bikini that's a little small for me, Gwen.  It should fit you
all right."

"How bikini?"  Gwen laughed, tossing her head.

"Does it matter among friends?" Sybil looked haughtily at Gwen.

"I suppose not," Gwen said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling
on her nylon.  She looked up at Sybil's eyes and for a moment felt
uneasy as the woman scanned her extended leg and licked the bottom of
her lip.

"You get undressed.  Meet us at the pool."  Sybil smiled and left,
closing the door softly behind her.

"Ummm," Bob murmured as he peered through the hole in the wall and
watched Gwen undress.

"Let me see."  Sybil pushed him away and pressed her eye against the
wide-angle peephole bored through the bedroom wall.  Gwen was down to
her panties and bra, bending over and pulling the nylon briefs down her
supple ass.  Sybil felt an anxious throbbing in her breasts as the crack
of Gwen's ass addressed her.  She could see the beginning of her pubic
hair and the clean brown cleavage of the split widening as the young
woman bent down to pick the panties from around her dainty feet.

Sybil felt Bob press up against her and cup her breasts in his hands.
"Leave me alone while I watch," she hissed, pushing back against him.
He didn't withdraw.  He pushed his hardening pole against her ass and
wriggled forward.  Sybil breathed heavily as she saw Gwen unsnap the bra
and let her breasts swing free.  The tips were turned up and the woman's
nipples kissed at the air as she moved around the room looking for a
brush to comb her hair.

"All right.  Get ready," Sybil said, pulling herself from the wall and
pushing Bob away from her.

"Getting hot?"

"What if I am?"

"Thought we might rip off a quickie, to slow you down."

"I know how to handle things."

"Yes, you do," Bob grinned, pulling off his trousers and grabbing the
stem of his half-hard cock and wagging it at her.

"Yummy," Gwen said, popping her head out of the water.  "This is
delicious.'

Sybil swam to her side and stood in the shallow end of the pool while
Bob teetered on the edge of the diving board, clutching his sides and
shivering in mock terror of the water.

"Makes you feel like a new woman, doesn't it Gwen."

"Yes.  It's very refreshing.  Very."

Bob dived off the board, his arms forming a spear over his head as his
body arched down and plunged gracefully into the water.

"Bob's a good diver."

"Yes.  He's good at everything he does," Sybil answered, floating on her
back.

"Hey, how about some dunking, girls?"  Bob's powerful strokes glided him
up to the two women.  "Us guys have to fool around, you know."

"All right," Sybil said, winking at him and pushing his head below the
water.  "Get him, Gwen."

Laughing, Gwen hopped through the water and pushed Bob's emerging head
back down.  He reached out under water and pretended he was groping for
support.  His hand squeezed the inside of Gwen's thigh and his fingers
brushed the bikini-clad V of her crotch.

Spitting water and coughing, Bob shot up out of the water and shook his
head.

"Get Sybil, Gwen," he sputtered, lunging with a splash toward his wife.
He grabbed her and pulled her under.  Gwen was behind her and pressed
Sybil's shoulders down into the water.  Sybil awkwardly reached up and
grabbed at Gwen's midriff, clutching one of her breasts and squeezing as
she drew herself up and out of the water.

A warm, tingling sensation rippled through Gwen as the fighting
continued, as the hands groped for her body and squeezed and poked, as
the trio fought and splashed and laughed in the frothy pool.

Exhausted, they lay back and floated, Bob spitting up small streams of
the water from his mouth like a whale.

"Say, that was a blast," he said, reaching over and laying his hand on
Sybil's stomach.  "A real blast.

"Here let me help you dry off," Bob said wrapping Gwen in the beach
towel.  His hands rubbed her chilled flesh as she stood like a doll in
front of him.  She gasped as he tucked the material under her arms and
rubbed, pressing the sides of his hands against the bulging flesh of her
breasts.

"That's good, I'll get the rest," she said embarrassed and turned away
from him.  Sybil stood, pulling her bathing cap off and shaking her
hair.

"Wonderful feeling isn't it?"

"Great."

"How about another drink before we go to bed," Bob asked, water from his
suit dripping down between his legs and puddling near his feet on the
gray concrete.

"Sounds great.  How about hot toddies?"

"Brew them in a moment."

The hot fluid burned gently down Gwen's throat as she sat reclining in
the chair, one of Sybil's silk housecoats tucked around her fragile
body.

"Oh, my overnight case," she said, giggling and putting her hand to her
mouth.

"I'll get it," Bob said rising and looking for Gwen's purse.

"In the bedroom, Bob."  Gwen pointed and sat back, relaxed with her new-
found friends.

Bob paused with the keys in his hands and flicked the intercom speaker
to on above Gwen's guest bed.  Smiling, he patted the small speaker and
turned the volume up.

"Well, I'm glad you decided to spend the weekend," Sybil said as she
refilled the toddy cups.

"A night, but I really don't know about the whole weekend.  I might be
imposing."

"Certainly not," Sybil cut in.  "We planned on having you until Sunday.
Now, don't disappoint us with any reservations."

"Well ..."

"No well, it's settled.  You'll stay."

"Right," Bob called, bringing in the small case and setting it by the
bedroom door.  "We've invited some of our friends over tomorrow evening.
Thought you might enjoy a social get-together."

"That would be nice," Gwen replied, sipping the hot, cinnamon-bitter
drink.  "I feel like a turtle without its sneer.

"Well, we're going to keep it that way," Sybil said soothingly, reaching
across and patting Gwen's thigh.  "We're going to keep it that way."

*    *    *

She weaved slightly toward the bedroom after they had said their good-
nights.  Her head spun from the drinks, but she felt good, relieved of
the burden of loneliness.  It was good just to talk to people, to know
someone cared and was Interested.  They were both such nice people, she
thought.  Going out of their way just for her.  She didn't know quite
how to thank them.

Gwen slipped into the bed and pulled the sheets around her.  Her thin
nightie rubbed suggestively against her breasts as she squirmed into a
comfortable position and started to doze oil to sleep.

"Baby.  Baby.  Come here."

She sat up and listened to the metallic ring of the man's husky voice.
She looked around the darkened room.

"You have a beautiful body, Syb."

"Ummm."

The voices sounded so close, so passionate.  Gwen flicked on the bed
lamp and saw the intercom above her head.

"How do you want it tonight?"

Bob's voice was deep and masculine.  Gwen heard the rustling of clothes
and the bedsprings squeak.

"From behind.  Dog style.  Oh, Bob.  You looked so handsome in the pool.
I unwanted you right there.  But Gwen was there.  Oh Bob.  Kiss me
there.  Kiss me with your tongue."

Gwen's face reddened and she reached up to turn the volume down.

"Oh, that feels so good.  Your tongue on me, licking me there.  Oh, God,
Bob, God.  If only Gwen's husband were here to satisfy her.  I wish she
could share the wonderful feeling of a man.  Her man's tongue where
yours is.  Oh, gentle.  Deeper.  Gentle.  I can feel your tongue deep in
me.  Oh, Bob.  Lick me.  Lick me.

Gwen's breath came quickly.  She wanted to turn the volume down, but she
held her hand poised in the air, unable to touch the control knob.  She
breathed heavily, thinking about the couple in the next room, imagining
their naked bodies squirming and wriggling against each other,
visualizing Bob's head between Sybil's legs, licking and lapping at her
clitoris as his hands squeezed her breasts.  There was nothing wrong
with that between husband and wife.  It was part of love, part of the
whole aura of excitement that made lovemaking so wonderful.

Allen had taught her the arts of oral love.  He had pushed her gently
down on his penis and let her kiss him tenderly as he put his mouth of
her opening and nibbled at the hole, teasing her passion bud with the
tip of his tongue until she thought she would faint with desire.

They were wonderfully short experimental moments in their sexual life.
It seemed that he had only opened the faucet to her desires before he
shut them off and lugged his seabag and rifle off to fight a war tens of
thousands of arm-lengths away.  She had nothing but memories to satisfy
her now, nothing but the ever-fading memories of Allen teasing her to
the peak of her excitement and then plunging into her, filling her with
his staff until she thought she would burst.  Allen was a good lover.
And she tried to remember his caresses, the way he kissed and sucked on
her nipples, the way his rough hands groped boyishly for her vagina and
his fingers tickled her clitoris.

"Stick it in for me, Sybil.  Put it in and work it around.  Shove my
cock into your pussy."

The words sounded obscenely pleasant to Gwen as she sat tense and
flushed, rubbing her temples and thinking about Allen.  They had used
those words when they were excited.  They had spoken that way when the
passion raged and they were near their climaxes.  It wasn't vulgar, it
was part of making love.  Part of the wild lust that took possession of
the body and turned it into a tool of satisfaction.

"Oh, God, that feels good, Bob.  I can feel your cock slipping so far in
me.  Squeeze my tits, Bob.  Squeeze them.  Oh.  God.  Shhhh.  Don't make
the bed rock too much.  Gwen.  Oh, good.  Gwen might hear.  Be quiet.
We wouldn't want to upset her."

Unconsciously, Gwen's hands slipped down to her stomach where she began
rubbing her abdomen in slow, sensuous circles as she listened to Sybil's
panting voice directing Bob's advances.

She could hear the slapping of their flesh as they pounded into one
another and the throaty moans as each touched the prisms of pleasure
deep within the other's soul.

"Deeper, Deeper.  Fuck me.  Ream me with your tongue, Bob.  Oh, good.
God, that's good!"

"You want more.  Ask for more.  More."

"Give me, give me all you've got."

"Ummmph."

Gwen sat rigid as her fingers began to tease her clitoris, rubbing it
gently at first and then more harshly as she listened to the voices
humping and grunting.

"Sybil.  Sybil, Baby.  Take my cock in your mouth.  Suck it.  Suck it
deep and swallow.  Lick its head.  Hum."

"It's so big, Bob.  It's extra big.  You haven't been thinking about
Gwen, have you?  Bob?  Have you?"

Gwen's heart leapt.  How long had it been since she knew a man was
thinking about her, thinking about her in a sexual way?  She waited for
the answer, her body tingling, her fingers pinching lightly at her
clitoris, rolling it from side to side.

"I've thought about her.  She's very sexy, Sybil.

A man can't help but think about a woman.  But I only think, Sybil.  I
like Gwen.  I wouldn't touch her that would be a sin." "I wouldn't mind.
Not if she didn't.  I like her so much and know she needs love.  Your
kind of love, Bob.  She needs a body close to her, to love her in a
friendly way.  But, oh Bob, let's not talk about it.  The poor girl.  I
feel so sad thinking about how loneIy she must be in the next room.
Fuck me, Bob.  Fuck me until it hurts.  Fuck me for Gwen's sake.  Poor
girl."

The sounds.  They beat against her ears like the blood that pumped
heavily through her veins as she listened to the squishing and slapping
of their bodies, the moans and grunts, ecstatic cries of pleasure as the
lunges increased in speed and the bed rocked faster and faster, banging
against the wall.

She thought about what Bob had said in his passionate voice, about
thinking about her.  She spread her legs and sank her finger deeply into
her split, thinking about Bob's body on top of her, about his chest
rubbing against her nipples, about his hands cupping her buttocks and
pulling her up to meet him as he lunged down and drove her to
satisfaction.

Gwen's finger whipped in and out and she thrashed on the bed, whimpering
as the noises from the intercom became more frenzied.  She saw Sybil and
Bob above her, saying, "poor girl, poor girl," as she pumped her finger
in and out of the sloppy hole, driving it all the way to the knuckle.

She let out a scream as Sybil released hers and tears came to her eyes
as she stiffened and ground her frame around the finger, seeing flashes
of Bob's face nibbling at her body.

Trembling, her body relaxed and she felt a wave of guilt pass over her
as she slipped off into a troubled sleep.

Turn it off," Sybil whispered.

Click.

"Beautiful, Bob.  You get better at it every time."

"You're not so bad, yourself," he said, lighting a cigarette and
watching the tip glow as he sucked in a deep breath.

"That was great the way your voice trembled and you sounded so sincere,
like a little boy admitting a lie, when you said 'I wouldn't touch her,
that would be a sin.'  God, I almost croaked, Bob.  Right on the spot."

"Well, it would be a sin, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, that's the fun part."

Bob took another draw off the cigarette and blew the smoke between
Sybil's thighs.

"Everything look all right for tomorrow night?"

"She's prime."

"What time is Largo and the others coming?"

"Seven.  I'll leave at five, be back at six thirty.  That gives you an
hour and a half.  Don't rush it. We don't want to scare our bird away."

"No sireee," Bob said, snubbing the cigarette and hugging Sybil's warm
body.  "No sireee," he muttered, nipping at her breasts and rubbing her
velvet pubic hair.

Chapter 4

The heat lapped at their sun-soaked skin as the trio sat most of the
morning on the patio, sipping cool drinks and occasionally diving into
the refreshing pool.

Gwen lay in the chaise lounge, her hair spilled over her shoulders, her
eyes shaded with sunglasses, the cool, perspiring bottom of the glass
forming a wet ring on her slim tummy, one knee cocked up.

Music from the intercom wafted out into the warm afternoon air,
disappearing through the breaths of hot air that exhaled on them from
the south

"Good Lord, look at the time," Sybil exclaimed standing and looking at
her watch.

"What is it?" Gwen blinked and set her glass on the table.

"I almost forgot.  I have an appointment at five with some of my fund-
raising friends.  Look, why don't you and Bob just relax here.  I'll be
back in no time.  The catering service is bringing everything for the
party about seven.  I'll be back no sooner than then.  So don't you fuss
around, Gwen.  Leave everything to them, that's what they get paid for.
You just relax in the sun."

She smiled and waved her dark red fingernails at Gwen.  "Don't get up.
Just soak in the sun."

"Bye," Bob waved at Sybil as the woman slid into the house, her ass-
cheeks flicking up and down as she moved gracefully, her back straight,
her breasts aiming ahead, proud, full ripe.

"You're lucky," Gwen said as she saw Sybil pass through the living room
toward the front door, dressed in a smart suit with white gloves and
complementing jewelry clinging to her vivacious body

"I know," he answered, putting the magazine down and stretching.  "We
enjoy life together.  I guess that's the most important part of any
relationship, enjoying it."

He stood and stretched again, sucking in a deep breath of air and
puffing out his chest as he flexed his well-defined muscles.

He groaned and rubbed his shoulder.  "Ouch, my back aches."  He grimaced
and bent over, touching his toes and swiveling his torso in wide arcs.

"Cramp?" Gwen asked, sitting up and studying the man's youthful body.
Black, curly hair covered his chest, narrowing into a trough that
plunged into his bathing suit and, she assumed, spread out to cover his
testicles and pubic area.

"Yeah.  Too much swimming.  Guess I need a back rub."

Awkwardly, he reached around and rubbed his shoulder, grabbing a handful
of flesh and kneading it.

"Can ... can ... I help?" Gwen offered timidly, her voice unsure.

"Hey, I'd appreciate that."

She stood, the loose top of the oversized bikini sagging and revealing
the pink tops of her breasts where the sun had reddened them.

"Let's go inside, on the rug.  More comfortable, Bob grunted, grimacing
and walking ahead of her toward the house.

Gwen's heart pattered against her chest as she followed the man inside.
The blood seemed to push out against her face, making her cheeks red and
a warm glow stalk over her.

"Here's good," he said, flopping down on the rug and stretching his arms
at his sides.

Timorously, Gwen knelt beside him and placed her small hands on his
back.  The contact with his firm, warm flesh sent shivers through her.
Her hands didn't move for a moment, they just lay there resting, afraid.

"Up a bit, around the neck," he said softly, tucking his chin against
his shoulder.

She let her hands slide up around his neck and squeezed, balling the
flesh in her hands and pressing down against him with her fingers as she
moved the skin around in a circle.  Bob groaned and shifted his weight,
raising his hips slightly and moaning as her hands worked faster and
faster over the flesh and her breath came in short bursts.

She swallowed, trying to control the electric sensations that charged
through her body.  Her breasts swayed loosely in the halter as she
rocked forward, pressing her palms as hard as she could against his
knotted shoulder muscles.  Again he squirmed, raising his hips and
grinding them slightly so that his side touched her leg and pressed
against her.

Her mouth was dry and she licked at her lips.  A loud ringing filled her
ears and the blood pumped against her temples like cymbals.

"Oh, that's so good, Gwen," he moaned, pushing his shoulders up against
her hands and shifting his weight so that his side rubbed against her
thigh.

"Harder, Gwen.  Harder and faster."

His hips were moving as she rocked forward with all her weight and
massaged the dark flesh around his shoulder.

"Dig deeper.  Harder.  Make it hurt."  He murmured the words huskily,
groaning and moaning as he had the night before into the intercom.
Gwen's heart fluttered and her hands ached as she moved them deeper into
his flesh, dragging the tips of her fingers across the small circle of
skin and then flattening it out with the palm of her hand.

"Oh, God, Gwen.  You're so good.  Good."

She thought she couldn't breathe.

"B-better?" she managed, swallowing hard and hissing the words out.

"Lower.  Lower."  He commanded the words and Gwen complied, letting her
hands work down to the center of his back.

"Is that good?"

"Lower."

She moved her hands down to the small of his back and rubbed near the
top of his trunks.  She thought about last night, the noises he had made
with Sybil, what he had said about thinking about her, about the way he
had talked to his wife in the security of his bedroom.

"M-my hands are tired," she choked, wanting to pull them away and dive
into the pool to cool off.

"It still hurts, Gwen.  A little more."

She couldn't say no.  They had been so nice to her.  She had to fight
it.  She was acting silly.  Like a schoolgirl.  She was a woman.  She
was married.  She was ...

"Down my legs, Gwen.  Rub the backs of my thighs.  That feels so good."

She lifted her hands off his back and looked at the hairy thighs with
their muscles taut and tapering down to his bulging calves and leathery
feet.

"All right," she whispered, her voice shaking, her hands jittery.  She
placed her palms on the meaty back of his thigh and began rubbing.  Her
breasts swung against her arms as she bent over him, pressing her weight
down to help her soften the muscles.  The nipples felt hard and hot and
a wetness formed in the crotch of her bottoms.  She had an urge to wrap
her arms around his thighs and bury her face into his flesh, to kiss and
lick him as she had heard Sybil do the night before, to please him as
fully as she might Allen.

Slowly, he spread his legs and she could see the head of his hardening
penis sticking out the bottom of his boxer trunks.  She gasped and held
her breath, looking around the room, trying to take her mind off the
acorn-shaped instrument that grew a deep purple color as he shifted his
hips again and again.

There was nothing wrong with that, she thought, glancing down at the
snaking head compulsively.  It's a normal reaction in men.  She tried to
look away, but her fascination with the appendage drew her eyes back to
its dry, glazed, slitted head.

"Gwen?"

"Yes?"  Her hands stopped and she shook.

"Rub me?"

"Where?"  The word came out of nowhere.  Her hands clutched the inside
of his thigh.

"Up.  Where it hurts, Gwen.  God, it hurts."

"I ... I ..."

"Please, Gwen.  Please?"  His voice was husky and commanding.

She closed her eyes and slid her hand up toward the head of his cock.
The back of her hand touched it and she froze, sucking in a deep breath
and holding it.  He hunched down and raised his arm, cupping her breast
in his palm and squeezing, his head still tucked against his shoulder.

Gwen felt like fainting, but her hand opened and her fingers laced
around the staff of his penis gently at first and then harder as her
breath came in rapid pants.

The cock-head grew in her palm and she pulled it down slowly, feeling
the hard flesh grow turgid and the sticky drops of clear fluid drip
wetly into her hand.

He rubbed her breast, his fingers pulling the top of the bikini down.
His hand was hot as it touched her enflamed nipple and pulled at it.

"Bob," she mumbled, pushing the cock against the side of his thigh.

His fingers tweaked the nipple and rolled it between his fingers.  She
looked at his back and his head lying flat on the rug.  Take me, she
begged in her mind, take me quickly Bob.  Take me as you did Sybil last
night.

He jumped up suddenly and Gwen jerked her hand away.  He stared at her a
moment and then ran out into the patio and dived into the pool.  Gwen
sat on the floor, her hands empty, her jaw hanging down against her
chest, her halter baring one of her breasts.

She felt ashamed, embarrassed, alone sitting there in another woman's
house with the thought of what she had almost done weighting her mind.

"Gwen?  Gwen?"

She heard Bob's voice calling to her and stood, her heart beating
excitedly.

"Come in.  Come in the pool."

Slowly, she stood and adjusted the halter before walking out on the
patio.  Her eyes were cast down as she saw Bob's arm thrashing at the
water and his powerful strokes drawing him closer toward the deep end of
the pool.  He pulled himself up on the hot concrete side and smiled.

"I'm sorry, Gwen.  You see, you're a very attractive woman and ..."

"I'm going to leave," Gwen said, nervously pulling at her fingers.

"No, don't."  Bob pulled himself out of the water and grabbed her arms
firmly.  "Look.  There's nothing wrong.  I just got excited.  I like you
Gwen.  Sybil likes you.  Forget what happened.  Nothing happened anyway.
Look, I don't want to take advantage of you.  I know how it is for you,
your husband's away, you're a passionate woman.  Nature is that way.
Look.  Dive in.  Wash off.  Laugh.  We're going to have a good time
tonight."

"All right," she said, her lower lip sticking out, her eyes still
downcast.  He tilted her chin up and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Friends?"

"Friends," she answered, shivering at the touch of his wet lips on hers.

"Come on then.  Let's get a quick dip before Sybil comes back.  We're
going to have a great time tonight.  A great time."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into the water with
him.

*    *    *

"Sybil, I couldn't."

"Yes, and you will.  I bought it because it was made for you.  Now put
it on Gwen, and let's not hear another word about it."

Gwen held up the lounging outfit and felt the rich, heavy material slide
under her fingers.

"It's beautiful.  Beautiful!"

"Glad you like it.  Now, put it on and paint on a fresh face.  Our
guests will be here in a few minutes."

"How can I thank you for what you've done for me," Gwen said, her eyes
wide and wet with appreciation.

"I'll think of something terribly devilish," Sybil said, a smile on her
full, red lips.  "Don't you worry about it, dear."

She left the room and Gwen hurriedly slipped into the lounging outfit.
It was a perfect fit.  She kicked around the room, twirling with an
imaginary partner to an imaginary tune and then seated herself before
the vanity and began limping her eyes with make-up.

"The plot sickens," Bob said twirling the swizzle stick around the
martini pitcher.  "Win her heart and then her cunt."  He laughed
sarcastically and stabbed an olive with a toothpick.

"How was the afternoon?  As expected?"

"Down to the last syllable.  You really are a bitch, Sybil.  I wanted
that little cunt around my packer."

"You'll get it.  But it has to be done right."

"You know what you're doing I guess," Bob said lifting the glass to his
lips and tasting the freshness of the Beefeater's.

"Tonight you'll make hay," Sybil said, reaching between his legs and
squeezing his limp penis.  "Tonight."

*    *    *

Three martinis later Gwen was laughing and mingling with the guests as
fluidly as though she were the hostess.  Her hair was swirled atop her
head and she flicked her eyelashes like Sybil, closing them slowly and
squeezing them for a second before opening them and letting a
mischievous smile creep across her face.  It was a contagious sensation
of mimicking Sybil, but Gwen had no control over her actions.  She was
infatuated with the woman, and tried to copy her every movement and
gesture.  It was like being in another person's body, acting as they
acted and enjoying the freshness and allurement of the reactions she
withdrew from her admirers.

"War.  I hate it," she said, pursing her lips and sucking the olive off
the toothpick.  The couple she spoke with were both older.  The man was
graying at the sides and the woman wore too much makeup.  The powder
cracked when she smiled and the birdfeet wrinkles around her eyes
couldn't be hidden from Gwen's scrutinizing view.

"That's understandable," Martin Sievers said, brushing a piece of
dandruff from the shoulder of his jacket.  "I suppose Betty would hate
it too if I were over there."

"Oh, I don't know.  There's quite a few eligible men around to keep me
happy," she said, looking at her husband coyly over the rim of her
glass.

"Don't count on it," Gwen said boldly, shifting a hip out and resting
her hand on it.  "I haven't been asked out since Allen left."  She
tossed her head back and laughed.

"Have you tried?"  Betty Sievers arched an eyebrow and sniffed the aroma
of the martini.

"That's not the point.  If you try, then it doesn't matter.  What you do
is sit in front of the door all day and wait for someone to come in and
sweep you off your feet."

"Like the Fuller Brush man?"

"Very good," Gwen said, laughing.

"Well, I hope Allen gets home safe," George said, running his hand
through the slivers of gray streaking the sides of his hair.  "That's a
terrible war over there."

"He can take care of himself," Gwen said.  "He keeps a stiff upper lip."
She rolled the words carefully off her tongue.  Her smile faded.

"I hope so," Martin said, dipping his finger into the glass and pulling
the olive out.  "The way our policy is dragging its feet, no telling how
long it may take to end our involvement."

"Lets talk about something more pleasant," Gwen cut in.  She didn't want
to talk about war, to be labeled the war widow with everyone sour and
fawning around her like a lost child.  She felt like dancing and
laughing and getting drunk.

Bob was in the corner with another couple who had stopped in for a quick
drink before going on to the theater.  She spotted him and excused
herself.

"Bob?  Bob?"

He nodded to the couple and strolled toward her, a smile on his face,
his drink sloshing gently like small waves lapping at the cylindrical
sides of the glass.

"Yes, Gwen?"

She looped her arm in his.

"I'd like to dance.  Could you put on a record or something."

"Sure.  Sit tight.  I'll pump something smooth through the intercom."

Sybil flowed out of the kitchen, a tray of canopies in her hands.  She
proffered them around, then found a seat next to Gwen on the couch.

"Feet hurt, assistant hostess?"

"No."  She smiled at Sybil and looked admiringly at the way the woman
folded her hands in her lap and tilted her head.  She tried to ape the
posture.  "As a matter of fact, I just asked Bob to dance with me.  I
was being cornered over there ..." she nodded toward the Sievers, "and
had to find a way out."

"Well, you be careful of my lecherous husband; he's got the hands of an
octopus and the mind of a bull in mating season."

Gwen blushed.

"I'm serious," Sybil confided.  "Sometimes I don't think I'm woman
enough to satisfy his desires.  You know what I mean."  She patted
Gwen's leg and winked at her.  "I better mingle, like white wine and
caviar are supposed to."

Sybil floated toward the Sievers, her arms outstretched, her long,
smooth fingers dripping supplely from her hands.  A low, melodic tune
licked out from the speakers stationed around the walls and a moment
later Bob appeared in the hallway, beckoning Gwen to join him.

"In here," he said.  "We won't be noticed here."  He took her by the arm
and led her into a large carpeted room off the hall with only couches
and pillows lining the walls.

"We won't embarrass those who don't want to dance."

He pulled her close and moved slowly around, dipping and turning,
pulling her waist against his groin, nuzzling against her creamy smooth
neck.

"I wanted you this afternoon," he said into her ear as he felt her
breasts brushing against his chest and her hand squeezing tightly
against his back.

She said nothing, for her throat was suddenly parched.

She felt his lips brush the thin hair behind her ear and his tongue
dance lightly across her prickled skin.  She pulled him closer and
rubbed her "V" against his hardening penis.  His leg slipped between her
thighs as he slowed his movements to gentle sways.  Her lips touched his
neck and she instinctively snaked her tongue out and licked at his
flesh, pushing it down with the force of her slender organ.

"Knock.  Knock."

	Startled, she broke away and saw Sybil leaning against the
	doorway, two fresh drinks in her hands.

"I told you not to trust him, Gwen," she said narrowing her eyes.  "The
minute you think he's your friend he sneaks you into his private room."

Nervously, Gwen brushed at the front of her pants and forced a smile.

"He can dance well," she said awkwardly, stepping toward Sybil and
taking the drink held out to her.

"And other things too, the beast."  Sybil laughed and patted Bob's
stomach.  "He's quite a man.  Quite a man.  Now, come on you two.  The
other couples have left, but one interesting guest just came.  I'd like
you to meet him, Gwen.  Very entertaining."

She disappeared around the corner of the hallway.

Gwen hesitated.  "Bob, maybe I'd better leave before we do something
we'll both be sorry for."

"Don't be silly, Gwen.  Just keep people around us.  We aren't going to
do anything we'll be sorry for anyway.  Celebrate.  Relax.  Don't think
such ominous thoughts."

He squeezed her arm and nudged her out the doorway.  "Come on, now.
Sybil and her guest are waiting."

The other couples were gone.  Sybil sat on the couch talking with a man
who stood and smiled as Gwen and Bob entered.

"Hello, Bob.  And hello."

He was tall and slender, with a long face and deep brown eyes that
glimmered black in the low-lighted living room.  A trim, dark beard
manicured to a sharp, neat point below his chin offset his dark
complexion and angular nose.  His eyes were recessed deep in his head
and his brows protruded over the indentions like two ledges limned with
the bushy growth of thick, coarse eyebrows.  A gold chain dangled from
his vest pocket to the third button as he reached out and took Gwen's
hand in his.

"Gwen, I'd like you to meet Mister Loyd Largo.  Perhaps you've heard of
him.  He's quite well known around Hollywood."

"Are you the nightclub hypnotist?" she asked, her face lighting.

"In person."  His voice was deep and mellifluous.

He kissed her hand and she felt the soft, loamy consistency of his lips
linger on the back of her hand.

"And Bob, haven't seen you in a long time."  He pumped Bob's hand and
smiled, his glistening white teeth reflecting the light like aluminum
foil.

"Well, everyone sit down," Sybil interjected, tugging Largo's arm.

"Just call him Largo, Gwen, everyone does."

Gwen forgot completely what had happened moments ago and stared at the
man's mesmerizing eyes.  A candle sat on the coffee table and its
flickering flame was captured in Largo's eyes, dancing like a subdued
ballerina within the abyss of his pupils.

"Largo is an old friend, Gwen," Sybil said.  "We thought you might enjoy
some of his parlor tricks.  Excuse me, Largo, you don't mind if I call
them tricks do you?"

"Since I make my living by them, I suppose not.  Although it's always
refreshing to think of myself as an artist or a scientist ..."

"Or the devil," Bob cut in, rocking back and laughing.

"Sometimes, yes.  Even the devil."

He fixed his gaze on Gwen and she stared back at him, with awe and
compulsion.  "How about some tricks, then?"

"Certainly.  Who is willing?"

"Not me."  Sybil stabbed herself in the throat with her fingernail.
"How about you Gwen?  The last time Largo hypnotized me he turned me
into a chicken and had me squawking around the floor for an hour while
Bob took movie pictures of me eating olives off the floor."

"Will it be that bad?" Gwen said, her eyes widening.

"I promise to have you fully enjoy yourself," Largo said, his lips
barely moving as he spoke.

"I'm game."

"Good."

"What do I do?"

Deftly, Largo pulled a large crystal from his vest pocket and dangled it
over the candle flame.  It was cut with hundreds of facets and reflected
the colors of the rainbow as it wound counter-and-clockwise from the
dangling chain.

"Sit down here on the floor and watch only the crystal and listen only
to my voice and your breathing.  Concentrate fully on what I am telling
you Nothing else.  Can you do that?"

"I think so."

"Excellent.  Now, do you wish to be hypnotized?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Sit down here and relax, all your muscles, let them relax."

He motioned to Bob, who rose silently and turned the lights down,
leaving only the flickering candle flame and Largo's flowing voice to
dominate the room.

"Look deeply, Gwen.  Deeply.  Feel yourself slipping, pleasantly
slipping down into the bed of pillows.  Feathers are rising out of the
pillows, feathers all around you.  They are soft and they don't tickle.
They brush against your cheek like the satin on your blanket when you
were a child.  Remember Gwen?  Remember when the satin rubbed against
your nose and you fell asleep with your thumb in your mouth?  Satisfied.
Happy.  Remember.  See it all now.  The crib, Gwen.  See the crib.  See
the feathers fluffing up around you.  Look deeply into the crystal,
Gwen.  Everything is there.  Waiting for you to relax.  Close your eyes,
Gwen.  Sink softly into the feathers.  Watch them rise up before your
eyes like little balloons.  Watch them.  Join them.  Deep and deep down,
as far and silently as you can go.  Sink down and join the feathers,
feel them touch your body, feel them make you happy.  Secure.  Happy."

The words swam in her head as she felt herself drawn to the crystal, as
she saw the feathers rising out of the facets and lifting her with them
high above the clouds, higher than she had ever been in her life.  She
had no fear of falling as she settled and began to sink down, farther
and farther into the downy mattress the voice was describing.  Deeper
and deeper she sank, until she felt as though she were floating
underwater with the ability to breathe and see everything clearly around
her.

"She's under."

"Good."

"Tell her."

"Gwen, this is Largo.  Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"I am going to leave you now.  Sybil and Bob will speak to you.  When
they touch your nose, you will awaken.  Do you understand?"

"Yes."

	"They will tell you to remain within their control.  To do what
	they ask you.  You will do that for them because they are your
	friends, won't you?"

"Yes."

	"Also, you will perform the way they tell you in a conscious
	trance, because they are your friends.  No matter what they do,
	they do it because they love you.  They love you.  Do you
	understand?"

"Yes.  I understand."

"Never will you feel pain.  Pain is not real.  You will only feel love.
Do you understand?  Only feel love, no matter what.  Bob and Sybil love
you, is that clear?"

"Yes."

	"Good.  I must leave now.  Tell me how you will awaken."

"When Bob or Sybil touch my nose."

"Will you feel pain of any kind?"

"No, only love.  Bob and Sybil love me.  I will always feel love for
them no matter what they do."

"That is very good, Gwen.  Now, I must go."

"Thanks, Largo.  We appreciate it."

"I'll say you're welcome when I get the check, Sybil."

"Capitalist."

"We're all something, Sybil.  We're all something."

"Good-night "

"Good-night."

*    *    *

Gwen, this is Sybil.  Can you hear me?"

"I hear you Sybil.  I love you Sybil."

"Good.  I love you too.  We both love you very deeply.  We want to share
your love with us.  We want you to come into the bedroom when you
awaken, naked.  Do you understand?"

"Yes.  You want me to come into your bedroom, naked."

"Yes.  You will perfume yourself in the bathroom and then join us.  We
will be lying on the bed waiting for your body to join our bodies.  We
will make love violently.  You will want us with all your power and all
your might.  Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You will have no inhibitions with us.  You will do as we say because
you love us and we do not wish to harm you.  Every part of our body will
be beautiful to you.  Nothing will smell.  Nothing will be ugly.  Is
that clear?  Do you understand?" "Yes."

"And from this time on, whenever I reach up and touch your breast with
my hand and squeeze your nipple, you will think of us as beautiful.
Until enough time has passed.  At home you will think of us as beautiful
until you know we are beautiful.  You will think that all the time, as
long as you dream, you will dream of us as loving you until we are as
one.  Is that all clear?"

"Yes.  You will be beautiful.  I will think you are beautiful until you
are forever beautiful."

"Wonderful, Gwen.  Now listen.  I am going to touch your nose.  You will
then come into the bedroom to us and join us, loving us as you have
never loved anyone.  You will not speak of this love to anyone, not even
Allen.  Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to touch your nose now.  You will wait one minute and then
awaken."

*    *    *

Gwen rubbed her eyes and stared into the candle.  Wax puddled around the
base and the flame bent dangerously to one side as a breeze brushed
against her cheek.

Experimentally, she touched her temples and then looked around.  The
room was empty.

Slowly, she stood and walked toward the bathroom, her eyes glazed, a
warm, comforting feeling stealing over her.

She stripped off her clothes mechanically and perfumed her body with the
scents set out on the counter.  She rubbed the perfume across her
breasts and buttocks, between the cheeks of her ass, on her knees and
toes, up the slit of her vagina, under her arms.

Then, rotely, she turned the handle on the bathroom door and padded
toward Sybil and Bob's bedroom.

Chapter 5

Gwen pushed the door open and stood looking into the darkened room.  She
was back-lighted from the hallway and her hair dangled in front of her
face as she stood there waiting.

On the bed lay Bob and Sybil, naked.  Bob's hands were laced behind his
head and Sybil sat up, her arms wrapped around her knees, her breasts
hidden like two luscious secrets from Gwen's forlorn gaze.

"Turn sideways," Bob said.

Gwen turned and the light made her small, naughtily upturned breasts
silhouette against the sharp hall light.  Bob could see her stomach
rising and falling as she breathed.

"Touch your breasts," Sybil said, licking at her lower lip and leaning
forward.

Gwen brought her hands up and rested them on her mounds, feeling the
soft flesh sag slightly as the weight pulled them in against her chest.

"Squeeze them."

She circled the mounds in her hands and squeezed until they formed two
cones with only the nipples standing out in relief against the
backlight.

"Try to kiss them."

She leaned down and strained to put her mouth to each nipple.  A warm
sensation swept over her as she forced her lips to graze first one and
then the other.

"Come to us, Gwen.  Come to us and love our beautiful bodies."

Gwen released the breasts and walked toward them.  She climbed up the
foot of the bed and snuggled between them on her stomach, laying an arm
across Bob's stomach and a hand on Sybil's shoulder.

"Kiss my cock," Bob said.

Slithering down, Gwen reached for Bob's turgid cock and held the massive
staff in her hands.  She lowered her head and her hair fell off her
shoulders and dangled around his testicles as her mouth pursed and
kissed the head of his pole.

"What does it look like?" Sybil asked, her voice rimmed with
anticipation.

"It's beautiful.  It looks like a cornucopia, a beautiful cornucopia
filled with fruits and foods that I love."

"Then eat it," Sybil said hoarsely.  "Don't bite it, just chew it.  Gnaw
on it and suck it until it spits out the juice you love."

Bob shifted and pulled Gwen between his forked legs.  She clutched the
rod and drove her mouth over it, gnawing on it with her teeth and
sucking it deeply into her throat.  She gagged, but continued to suck as
Bob lunged up, driving the shaft deeper and deeper into her throat.

"Play with my nuts," he wheezed, grabbing her hair and pulling on it
like a leash as she bobbed up and down.  "Jiggle my nuts."

With the cock filling her mouth, her cheeks caved in, the air hissing
through her pinched nostrils, Gwen reached down and lifted his testicles
and began to bounce and squeeze them to the same tempo that her mouth
rapped out on his cock.

"Harder.  Squeeze them harder," Sybil chanted from the sidelines.

She mashed the two slippery sacs together and squeezed them until Bob
moaned for her to stop.

"Coward," Sybil snapped.

"She's vicious," he retorted, lunging up and driving his cock against
the back of Gwen's slurping mouth.  The meat filled her mouth and she
thought of a hot dog sliding back and forth over her tongue.  She pursed
her lips and mashed the shank nearly flat, making it scrape across her
teeth as Bob drew it back.

"God, she's hungry," he panted.

"Come in her mouth.  Come in her mouth," Sybil chanted, rocking back and
forth, rubbing her breasts against her bunched up knees.

Bob strained as he felt the warm sperm crawling up from his testicles.
He yanked Gwen down over the pole and slid her head back and forth
faster and faster until his balls seemed to boil.  Gwen's hands cupped
the sacs and pushed them against his ass, pulled them down like cows'
udders as the ejaculation grew from deep within him.

Grunting, he rolled over on his side, dragging Gwen's suctioning mouth
with him and knelt above her as she moaned and drew the head into her
greedy mouth.

"I'm coming.  I'm coming," he shouted, slapping the back of Gwen's neck
with his open hand, during her lead down deeper and deeper.

He fat the juice sprinkle up from its reservoir and shower out the head
of his throbbing, expanding cock.  It burned slightly as it pumped ounce
after ounce into her mouth.

Gwen tasted the briny thick liquid as it gushed into her throat and
thought of syrup, syrup that oozed out of the chocolate pump behind the
drug store counter.  She held as much of the come in the back of her
throat as she could, catching it on the base of her tongue, and then
swallowed, feeling the volume of the sperm gulp down her throat to her
stomach.

Bob was frozen against her, jerking his cock inside her mouth as she
sucked at the last remaining spittle of semen that leaked from the
inflamed slit of his cock-head.

"Enough," Sybil said, yanking Gwen's head back and licking at her
husband's shiny, slimy shaft.  She raved around his deflated testicles
and curled her tongue around the fleshy, softening stem, giving a final
tug of ownership to the head of his sore prick.

"You haven't come like that in months," she said sourly, looking at Gwen
who lay on her back looking happily up at her, thin strands of tacky
semen still lingering around the corners of her mouth.

"Sorry about that.  Just felt wild," Bob apologized, lying back and
sucking in barrelfuls of air.

"Gwen?  This is Sybil.  I want you to eat me now.  I want you to eat my
asshole.  I want you to ream me clean with your tongue and suck on me
with your lips while you stick your fingers up my cunt.  Will you do
that for me?  For your friend, Sybil?"

"Yes.  I love you Sybil."

"Then beg me to eat my asshole.  Let me hear you beg."  Sybil's voice
was caustic and she bared her teeth as she looked at Gwen's benign face.

"Beg!"

The room was still as they waited for Gwen to stir.  She smiled dreamily
up and moved her lips.

"Please, Sybil?  Let me lick your rectum?  Let me stick my tongue in
you?"

"Rottener.  Talk dirty, bitch!"  She swung her hand around and slapped
Gwen's face.  Gwen's smile melted and tears came to her eyes.

"Beg!"

"Your ass.  Let me lick your asshole," Gwen stammered, her eyes confused
for a moment as they attempted to clear and focus on Sybil's face.  "Let
me suck on your bunghole and draw out your shit in my mouth."

"Good.  Good," Sybil complimented.  "You are a rotten bitch under all
that phony naivete."

She turned over on her stomach and raised her buttocks up in the air.

"Spread the cheeks and begin licking, bitch."

Gwen climbed toward Sybil's wide, flaring ass.  She hesitated at the
ubiquitous mass of soft, white flesh and studied it, cocking her head
like a bird measuring a strange noise.  It looked suddenly like a giant
marshmallow to her, all puffed up with giant chocolate chip pressed into
its split middle.

"Beautiful," she cooed turning her head from one side to the other and
eyeing the mass.

"It's ugly, bitch.  Now eat it.  Suck it and play with my slot."

Gwen inched forward and licked at the split in Sybil's ass.  Again and
again her tongue expected to taste the sweet, powdery flavor of
marshmallow and each time there was only a bland, slightly salty taste
forcing itself through to her mind.

Like a dog washing its paws, she made long laps up the crevice of
Sybil's ass, feeling the roughness of the woman's skin skidding across
her tongue.

"In the asshole.  Stick your tongue in my asshole.  And your fingers in
my cunt."

Sybil looked back between her legs, past her dangling breasts that hung
down against the silk bedspread.  Her eyes were narrow and flashed
angrily at Gwen's hesitation.

"The hole.  Lick the hole."

Gwen pulled her face away and looked at the brown, puckered ring that
beat like a tiny heart in the wide, white furrow of Sybil's ass.  It
looked like the pursed, fat lips of an obese man forming an "O" before
her.

They looked like beautiful lips, the lips of a saint come to bless her
with a touch, a mere caress of the pale, necrotic tissues.  She leaned
forward and pressed her lips against the ring.  The cleavage of Sybil's
ass protected them, so Gwen pushed the marshmallow sides away,
stretching the split wide and flat.  Again she shoved her lips against
them and this time felt the warm, salty, sour taste.  She held her
pouting lips against the hole, pushing hard against the ring, expecting
it to push back against her.  It didn't respond.

She opened her mouth and nipped at the tissue, grabbing elusive bits of
it between her teeth for a moment, only to have them slip away as the
mouth throbbed in and out.

Angry at the maddening way the saint was kissing her, she opened her
mouth wide and lanced her tongue in, hoping to spear the mouth and drag
it out of the marshmallow container and make love to it by itself for
Sybil's sake.  She wanted her to love it.  She would do it, because
Sybil was her friend.

Her tongue entered the hole and she heard Sybil moan with pleasure and
grunt out obscenities as she wagged her spear-shaped tongue deep inside
the asshole and curved the tip, trying to drag the lip-ring out of the
fleshy container.

It wouldn't budge.  It only throbbed and became more elusive as Sybil
tightened and made it spasm.

"Good, that's good, Gwen, you little slut.  Now work your fingers up my
cunt.  Up my cunt."

Gwen fumbled below the ring as she sucked and licked at the asshole.
Her fingers met the warm, wet resistance of Sybil's flapping pussy and
she stuck in her middle finger, feeling the warm meat of Sybil's snatch
close around it like a bloody, soggy pot roast.

"Squeeze the clit, bitch.  The clit," Bob chimed in, crawling down and
watching the scene.  "Sybil loves to have her clit squeezed and sucked."

Bob's beautiful voice rang in Gwen's ears as she manipulated the
slippery bud inside Sybil's vagina.  She squeezed it against the wall of
her pussy and wormed in another finger as her tongue plunged into the
asshole and her lips smacked.

"I'm going to suck on Gwen's cunt," Bob said, sliding down beneath
Gwen's legs.

"D-don't squeeze her tit," Sybil panted.  "Not yet.  Not till the
bitch's through."

"All right.  AM right."

Bob wedged his head between Gwen's legs and looked up at the red slice
carved between her dark, kinky pubic hair.  His mouth watered as he saw
the lips flopping open and closed as the woman lunged against his wife's
buttocks."

He grabbed her thighs and pulled his head up so that his nose brushed
against her slit.  It was a ritual with him, dragging his nose back and
forth until the cunt-dew dripped down and filled his nostrils with the
lusty, goaty smell of a woman in heat.  He flicked his tongue out,
banging it against her clitoris and measuring the difference between
Gwen's bud and Sybil's.

Gwen's was immature, still pink from the youthful underdevelopment of
her sexual habits.  Sybil's grew long and red and was like another
tongue or finger on her body, blessed with a near-will of its own that
came to life every time he put his mouth on it.

Gwen's dangled ineptly, unsure of what to do, unsure that it belonged on
the tip of another man's tongue.  It was like a child looking in awe at
adults doing what children thought only children did.  It was an
innocent clit, a clit that could be raped again and again until it was
broken in the way he liked them, until it was prime choice selling for
hundreds of dollars a bloody ounce.

It was smaller and more round than Sybil's and it seemed to try to draw
itself back into the convent of her cunt as he licked at it.

Bob pressed his mouth against the hole and sucked until he felt the
fleshy end of the pulp enter his mouth.  It slipped out and he sucked
again, drawing it back and chewing on it, feeling the stringy texture
flatten like a rubber band and stretch inside his mouth

Gwen's heart thudded as the titillating sensations coursed through her,
making her delicate tongue and finger manipulations increase until they
were bizarre thrashings.  She smashed her fingers up Sybil's snatch as
far as they would go until she felt the tissue start to rip and Sybil
moan, whimpering and crying into the pillow her face was buried in.

Gwen's jaw ached as she held it open and stiffened her tongue to
crackling brittleness.  She reamed it in and around the slot, trying to
bite the lips and pierce them, taste the salty juice of their passion.

Bob's head rocked faster and faster as his tongue penetrated her hole,
sinking far into her womb and wagging around until she heaved forward
with such force that Sybil wailed and let out a long, shattering scream.

Cunt-juices flowed down Gwen's fingers as Sybil howled and spasmed,
rocking like a baby learning to crawl back against Gwen's rapier tongue.

Gwen stiffened as she felt Bob's tongue licking with more forcefulness.
She felt the glowing sensation ripple through her, bulge out against her
brain and make her head throb, her knees shake, her arms tremble.

"God.  Fuck!  Fuck!  Fuck me," she cried, throwing her head back and
whipping it from side to side.  She screamed as Bob bit down on her
clitoris and the juices ran from her like ice cream melting off a cone's
soggy bottom on a hot day.  Again and again she bucked until she slumped
forward on Sybil's prostrate form and closed her eyes.

*    *    *

"Up bitch.  Up."

The morning light seeped through the windows and fell against the three
naked bodies.  Sybil wormed her way from under Gwen.  Bob was snoring
with Gwen's snatch covering half his face.

"Get up, Bob."

She wriggled free and shook her husband.  His cock lay against his thigh
like a flaccid snake.

"Hummm.  What's the matter."

"Nothing is the matter.  It's just Sunday.  Now, wake up.  We have to
get her ready."

"All right," he grumbled, rubbing his neck and rolling Gwen's sleeping
form over.

"Gwen?  This is Bob.  Do you hear me?  Gwen?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Wake up, Gwen.  Wake up."

Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared at him.

"You're beautiful Bob," she said draping her arms around his neck and
pulling him to her.  She kissed him long and hard.  Sybil's snappish
voice broke the engagement.

"Well, for Christ's sake, don't make love to her now.  Get her ready."

"Look, Gwen.  I'm going to squeeze your breast and I want you to wake
up.  We will still be beautiful people and whatever we do will be
because we love you.  Do you understand?"

Bob cleared his throat and wished he had a Bloody Mary.

"Yes.  I understand."

"Good.  Now, when you wake up you will remember only how much you love
us and our group.  We are a group.  The three of us and our friends.  Do
you understand?  All our friends are beautiful people who love you as we
do."

"All your friends are beautiful people too."

"Yes, that's good.  Now, when you wake up you will do what we ask
without batting an eye.  But you will only do it with us.  No one else.
And you will only think it is good.  Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"All right.  You will wake up and no longer be in a trance.  But you
will do things with us because you love us and respect us."

"I will do things because I love and respect you."

"Right."  He squeezed her breast, twisting it to the right and left.

Gwen blinked her eyes and looked around.  For a moment Bob thought she
was going to scream.  She looked down at her nakedness and then at
Bob's.  Turning, she looked into Sybil's haunting eyes and at the bed.

"Did I???"

"What?" Sybil asked directly, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke
into Gwen's face.

"Did I seduce you?"

Yes," Sybil answered coldly, forcing a facetious smile on her face.
"You wanted us to love you, to make you happy and we agreed.  Are you
sorry?"

Gwen stroked her naked legs and felt the sticky gum-like material
clinging to the inner part of her thighs.

"No," she said mechanically.  "I love you.  You have done a lot for me."

"Are you ashamed?" Bob asked, sitting beside her and putting his arm
around her shoulder.

"No.  It's strange.  I'm not ashamed."

"You shouldn't be," Sybil said scooting off the bed.  "We shared our
love with you.  It is true love, the kind that one cannot be ashamed
of."

"I'm not," Gwen said, looking down again in awe at her exposed breasts.

"Good.  Let's take a swim then.  The three of us.  Together.  In the
pool.  And we'll make love there, in the water."

I'd like that," Gwen said, standing and following Sybil out of the
bedroom, her legs sticking together as her thighs brushed against the
rubbery juices that clung to her flesh.

The water washed away the fluids and Gwen dived to the bottom and rubbed
her skin as if she were washing.

"Oh, it's wonderful," she said standing in the shallow end, her breasts
floating buoyantly in front of her.  She lifted them and felt their
heaviness return as she arched them out of the water.  She dropped them
and they splashed under, only to rise again like two white bobbers to
the water level around her chest.

Bob swam underwater and came up in front of her, his mouth snapping
open.  He lunged and nipped at her breast, catching the nipple and
shaking it between his teeth.

Gwen screamed and laughed.

"Sharks in the water," Sybil said diving down behind her and biting at
the woman's vagina.

"Bring her to the three foot level," Sybil said, swimming down and
standing at the shallowest part of the pool.

Bob lifted Gwen up and pushed him ahead of her as if she were a
surfboard.  Sybil caught her under her arms and lifted her half-out of
the water.

"Do you have it, Bob?"

"Right here, Syb."

Bob popped up behind Gwen with the black instrument in his hand.  It was
long and sleek, the girth of a man's penis but two feet long.  A belt
hung from the middle of the shaft and a propeller was screwed onto the
opposite end.

Gwen looked at it in interest, tilting her head to one side.

"What's that?"  she asked, reaching out and touching it.  The shaft was
made of hard rubber with tiny nodes protruding like warts down the first
six inches of it.  It was warm and slick and hummed as her fingers
wrapped around the tip.

"That is a play cock," Bob boasted, taking it away from her.  "You want
to please me, don't you?"

"Yes, Bob.  What can I do?"

Her eyes looked innocently at him.  He coughed and looked at Sybil who
wore a smirk.

"Well, I love boats and people.  I made this torpedo cock.  I made it
just for you.  All you do is spread your legs as wide as you can and let
me stick this up your cunt.  Then I turn it on and you buzz around the
pool until you come."

Gwen blinked.  "Will that make you happy, Bob?"

"Very happy."

"All right.  What do I do?"

"Sybil.  Hold her."

Sybil held her arms and Bob pushed the head of the phallus against her
vagina.

"Ohhh, that hurts," Gwen said, her face contorting in pain as the blunt-
headed tool shoved roughly against her tight vagina.

"Pretend it is me; nothing will hurt you if it is me," Bob said,
wriggling the shaft into her.  She grunted and bit her lip to force back
the cry of pain.  The shaft slid up her sore pussy until it bumped
against her cervix.

"It doesn't hurt," Gwen grunted, feeling the pain seering through her.
"What do I do now?"

Sybil took the belt and strapped it around Gwen's waist.

"Keep your legs spread so the propeller won't hit you.  Then use your
arms to steer.  When you have your come, let us know.  I'll turn it
off."

He pushed a button on the back of the rubber rod and the propeller began
to Burn the water.

"Let her go, Sybil."

Sybil released her and Gwen felt herself being propelled toward the deep
end of the pool.  The rod hummed inside her and slipped slightly, in and
out, making her breath faster.  She held her arms straight in front of
her with the fingers pointed up and the palms digging a trough in the
water.

The wall of the pool loomed ahead and she tried to stop, but kept moving
ahead a few feet at a time.  Her knuckles smashed against the concrete
and she skidded along the side of the pool, her ribs scraping along the
tile.

"Good.  Very good."  She looked up and saw Bob and Sybil smiling down at
her.  Bob has his hand around Sybil's back and squeezed her breast.
Sybil held his limp cock in her hand.

"Look out.  Look out," Bob warned too late.  She banged her head against
the chrome ladder and the torpedo turned along the lengthwise side of
the pool.

Inside her vagina, the nodular ridges grazed her clitoris.  She began to
pant as the buzzing of the motor aroused her.  Her breasts burned and
she sucked in mouthfuls of air, spitting out the water that sloshed in
as her head dipped down every now and then.

She began to pump her legs as she moved around the pool, bumping into
the sides and ladders as Bob and Sybil stood on the edge, laughing and
kicking her away with their feet.

She paid no attention to the bruises, or the laughter.  She only felt
the humming and rubbing of shaft inside her as she putted along the
pool.

By pumping her legs, she helped drive the shaft deeper into her.  She
pulled her arms away from her head and rubbed her breasts, no longer
concerned with protecting her skull from ramming the side of the pool,
or hitting the ladder.

Her breasts burned and she rubbed them furiously under the water,
pulling and milking them as she bicycled her legs to accelerate the
satisfaction.

She could feel it coming.  She thrashed the water wildly with her feet,
driving the rubber shaft deeper and deeper, feeling it vibrate in and
out of her hole.

She sloshed her head back, arched her back and cried out through her
clenched teeth as she felt her muscles tighten and jerk against the
rubber-headed snake slithering inside her.

She felt the fluids draining out of her as she hissed and yanked at her
breasts until blood seeped up around her, spreading through the topaz-
colored water like ink.  She was sinking down, being dragged to the
bottom by the heady sensation of relief.  She felt something hard
against her head and the feeling of water burning into her nostrils
before everything went black.

Chapter 6

Gwen watched her husband pacing the floor.  It was the third night in a
row he had bolted up in bed screaming.  She had asked what was wrong
only once.  The words were barely out of her mouth when his hand lashed
out and knocked her back into the pillow.

"I'm sorry, baby, sorry," he said, sobbing and burying his head in her
shoulder.  The welt on the side of her face hurt, but she said nothing.
She held him close, soothing him and watching him as he nervously got to
his feet and paced the floor.

Night after night the nightmares came.  Allen was irritable and jumpy,
complaining about the four walls closing in on him, suggesting they go
away for a vacation, but never letting the idea go farther than talk.

Gwen became anxious too; anxious to tell him about her friends in Santa
Monica, about how good they were to her and what they had done for her.

After that first weekend with them, she had returned duteously every
Friday night, letting them share her body in their bizarre ways, sucking
on Sybil's vagina, licking Bob's anus, letting them humiliate her with
acts she could not imagine possible.  She wanted Allen to share in their
wonderful attentions, to bring him with her and let him taste the true
beauty of friendship.

Sometimes, when they were through with her and she was driving back to
Oceanside, she would feel strange forebodings about the events she had
been the center of.  Sometimes she would stop and have a cup of coffee
and think about the things they said to her, the pain they inflicted on
her body, and she would shiver, as she did when it was terribly cold or
she was climbing out of the warm pool into the wind.  The feelings would
pass and the chill would be replaced with a warmth that grew from love,
the love Bob and Sybil had shown her throughout the long months of
Allen's absence.

It had been five weeks since she had seen Bob and Sybil and her body
ached to feel their caresses, to sense their tongues and mouths ravaging
her body, to smell the heady odor of their genitals hovering over her
face.

"Allen?"  She flicked the bedlamp on and looked at her husband's haggard
face as he marched back and forth near the foot of the bed.

"What?" he snapped, his eyes narrowing.

"Allen, sit down, please?  Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong.  Nothing is wrong."

"You can't sleep.  You're nervous.  You smoke until you cough like you
had T.B.  Please, Allen, tell me?"

He slumped heavily on the bed, pushing his face into his hands.

"I can't, Gwen.  I can't.  I don't know myself.  I don't know why I keep
thinking about it."

"About what?"  Her voice was timid and shaky.  She still remembered the
pain when he had hit her that night, and instinctively reached up to
touch the aching bruise.

"I don't want to talk about it, Gwen.  A man has to work some things out
for himself.  Don't you understand?  Are all women bitches?  Nosy,
sniveling bitches?"

He faced her, his hands balling at his sides, his eyes burning.

"Women," he spat.  "All you think about is killing.  Vicious little
cunts attacking a man, ripping him to pieces with needling questions,
prying into his private life.  Leave me alone, Goddamnit.  Leave me
alone!"

Her hand shaking, Gwen turned the light off and waited for him to
continue his pacing.  She felt the bed sag and his hand press against
her leg.  He was mumbling something she couldn't understand as he
crawled up on top of her and mashed his mouth against hers, roughly
grating his teeth against her lip and yanking her to him.  She went limp
in his arms, feeling like a stranger as his mouth gnawed at her neck and
his hands pushed away the covers.

He grabbed her breast and twisted it until she whimpered.

"Allen, that hurts.  Allen."

"You like it though, don't you?" he snarled, scooping his hand under her
nightie and ripping the sheer material away.  The neckband caught
against her ribs and burned as it snapped.

He wedged himself between her thighs and his blunt fingers probed
restlessly at her snatch, pinching it harshly and stabbing in without
any foreplay.

"Don't be rough, Allen," she sobbed, holding onto his neck as he raised
her hips and shoved his hard penis into her.  She felt the shaft scrape
against her dry tissues and tear the opening as it forced itself into
her.

"I'm your husband, remember.  You're my wife."  His voice was low and
gruff and she shivered with fear as she felt his hands roughing up her
flesh angrily.

His teeth sank into her neck and she felt them grind the flesh until the
pain seared into her mind.  She shook and clenched her teeth as he
humped into her, thrashing his cock against the walls of her swat.  His
teeth chopped as he bit down her neck and caught her nipple in his
mouth.  He pinched the tip strongly between his teeth and pulled it up,
distending it until it felt as though it were going to rip off her
breast.

Reflexively, her legs tightened around his waist and she cried out.

"See," he hissed, letting the tit drop out of his mouth.  "You like it,
Gwen.  You're like the rest of those Oriental bitches.  Pain is good.
Isn't it?"

Gwen didn't listen as he cursed in her ear, calling her a slant-eyed
slut, a bitch, a whore and other invectives she couldn't understand
coming from her husband.  They fell out of his mouth like bad breath,
souring the lovemaking that he forced on her.

Silently, she rocked with him, hurrying the intercourse to completion.
Flashes of Bob and Sybil filtered into her mind and she saw their smirks
looking down on her, laughing.  Their faces melted from lewd grimaces to
warm smiles, apologizing for her husband's vicious assault.  She needed
them, she needed their comfort and their attention.  She needed someone.

Allen's tongue lashed bitterly inside her mouth, trying to force itself
down her throat and make her gag.  She bucked against him passionately,
trying to make him release his sperm.

He laughed as he bit her ear painfully and called her more names.  His
fingers jabbed at her anus, pushing the tissues inside her bowels and
jacking the joint deep inside her until she thought she would defecate.

"Fuck me!" he wheezed grabbing her chin in the "U" of his hand.  "Fuck
Me!"

She thrashed unwillingly against him, wriggling her hips from side to
side as she felt the warm lubrication inside her vagina begin to assist
the sliding of his cock.

"Faster.  Faster."  His anger seemed to be fading, his passion mounting.
"Oh, Gwen.  Gwen.  I love you.  Faster, dear.  Faster."

Guilt washed through Gwen's mind as her husband's eager voice mellowed
and his rapid strokes became more gentle.  Sobbing, she bucked up
against him and jerked her body from side to side, helping him release
the pent-up desire.

"Oh, Gwen.  MY Gwen," he sobbed, running his hands softly down her back,
jamming his shaft rapidly into her.

"I love you too," she sobbed, feeling her orgasm mounting.  She buried
her face in his shoulder and bit her lip, trying to hold back until she
felt him stiffen.  She tensed, unable to control the flush of fluids
that wetted her vagina and made her head whirl into the soft, fluffy
clouds of erotic fulfillment.  As she sank back to reality, she felt
Allen stiffen and his sperm jolt into her.  He shook and kissed her
passionately, his tongue madly exploring the insides of her mouth as he
began to shoot the jism into her.

Like a brick of ice cream melting, Allen began to soften in her arms,
relaxing slowly into a pile of warm, sweating flesh on top of her.

They were silent.  They lay with their heads on each other's chest,
panting and staring into the darkness of the room.

"I'm sorry," Allen said.  "I don't know what came over me."

"I'm sorry too," Gwen replied, rubbing the back of his neck and kissing
his cheek.

"For what?"

"For not being more understanding."

"Be patient, Gwen.  Everything will be all right.  I know it will.  I
know it."

"I will," she answered, staring into the darkness.  "I will."

*    *    *

Their lives seemed normal for the next three days.  Allen slept easily,
taking pills at ten each night and waking at nine in the morning.  They
talked again of a vacation to Mexico for a few weeks, but again, Allen
didn't pursue it.

Gwen had forgotten about Sybil and Bob until the mail came and she
received a note from Sybil inviting them up for the weekend.  The time
had come, she thought, to tell Allen.  He would like them.  She was
sure.

"Allen?"

"Yes?"

	He sat by the pool, his feet dangling in the water, his eyes
	staring at the shimmering surface.

	"I made some very good friends while you were away.  I'd like
	you to meet them."

"Invite them over," he said nonchalantly, watching his feet kick in the
tepid water.

"They've asked us to come up and spend the weekend with them in Santa
Monica.  I think you'll like them.  They were very good to me while you
were away."

"You didn't write about any friends."

She hesitated as he turned around and looked at her.

"Well, they were special.  I wanted you to meet them without any
preconceived ideas about them."

"All right.  I'll meet them.  But I don't think we should spend the
weekend."

"It's a terribly long drive back at night, Allen," she whined, "and they
go to so much trouble to make you feel at home."

"I said we wouldn't spend the night," he snapped, diving into the pool
and swimming underwater.

"All right.  All right," Gwen muttered watching his distorted form
skimming along the bottom.  "Don't get so bitchy."

*    *    *

"Hello, Sybil.  Yes.  This is Gwen.  We'll be up.  No.  He doesn't want
to spend the night.  But I'll pack the bags as you say and sneak them in
the car.  Yes, he's a little headstrong.  Oh, that will be nice.  Yes,
it's his favorite drink-Bombay.  Yes, a half a jigger of brandy, a
quarter jigger sweet vermouth, a garter of dry vermouth, two or three,
I'm not sure, dashes of curacao and a dash of pernod.  Yes, strained.
You'll win his heart with that one.  Me too, Sybil.  I can hardy wait.
Yes.  Till then.  'Bye."

"Who was that?"  Allen stood in the doorway rubbing the back of his wet
neck with the towel.

"Sybil.  I told her we're coming.  She said she was going to invite a
friend of hers I met once, a hypnotist---Loyd Largo."

"Rich friends."

"Just well-to-do.  And nice," Gwen said dusting the back of the phone
with her hand.  "Very nice."

Allen grunted and stepped into the bathroom.  Gwen pursed her lips.  He
was acting strange again, not himself.  Maybe the vacation would help.
Maybe Bob and Sybil would help.  She hoped so.  She didn't like Allen
very much any more.  He was turning ugly.

Chapter 7

Allen drove fast, cutting in and out of the traffic, cursing and fuming
all the way to the  suburbs of Santa Monica.

He had to force a smile when he was greeted by Sybil and Bob.

"Rather than shake your hand, I'm going to put this in it," Sybil said
at the door.  She held out a tall glass and gave it to Allen.

Surprised, he took it and tasted the refreshing liquid.

"Whoever you are, you know the way to a man's heart."

"I am Sybil and this is my husband, Bob.  And the key to your stomach is
standing right behind you."

Sybil peered over Allen's shoulder and looked at Gwen.

"There she is.  She told me the recipe over the phone."

Allen hugged Gwen.

"Good girl."

	'Hell, come in, everyone.  Don't stand out there like salesmen
	do."

Laughing, Allen stepped inside, followed by Gwen.

"Very handsome," Sybil said to Gwen as the men disappeared into the
living room.  "Quite a hunk of man."

Gwen blushed.  "Thanks."

"He looks happy too.  I thought you mentioned something about post-war
slump."

"I must have been wrong," Gwen lied.  "He seems fine."

"Good.  I've missed you deeply," Sybil said, squeezing Gwen's buttocks
and hugging her.

For a moment, Gwen blushed, embarrassed that the woman was embracing
her.  The redness in her cheeks flowed away as a warm, comforting
feeling caressed her mind.

"Thank you, Sybil.  I've missed you."  She stood on her toe tips and
kissed Sybil's warm mouth, feeling her tongue lick out and touch the
sensual woman's lips.  Again, the embarrassment ebbed back.

"Let's join the men before they shut us out of their conversation
completely.  We'll play later."

"Yes," Gwen said, a tingling feeling stirring her loins.  "Later."

"... and we patrolled the Chu Lai area, dropped in by helicopters to
LZ's ..."

"No.  No.  No." Sybil flailed her arms in the air.  "Not you two men
talking about war.  Can't have that.  Let's talk about something we
women can enjoy-sex, the theater, books, the movies."

Allen laughed and let his eyes roam over Sybil's voluptuous body.

"You know, I confess that I expected you to be a couple of old American
patriots who had sheltered my poor wife by feeding her cakes and cookies
and taking her to the zoo every weekend.  At least from the looks of you
two, she had a good time."

"We think so," Bob said, smiling at Gwen.  "We think so."

"I'm glad.  Come here, dear."  Allen pulled her down at his side and
squeezed her waist.  "She was worth coming back for, believe me."

Gwen squirmed uncomfortably, trying to smile and look pleased.  But
Allen's arm around her waist pulled possessively at her.

"Yes," he said, looking at her, a frightening glint in his gelid eyes,
"she was worth every ounce of sweat."

"Well," Sybil said, looking quizzically from Bob to Gwen.  "Let's have a
few more drinks, dinner and then a friend of ours is coming over.  Did
Gwen tell you about him?"

Allen released his grip on Gwen and she settled back against the couch,
trying to keep the smile on her face.

"Yes, a hypnotist, or something."

"And a very well known one.  Loyd Largo.  Very good.  Very good."

"I'm game," Allen said shaking his empty glass at Sybil.  She smiled at
him, letting her tongue wet her lips and her eyes narrow as she
carefully touched his hand with hers when taking the glass from him.

"I think we're all game," she said, slightly, suggestively, swishing her
well-shaped rear as she sauntered to the bar for a refill.

*    *    *

"Delicious," Allen sighed, pushing his plate into the center of the
table and sipping the last remnants of the wine in the tall, slender
glass.

"Gwen, care for some more wine?"

"No thanks.  I'm spinning now."

	She held her head for a moment and then stood, following the
	others who were collecting in the living room.

Allen sank into a soft, leather chair and closed his eyes.

"This is living."

"Part of it, anyway," Sybil said pouring him a brandy and touching his
hand again as she gave it to him.  He opened his eyes and met hers,
staring at him, her tongue rimming the top of her lip.

"You have a very attractive home and wife," Allen said to Bob.

"So do you."

"Thanks."

	Gwen sat stiffly watching the others.  She felt estranged,
	alone, excluded from the group.  It was as if Allen were now the
	center of attention, stealing it from her.

The chimes rang and Sybil excused herself.  She returned with Largo,
leading him by the hand.

"Loyd, we'd like you to meet some very good friends.  You know Gwen, of
course."

Gwen nodded and stared at the man's haunting, dark eyes.  She felt a
coldness in them and quickly turned away to pick up her drink.

"... and her husband, just back from Vietnam, Allen Farrow."

Largo pumped the man's hand and sat, taking the dank Sybil offered.

"I must apologize for just dropping in and leaving, but I only have a
few moments.  So, can we begin."

"Sure.  Sure, Largo."  Bob scooted his chair closer.  "Say, why don't
you show Allen the stiff board trick.  Look, Allen, all you have to do
is let Largo hypnotize you and then tell you to be as stiff as a board.
We put you across the chairs and sit on you, take a picture and have a
wild photo for your album.  What do you say."

"It's quite painless, Mister Farrow, I can assure you."  Largo's deep
voice rang through the room as Sybil turned the lights down and struck a
match to the candle on the coffee table.

"Come on, Allen.  You're not chicken are you?"

"Not in the least," Allen said, slipping his tie knot loose and rubbing
his hands together.

"Now, simply relax, Mister Farrow.  Let your body go limp.  Relax and
watch the crystal spinning above the flame ..."

Gwen sat back and rubbed her arms as though she were cold as she
listened to Largo's voice lulling Allen into the quiet world of the
unconscious.  She felt her own mind being lifted away and remembered the
first night, the steps she made toward Sybil and Bob's bedroom, the way
she had held her breasts and cupped them.

The sound of whips cracking snapped through her mind as she recalled
through the haze of Largo's musical voice the time Sybil had worn only
the great wide black belt, the leather boots and snapped the whip over
her head, making her grovel at her feet, licking Bob's semen off the
toes of the boots, and then eating Sybil's ass until she had an orgasm.

Her mind was confused as the words love and hate filled her memory and
made her warm one moment, cold the next.  She was swaying to the
intonations of Largo's voice, unaware of her surroundings.

"Mrs. Farrow.  Mrs. Farrow."

Largo stood above her, his dark, angular face peering into hers.

``Yes?"

She blinked and looked around.  Bob and Sybil had Allen in the corner
and were talking to him, saying things she couldn't hear.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," She rubbed her temples.  "I just got a little dizzy listening.
I'm sorry."

"Is everything you do and see here beautiful?" he asked, tilting her
chin up.

"Yes ... yes ... I think so, I think so."

"Good.  Remember that everything about Bob and Sybil is beautiful, Mrs.
Farrow.  Never forget that."

"I won't.  I won't."

He left, stepping lightly across the room on his springy legs toward
Sybil.

"I'm not sure about Mrs. Farrow," he said, concerned about the woman's
faltering answer.

"What do you mean, Largo.  Everything seems all right."

"Just an uneasy feeling.  If she starts to show any peculiar signs of
rebellion, drop your relationship immediately.  There are too many of us
involved in this to let one woman turn it all sour."

"All right.  I'll keep an eye on her.  By the way, you did a beautiful
job on Allen."

"I always do on braggarts.  They're the easiest."

"Thanks, Largo.  I'll send you the check next week."

"Fine."

Gwen watched as the tall man wheeled and left as silent as the wind
comes and goes on a warm day.

"Gwen, come here."

"Yes, Sybil?"

	The woman embraced her, planting kisses on her cheek and neck
	and lips.  Gwen started to pull away, but the warm, soothing
	feeling came to her and she pressed herself into Sybil's
	demanding arms.

"I just wanted you to know you were safe with us, dear," Sybil said,
smoothing Gwen's hair.  "And that Allen loves us too, as you do.  He
wants to join us in the bedroom, all four of us.  Together.  As we
talked about before.  Sharing each other's body, loving deeply."

Sybil kissed her again, her tongue snaking into Gwen's mouth as she
pushed the limp young woman down onto the rug.

"But I want you for myself, before the men start.  Relax, baby.  Sybil
will take care of you and Allen.  Sybil will love you."

Gwen looked up into Sybil's fiery eyes.  Her tongue licked down at
Gwen's face, lapping at her eyes and nose, sliding along Gwen's lips.

"Allen wants you to make love to me, first.  He said it would make you
ready for him.  So we can all watch and enjoy our partnership."

Sybil's voice was husky and her hands pulled Gwen's skirt up, exposing
the naked flesh of her thighs.

"Love me, Gwen.  Let yourself go.  Feel my body against yours and float
with me."

Carefully, Sybil unbuttoned the top of Gwen's dress and pushed the
material aside to expose the woman's youthful breasts.  Anxiously, she
tugged at the bra, pulling the cup down so the breast and nipple were
exposed.

"Tell me what this feels like, Gwen.  Tell me how good it feels."

Her teeth flashing, Sybil bit roughly around the mound, gnawing on the
nipple as Gwen gasped.

"It's good.  It's so good and gentle.  More, Sybil.  Love me more."

Sybil sank her fingernails around the mound and squeezed, her face
twisting and leering as she watched Gwen's raptured expression harden on
her face.

"Does that feel good?  Does it?"  she grunted.

"Oh, it's good.  It's so good."

Her hands shaking, Sybil pulled her blouse off and unsnapped her bra.
Her jutting mounds swung free, dangling over Gwen's smaller, flatter
breasts.

Inching up over her, Sybil let her breasts sway back and forth, her
nipples grazing against Gwen's.

"How is that?  How does that feel?"  She panted, her breath coming in
spurts as she looked at the woman beneath her.

Gwen's mouth opened and closed as she lolled her head and ran her hands
across Sybil's back.  Her lips quivered, her tongue slipped between her
lips and her breath hissed through leer nose.

"My pretty little bitch," Sybil cooed, dragging her fingernail down
Gwen's flushed cheek.  "My pretty little bitch."

"Yes.  Yes," Gwen mouthed, her lips forming an offered "O" as she bucked
beneath Sybil.

"Kiss me," Sybil commanded.  "Tickle my throat with your tongue.  Make
me gag."

Opening her mouth wide, Sybil met Gwen's lips and felt the girl's tongue
dive in, thrashing at the sides of her portal and stab at her tongue.
Sybil moved her head in and out, pursing her lips and sucking on the
hard tongue.  Saliva dripped from her mouth to Gwen's as she slid her
lips back and forth over the hard organ.

Her fingers felt down between Gwen's leg, slipping beneath the band of
the nylon and worming up inside her vagina.  Gwen gasped and squeezed
her legs around Sybil's waist as the woman pinched her clitoris
painfully.

"How is that?  How does it feel?"

"Oh, Sybil.  Sybil.  It's beautiful.  Beautiful."

"Beautiful?"  She clutched the slippery clit  between her thumb and
forefinger and pulled.  Gwen whimpered tears squeezing out of the
corners of her eyes.

"Y-Yes.  It's ... beautiful ... good."

Again Sybil squeezed the clit and pulled, shoving her fingernail into
the nub's side.

"Does it still feel good?  Does it?"

"Ohhh.  Yesss."  Gwen moaned and sibilated the words from between her
clenched teeth.

Sybil released her hold on the clit and drove her fingers deeply into
Gwen's snatch.  She plunged the two digits in to the second knuckle and
twisted them as a killer does extracting a knife from a victim's
ribcage.  She repeated the boring assault.

"How is that, bitch?  Is that good?"

"yes," Gwen cried, gasping and writhing, her face twisted as her body
responded to the gruesome attack.

Sybil jacked her fingers up and down the crevice, driving them in as far
as they would go.  Gwen panted and clung to her neck, crying into her
shoulder as the woman's arm flew in a blur between her legs.

"Oh, Sybil.  Finish me.  Finish me.  Make me come.  Make me come," Gwen
begged as she felt the nagging curse of the orgasm approach.

"Tell me what it's like?  Tell me about your come?"

"It's eating inside me, Sybil.  It's crawling around inside me.  It has
to get out.  It's biting at my guts, clawing me.  I've got to get it
out, it's eating me alive.  Let it out for me?  Let it out?"  Gwen's
head banged on the floor and her hips bucked up, driving Sybil's fingers
deeply into her.

"Tell me when you're almost there.  Tell me."

Gwen grunted and her face turned red as the veins stood out on her neck.
She started to stiffen, arching her hips up, pulling Sybil to her.

"It's coming out.  It's starting," she grunted.

"Good.  Good."  Sybil said, suddenly withdrawing her fingers and
slapping Gwen's face.

"No!  No!  No!"  Gwen cried as the slap stung her face and repressed the
desire stirring inside her.  "Help me!  Help me!"

Sybil slapped her again and laughed.

"Have your come, dear.  Have your come."

Frantically, Gwen tried to fondle her own vagina, but Sybil held her
arms pinned to the ground.

"Fight, bitch.  Fight."

Gwen rocked back and forth and beat the floor with her feet, but the
orgasm shrank back inside her womb, hiding somewhere deep within her to
haunt her.

"What is it like, dear?  What is it like?"

"It hurts," Gwen whimpered, starting to relax.  "It hurts."

"No, it is a good feeling.  A very good feeling.  Believe me, Gwen.
Believe me."

Gwen tossed her head and bit her lip.

"It hurts.  Let it out."

"No," Sybil smiled.  "It is nice.  Think about it.  It is nice."

"Yes," Gwen said slowly, "it feels good.  It feels good.  But ... I wish
..."

"Shhhhh.  Come now.  The men are waiting."

Mechanically, Gwen got to her feet and followed Sybil toward the
bedroom.  As she walked, Sybil threw off her blouse and bra.

"Strip," she called back over her shoulder to Gwen.

At the door to the bedroom, the two women paused and finished disrobing.

"Come in.  Come in."

Bob sat on the bed cross-legged, a drink in his hand and a smirk on his
face.  Allen stood next to him.  Both men were naked.

"In.  In."

"I see the cocks are ready to crow."

"Always ready, Sybil, you know that."  Bob shifted and made room for
Gwen.  "Sit down here, dear.  Next to your beautiful benefactor.  I want
to stick something in you for old time's sake."

She moved slowly toward him, her breasts swinging against the insides of
her arms.  Allen stared at her, his eyes rising and falling as he
surveyed her body.

"Your husband is a beautiful man, Gwen," Sybil said pushing Allen on the
bed, and fondling his penis.  Allen didn't move as the woman's hands
fluffed his pubic hair and lifted his testicles.

"Do you like that, Allen?"

"Yes."

"Do that to me, Allen."

Gwen watched, more puzzled than affronted, as Allen rolled to his side
and began toying with Sybil's pubic hair.  His fingers danced around her
slit, spreading the lips of her cant open and teasing the tongue-like
clitoris that dangled out from the red gash ...

"Lick it, Allen!  Lick my cunt!"

As Gwen watched her husband lean down and lap at the split, Bob moved
behind Gwen and pulled her close to him, squeezing her breasts and
rubbing his cock along the crack of her ass.

"I missed you, bitch.  We've spent a lot of time training you.  Getting
you ready for us.  I missed you."

As trained during the long months, Gwen reached behind her and took
Bob's cock in her small hand, jerking it up and down until she felt his
hands slip down to her cunt.  His fingers pressed at the opening and she
raised her buttocks, stabbing the head of his pole into her anus and
rocking back.  She grunted as she felt the prick enlarge its size in her
bowels.  Bob pushed up and the staff filled her to the base.  Gently, he
rocked her back and forth and peered over her shoulder, watching the
scene between Sybil and Allen.

"Lick me, stud.  Lick me.  Tell me what it tastes like."

Allen lapped at her snatch a moment, lifted his head and spoke.  "Sour.
Like vinegar.  Tangy.  Like an orange peel.  Soft.  Squishy.  Like a raw
steak."

"Good, good, Allen.  Now nibble.  Nibble on it and suck out the juices."

Sybil pushed his head down and lay back, her legs splayed wide, her
hands rubbing her tits as she looked between her breasts at Allen's
bobbing head.

"Good tongue, Bob," she moaned, shifting her hips sideways.  "Deeper.
Deeper."

"Better than mine?"  Bob asked, lifting Gwen up and letting her sink
down on his dong until he heard her cry in pain.

"Almost.  But not quite."

"Fuck her, Allen boy, fuck her now!" Bob chanted, lifting Gwen again and
pushing her so she knelt on her hands and knees, her head only inches
from where Allen lapped at Sybil.  Gwen stiffened as she looked into her
husband's face.  He was smiling, his eyes glassy, pubic hairs clinging
to his wet, mucous-lined lips as he lifted his head and stared at her.

"Hello, bitch," he growled, his eyes rolling back in his head, white
teeth flashing, nostrils flared.  "Beautiful, isn't it?"  He stuck his
finger to his lips and smacked, licking the tips.

The hold on Gwen's mind relaxed for a moment and her head swam.  She
felt suddenly ill to her stomach.  The penis rammed into her anus, the
hands mauling her breasts, the breath on her neck, the ugly odor rising
from her husband's lips made her balk back and throw out her arms,
screaming.

"No!  No!"

Bob hugged her stomach as she bucked wildly, beating back against his
ribs with her balled-up fists.

"Stop!  Stop!"

Tears rolled down her face as the pain in her bowels and the sight
before her became unbearable.  Sybil's voice cut through her screams
like a sword, slicing her foot by foot until she was nothing but a
whimpering mass of flesh buckled over, head mashed into the fluffy
bedspread.

"Beautiful, Gwen.  Everything is beautiful.  See.  Relax.  Look at your
husband.  He loves you.  We love you.  There is no pain, Gwen?  Gwen?
Listen to me!  Listen to me!"

Sybil shook her until Gwen's hysterical sobbings faded to low whines.

"Look at me!  Look at me!"

Slowly, Gwen raised her head and looked into her tormentor's smoky eyes.
Sybil's fingers dug sharply into Gwen's shoulders as the woman pulled
her up and pressed her face into her massive breasts, rocking her like a
child.

"There.  There, Gwen.  Everything is all right.  Your friends are here.
Your friends are here."

"Yes," Gwen sobbed, her chest heaving, her nose running.  "I'm sorry."

"That's all right, baby.  That's all right."

"I'm sorry.  I'm sorry."

"Are we beautiful now, Gwen?  Are we?"

"Yes.  Yes," she sobbed, pulling her head away from Sybil's breasts and
touching the woman's concerned face.  "I'm fine now.  For a minute ... I
thought ..."

"Don't think.  Don't think, Gwen."

"I won't.  I won't."

"Look Gwen.  Your husband Allen is here.  See him?"

Allen sat dumbly looking at the women embrace.  His smile still lingered
on his face.

"I'm going to ask Allen to make love to you.  I want you to let him.
He's your husband.  Bob and I are going to watch.  We're going to love
you as we watch.  Can you do that for your friends, Gwen?"

"Yes.  Anything for my friends.  Oh, I'm sorry."

"No more tears.  You lie down here and wait.  Let your husband love
you."  Gently, she pushed Gwen down on the bed.

Bob grabbed Sybil by the arm and pulled her up to him.

"Are you crazy?  She almost came out of it.  Leave well enough alone.
Let's dump them now, before it happens again."

"No," Sybil snapped.  "I've spent too much time grooming her.  It was
just traumatic for her seeing her husband with me.  Now, relax.  She's
all right.  Look at her."

Bob stared at Gwen's small-boned frame lying on the bed, her head cocked
to one side, her arms outstretched, her small breasts pressed flat
against her chest.

"I still think it's risky.  Maybe we ought to call Largo, have him go
through it again with her."

"No.  I know what I'm doing.  You just go along with the program."

"Just be careful then, Sybil.  Don't overdo it."

"Don't worry, lover."  She wrenched her arm from his grasp and leaned
against the closet, her hand pressing one of her breasts as she spoke.

"Allen?"

"Yes?"

"Your wife is here.  She is waiting for you to fuck her.  She wants to
be fucked so bad she's about to masturbate."

"No!  She can't."

"Then take her cunt in your mouth and suck on it, get it ready for the
prick."

"Yes."

Bob moved up next to Sybil.

"Slow down, for God's sake.  She just came out of one attack."

"I told you to mind your own business, goddamnit."

"This is my business.  Not yours alone."

"They're mine, you bastard.  Now leave me alone with them.  Leave me
alone or I'll hire someone to cut your cock off and stuff it in your
fucking mouth."

Bob backed away, knowing that his wife wasn't beyond doing just that.
He leaned against a dresser, folded his arms and watched.

Allen was kneeling over Gwen, making loud slurping sounds with his mouth
as he sucked on her snatch.  A pungent odor clung to the air as the
broad-shouldered man licked the cunt.

"That's good, Allen.  Now bite at it.  Feel the pubic hairs mash between
your teeth.  Pinch the meat until she screams."

Sybil's hands moved rapidly over her own breasts as she watched Allen's
jaws open and saw Gwen squirm when the man's mouth gobbled at the bun-
shaped organ.

"Harder!  Chew harder until she screams!"

Allen grunted and rooted her ass up as he growled and bit harder until
Gwen cried out, her mouth stretching tautly over her teeth, her face
twisted in pain.  Gwen's hands clutched the bedspread and balled the
material into a knot.  Her knuckles turned white as her husband's teeth
sank into her tender flesh.

"Rub your ass in her face!" Sybil whispered hoarsely.  "Turn around and
rub your filthy ass in her face.  Shove your asshole against her nose
and grind your ass.  And you, you pretty little innocent bitch, Gwen,
suck his ass.  Lick it with your nasty tongue."

Still growling like an animal and biting her snatch, Allen swiveled and
shoved his hairy crack into Gwen's face.  He sat back and pushed until
he felt her nose touch the button of his hole.  Snarling as he shook the
meat in his mouth, he sat heavily, grinding his hips.

Gwen fought to breathe, pushing up on his buttocks and gasping small
lungfuls of air.

"Use your tongue on him, bitch," Sybil's voice rang.  "Ream his
asshole."

Gwen's tongue speared out, pushing at the soft folds of flesh guarding
his rectum.  He groaned as she forced the tongue inside his rear and
wriggled it from side to side.  The pain still made her grip the
bedspread, but Sybil's haunting voice masked the desire to cry out.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Gwen?"

"Ummmhh."

"It's a wonderful feeling, having your husband do that to you.  I'm so
elated I'm going to have an orgasm watching.  It's a beautiful sight,
Gwen.  Beautiful!  "

Sybil spread her legs and squatted as she watched the two bodies playing
out her commands.  She reached down and spread her vagina lips.

"Suck it, Bob," she commanded, looking at her husband.

He moved slowly toward her, knelt and began sucking obediently at her
large, wet gash.  She panted out the rest of the instructions, massaging
her breasts until they were red and hypersensitive.

"Now, stick your tongue in her, Allen.  And make those noises.  Grunt.
That's it.  Ram your tongue in her.  You too, Gwen.  Deeper.  Deeper.
Ah, that's good.  That's beautiful.  Wonderful!"

Allen's guttural sounds rang through the room as he viciously thrust his
tongue into his wife's vagina.  Gwen's body began to vibrate under his
caress, twitching and spawning.  She felt the warm feeling overcome her
and released her hold on the bedspread.  Her hands found their way to
her breasts.  She wadded the flesh up in her hands and milked the mounds
as her tongue licked and lanced into Allen's rocking ass.

She saw the crystal sparkling before her eyes, heard Largo's voice
calling from a long distance, listened as Allen's grunts filled her mind
with an insatiable desire to scream.

It burst out of her.  She bucked up against her husband's face and cried
out as she felt the warm fluids oozing out of her and heard the
slurping, sucking sounds of Allen's hungry mouth drinking them.

"Faster.  Faster."

Sybil threw her head back, her knees trembled, her breasts ached.  She
caught a glimpse of Gwen's arms snaking around Allen's waist and
clutching him as Bob's tongue triggered the vaginal waterfall to flow.

She sank down, pressing Bob's head against the floor and watched Allen.

He was an animal, she thought.  A beast she was going to break, to mold
like clay into a massive, living, ugly phallic symbol to use whenever
she wanted him.  Instead of crying out as the orgasm ripped through her,
Sybil threw back her head and laughed.

Chapter 8

"That was a beautiful weekend," Allen said, weaving through the
southbound Sunday traffic.

"Yes.  I enjoyed it."

Gwen sat far away from Allen, her hands folded in her lap.  She felt
uneasy, edgy.

"That Sybil is really something.  A wild woman.  I'm glad you had such
good friends to take care of you."

A thin smile played on his lips as he muttered a tune and took a drag
off his cigarette.

"She told me some secrets, about how to keep you in love with me.
Pretty smart woman, that Sybil.  And nice too.  Real nice."

"Yes," Gwen answered coolly, rubbing the back of her neck.  She was sore
from her waist up.  She tried to recall what had happened, but her mind
was fuzzy.  She knew she hadn't seen much of Allen after Friday night.
Bob had kept her busy swimming and golfing and listening to party
records and ... she smiled to herself ... yes ... loving her ... yes ...
he had loved her ... and Sybil had loved Allen ... they were their
friends ...

"Sybil is really a true friend," Allen was saying as he swung out to
pass a bus.  "She really knows what's happening."

"I'm glad you liked them," Gwen said feeling more comfortable now.  "I
was sure you would."

"I am.  I can hardly wait for next weekend.  They want us to come up
again.  Guess Bob was a little mad at me for breaking his stereo,
though.  No sweat, Sybil said she'd take care of it."  He hummed that
tune again, a tune Gwen had never heard before.

"I didn't know you broke the stereo?"

"Yeah.  Sybil was showing me some tricks.  Said I should try them on you
this week.  They're great tricks.  Really great.  Only good friends
would share them, like secrets, you know.  Anyway, we were horsing
around and I knocked over the stereo.  Felt real bad about it, but Sybil
just laughed.  You notice the way she laughs.  Relaxed.  Cool.  Real
cool."

"Yes, she's a very sophisticated woman."

"Don't get jealous now, honey.  I didn't mean to cut you down."

"You didn't."

Allen laughed and turned the radio up, tapping the dashboard with his
fingers.  Gwen settled back into the seat, a gloomy feeling shrouding
her thoughts as the car sped down the highway.

*    *    *

"He's a fucking beast," Bob raved, waving his hand at the broken
furniture and smashed stereo and FM radio.  "Look what he did."

"Just sowing his oats," Sybil answered calmly, filing her nails and
studying them critically.

"Let him sow his oats in a barn then.  I tell you Sybil, if you're going
to roam around the house leading him by the cock next weekend and have
him fuck every hole in your body, I won't be here to watch."

"Your blood pressure," she said icily.  "Now calm down.  I didn't know
he was so hungry."

"Hungry.  He must be starved.  I saw him slapping the shit out of you
and all you did was laugh and egg him on.  You better be careful, that
guy's cracked something."

"Don't be silly.  You know how men are when they don't have any
inhibitions."

"I don't give a rat's ass about psychology lectures.  I just don't want
him up here again turning my house into a china closet."

"I'll be more gentle, dear.  Now, sit down.  I'll buy you a new radio.
It's my money you thrive on, anyway."

"Don't get catty, goddamnit.  Just be careful.  You might end up like
that fucking radio."

Sybil didn't look at the shattered tubes and mangled case laying in
pieces around the room.  She shut her eyes and thought of Allen's
brutal, exciting attacks.

"I'll handle Mister Allen Farrow.  You keep your hand on his wife."

She laughed again and drew the file across her nail, savoring the slight
pain it made as it scraped the fleshy side of her finger.

*    *    *

Each day became worse for Gwen.  The pain began to grow stronger,
shoving through the haze that engulfed her whenever Allen used some of
his "tricks" on her.  By Thursday she was badly bruised and her lungs
ached when she breathed.

"Here.  Let me tie you to the door.  That's a great way to do it.  Sybil
said you would love it."

"I'm tired, Allen.  Please?  Let me sleep?"

"You don't love me?"

"Yes, I love you.  But ... I don't feel well."

	"I don't care how you feel," Allen threatened.  "I need you.
	Now come here."

His strong hands clamped around her wrist, pulling her to him.

"Get on your knees and suck me then, you slut," he growled, pulling his
trousers down and pushing her head against his prick.

"Allen?  Please?  I'm so tired."

"Fuck you and your tiredness.  You're my wife.  You have to please me.
It's beautiful, pleasing me.  Now suck."

Her lips trembling, Gwen let the fleshy shank slip between her lips.
Her hand shook as she held the base and worked it slowly in, drawing
deep breaths of air through her nostrils as she felt the appendage
harden and fill her mouth.

"Gum it, like Sybil does.  Gum it."

Allen leaned back against the wall, his legs bowed, his eyes closed, a
smile on his lips.  Gwen looked up at his raptured face.  He was moaning
and hunching his pelvis forward, driving the thick, hard inches of his
dong into her.  She knew how to suck a man; Bob had taught her well,
told her it was beautiful to feel the prick come to life inside her
mouth, that it was glorious for woman to drink a man's semen, to swallow
deep and then lick the sticky residue off with her tongue.  But that
seemed so long ago, so distant.  Things had changed, things she didn't
understand.  Everything had changed.

Bob was different.  So was Sybil.  And Allen.  He couldn't leave her
alone.  She hadn't slept in two days.  Every time she tried to lie down,
he was there, on top of her, humping at her anus, sucking on her vagina,
forcing her to suck him off.  He was moving her around the house,
screwing her in difficult positions, tying her arms behind her back with
her nylons and then buggering her.  Gagging her with his handkerchief
and hitting her as he humped into her until tears rolled down her face.

He had assaulted every part of her body, leaving nothing untouched,
filling all the cavities with sperm and curses as he fought to dominate
her every conscious moment.

Even though he told her it was beautiful, it was love, the pain was
driving through, making her more and more aware that something was
wrong, that pain wasn't beautiful.  There was something else ...
something that nagged at the back of her mind and made her slip from
moments of utter horror, to moments of heavenly happiness.

"That's good," Allen moaned, pulling her hair viciously.  "You really
know how to suck a guy off.  That's it, swallow.  Deep.  Yes.  Good, you
fucking bitch.  Good.  Out-FUCKING-standing."

Gwen sucked the bulbous head down, swallowing and feeling her throat
gulp as it tried to draw the shaft into her stomach.

Allen's fingers dug into her scalp as he shoved into her, mashing his
pubic hair against her face and spewing semen down her throat.  The
acrid taste made her cough and she pushed away from him, lying on the
floor and hacking.

"Pig.  Can't even take a good blow job."  He lashed out with his foot
and kicked her in the small of the back.  The pain raced to her brain
and she cried as the tears flooded out.  She cried until she was
exhausted and sleep took her away into a dark world of soundless sights.

She felt the hands lifting her, holding her up in the air like a sack.
Gwen shook her head and fought to awaken.  As she opened her eyes, she
looked down and saw Allen's leering face.

"Hi, bitch.  I'm going to hang one on you."

Frantically, she looked around.  Allen held her over his head and was
slipping her legs and arms through two straps looped from the ceiling.
She felt the straps cut into her skin as he released his support of her
body and let her swing, her face looking at the floor, her stomach
sagging, back and forth at his eye level.

Allen rubbed his hands together and watched her with curious eyes.

"What are you doing, Allen?"  She tried to wriggle free, but Allen's
hand smacked down on her buttocks.

"Don't move, Gwen-bitch.  This is a new lovely way to fuck.  Sybil told
me to try it.  Sybil said you would like it.  We tried it before, that's
how I broke the stereo.  Now.  You just swing there, bitch, and I'll do
the work."

He moved across the room, Gwen's eyes following him, and picked up a
small black box from the corner table.  Opening it, he withdrew a black
phallus and held it up like a torch for Gwen to see.

"This is the greatest, Gwen-bitch.  Especially for my wife.  Sybil gave
it to me."

He walked toward her, squeezing the phallus and rolling it around
between his palms.  His face lit up and he licked at his lips as he
pushed Gwen's foot, making her body swing.

"You're going to like this beauty," he said, patting the head of the
phallus.  "Sybil did, and you two are good friends, right?  Right.  So I
figure what's good enough for Sybil is good enough for you.  Right?
Right."

He pushed Gwen's foot again, making her swing dangerously close to the
far wall.

"Are you ready, love?"

"Y ... Yes."  She watched the wall loom up and fade, loom up and fade.

"Ummph."

A sharp, ripping pain rocketed through her.  She felt the rubbery tip of
the rubber shaft shovel its head into her.  Allen muttered and laughed
as he pushed it farther and farther into her.

"Allen ... it hurts.  Stop."

"That doesn't hurt.  It's good.  It's good."

He laughed and shoved the tool into her as she swung back toward him.

"That hole's bleeding.  It's bleeding."  Allen's voice pitched high as
he jumped from one foot to the other and watched the red blood trickle
down to the rug.

"That feels good, doesn't it, Gwen?"  His voice was more suggestive than
soothing.

"I don't know ... I don't know."

She bit her lip and felt the pain pulsing through her body, needling her
brain with tiny, sharp stabs that came and went as Allen spoke.

"It doesn't hurt.  Sybil said it didn't hurt her.  Nothing hurts when
you love.  Nothing."

His voice was trembling with excitement.  The rubber plunger drove in
mercilessly, spreading the injured tissues until the rawness made Gwen's
head swim with a mixture of repulsion and pleasure.

"Ahhhrruggh!" Gwen spat, her head arching up as Allen stopped her
swaying motion and jack-hammered the rubber phallus into her.

"Stop.  Don't Stop.  More.  God.  Allen.  It hurts.  It's beautiful.
Allen!  Allen!  Faster!  Faster!"

"SLUT!  PIG!  ALLEY WHORE!"

He spat out the words as he bored the weapon into her and felt her body
stiffen.

Gwen frothed at the mouth, spittle falling from her lips like strands of
silver cobwebs.  She only felt the overpowering sensation of her orgasm,
brittle, beginning to break inside her womb like the ice on a frozen
river.  She felt the surface cracking, heaving as the roaring waters
shoved the ice up out of the water and tossed the massive chunks against
one another, smashing the smaller pieces to slivers.  She was in the
middle of the thundering explosion, being squashed together by the
freezing chunks as they swelled up and crunched down, gathering against
her.  The nightmare din of the breaking ice jam filled her mind.  She
let out a long, screaming howl as she felt herself being torn loose from
the midst of the broken ice and washed rapidly through the turgid water,
sweeping past the shores lined with naked figures resembling Bob and
Sybil, out to empty into a lake of white, thick, molten sperm.

Chapter 9

"Get ready."

"Oh."  Gwen rolled painfully over to her side and tried to open her
puffed eyes.  Her shoulders and back ached.  She pushed herself up on
one elbow and forced her eyes open.  Allen was throwing socks and shorts
into a small bag.

"Get your ass in gear, Gwen.  It's Friday."

"Friday?"  She tried to move her legs, but a throbbing pain in her
crotch made her stiffen.  She reached down and felt the tender, battered
flesh around her vagina.

"Yeah, Friday.  We're going up to see Sybil and Bob.  Now come on."  His
voice was restless and his hands shook as he tried to snap the suitcase
closed.

"Hurry the fuck up," he yelled, his eyes smoldering, his biceps
twitching hysterically.

"I can't move," she mumbled, closing her eyes and falling back against
the mattress.

"Get up."  Allen pulled her roughly to her feet.  Her joints felt like
they were on fire as her knees buckled and she fell against him.

"Please, Allen?  Let me sleep?"

"No.  Sybil wants us up there by six.  She's having some guests over.
Some beautiful people she told me about."

He stared at the wall, his eyes glazed, his mouth twitching.

"I don't want to go.  I want to sleep."

Grumbling, Allen lifted her and carried her to the bathroom where he sat
her in the tub and turned the shower on.  The cold water pelted her
skin, wetting her hair and trickling icily down her nose and chin.
Allen picked up a bar of soap and gruffly rubbed it over her skin and
then pushed her head under the steaming water.

"Now, get ready.  Put some make-up on and look presentable."  He clomped
out of the room, leaving her sitting limply in the cold shower.

Gwen slept most of the way to Santa Monica.  It was a restless,
discomforting sleep filled with the bitter memories of the previous
week.  She fought the thoughts, trying to think of them as beautiful,
but the throbbing aches coming from nearly every spot on her body made
the struggle difficult.

Her hair was still damp as she walked stiffly behind Allen to the
McCusker's house.  She had covered the bruises on her face and neck with
makeup, but couldn't hide them from her mind.

"Hello, handsome."

Sybil met them at the door.  She wore a see-through house-dress
revealing her smooth, tanned flesh, her dark patch of triangular pubic
hair, her long, squash-shaped breasts with their proud, protruding
nipples.  Bob skulked in the living room, not at all happy with the
visitors.

"Gwen, you look lovely, dear," Sybil lied, noticing the woman's haggard
face and her matted hair clinging to the sides of her face under her
scarf.

"Thank you," Gwen stammered, shuffling her feet and feeling
uncomfortable.

Sybil laced her arms around Allen's neck and ground herself against him
as she kissed him.

"I've missed that, Allen," she whispered.

"Me too."

Sybil broke away from Allen's tight grip and led them into the living
room.  Bob stood near the repaired stereo, a fatuous look on his face.

"Well, say hello to our lovely guests, Robert."

"Hello," Bob said, turning toward the stereo and fiddling with the
knobs.

"Hey, I see you got it fixed, old boy."  Allen marched over and slapped
Bob on the back.  "Looks as good as ever.  Sorry about that, again."

Bob grunted.

"Still a little pissed?"  Allen poked him in the ribs and laughed.

Bob wheeled away.  "Hello, Gwen."

"Hi."  She reached up and touched her tender cheek where Allen had hit
her two nights ago.

"Say, you look like you've been partying all night."

"You bet we have," Allen boasted, grabbing Sybil by the waist and
pulling her against him.  "Good friend Sybil here taught us a few tricks
that were really wild."  He pressed his slobbering mouth against Sybil's
and forced his tongue into her mouth.

"Easy, Rover," she said, pushing him away.  "Let's not rush things."

"Just happy to see everyone," he answered, slapping her hard on the
buttocks.  Bob clenched his fist and took a long draw from his drink.

"How is everything, Gwen?"  Bob spoke quietly to the disheveled-looking
woman next to him.

"Fine.  Fine."  Her voice quavered and she pulled at her fingers
nervously.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes.  Fine."

"Is every thing still beautiful."  His voice was hesitant.

Gwen's eyes flicked furtively from side to side.

"I ... yes ... I think so ... I'm glad to be here, if that's what you
mean."

Bob sighed and sat back.  "You remember what happened last time you were
here?"

She shook her head, trying to recall a particular incident.  "No.  Just
that we loved each other, as we	l always do."

"That's right."

"How's the golf game?"  She didn't care about the answer, she just
wanted to rid herself of the loud buzzing in her mind, to wash away the
detached sensation that overcame her as she watched Allen and Sybil
pawing each other across the room.

"Not bad.  Has Allen been loving you?"

She lowered her head and looked at her chipped fingernails.  "Yes."

"Did it hurt, when he loved you?"

She bit her lip and looked at Allen's hands as they cupped Sybil's
blossoming buttocks.

"No.  I love him.  When you love, nothing hurts."  The words came out
automatically.  They weren't true, but she couldn't say that he had hurt
her, that she remembered the pain and soreness, the curses and the
interminable attacks Allen had made upon her the past week.

"That's good," Bob said, sinking back and crossing his legs.  "It's
important, very important, that you only feel love-nothing else."

"I understand."  But she didn't.  She didn't understand why she was
saying the things she had said.  She didn't understand why Sybil was
fawning over Allen's penis and laughing as he pinched her breasts and
made her squeal.  She didn't understand why Bob sat like a lamp, not
looking at his wife with another man.

"We have some interesting guests coming over this evening," Sybil said,
pulling Allen to the couch by his penis.  His hand was cupped between
her legs, fondling her vagina through the wide fishnet material.  "I
think you'll all enjoy them, especially you, Gwen.  I invited them
especially for you."

Her wide mouth curved into a mischievous smile.

"Right, Robert?"

Bob didn't say anything.  He glared up at Sybil and felt like lashing
out at her with his fist, beating her against the wall until she was
bloody.  But he didn't, for he knew that's what she wanted.  She would
enjoy every smash of his fist against her, cry in ecstasy as his
knuckles crunched into her face.  No, it was better to let someone else
do it.  It was better to keep his distance and only watch.  For he knew
his wife was as vicious as the men she chose to mate with, and that she
always won in the long run ... always.

*    *    *

Allen was drunk, running around the house chasing Sybil, telling crude
jokes to the couples who had come a half-hour ago.

The guests seemed to be watching Allen as if he were a phenomenon
captured suddenly in their laboratory.  Occasionally, they looked at
Gwen and tried to engage her in nonsensical chatter, but she was elusive
and quiet, watching, as the others were, her husband's infantile antics
as he played the role of the party buffoon.

Allen had no inhibitions.  He jumped around the room mimicking a frog
and telling the onlookers how he raped a poor unsuspecting princess who
thought he was a prince in disguise.  They laughed, encouraging him to
play more ludicrous roles.

Bob sat disconcerted in the corner, looking more at the liquor in his
glass and at Gwen, than at the jester and his court.

"Come on now, everybody, it's time for the main event," Sybil called,
waving at the guests to press close around her.  "Gwen?  Come on, Gwen."

Her joints creaking, Gwen stood and joined the group.  She felt the eyes
staring at her, roving over her thin body.  She saw the tongues lick out
and slide across the lips.  She saw the hands opening and closing,
opening and closing.

"These are my friends, Gwen.  They want to help love you as we have."
Sybil paused and reached behind her, grabbing Allen's penis and
squeezing it as she watched Gwen's expression.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes.  I think so."  She pulled at her fingers.

She could hear the heavy-set man next to her breathing coarsely.  A
thin, rail of a woman with bony, birdlike hands pressed her finger
against her hollow cheek and stared at Gwen through dark, blemished
eyes.

"These are all beautiful people, too, Gwen."  Sybil's hand swept around
in a circle.  "They love you.  I asked them to, for me."

"That was nice of you."

"I did it because I love you, baby," Sybil said, pursing her lips and
laying a hand on Gwen's shoulder.  "Now.  I want you to let these
wonderful people undress you and then love you.  Just shut your eyes and
enjoy their love, Gwen.  It is a deep love, as ours is."

Sybil's cat-and-mouse smile skidded across her face.

"I won't be here with you, Gwen.  Your husband and I are going to enjoy
our love together in the bedroom.  You don't need me here.  Just
remember that these people love you, they want you very deeply to love
them.  Will you do that for me?"

"Yes."

"Good."  Sybil pulled her close and kissed her, rubbing her hands up and
down Gwen's back.

"Come on, bitch," Allen interrupted, pulling Sybil away.

"I'll see you later, Gwen.  Have a good time."

Sybil shrank away.

As instructed, Gwen closed her eyes.  First, there was one hand and then
another and another.  They pulled at her clothes, ripping them off her
confused body.  She stood naked, her eyes pinched shut, trying to think
of things wonderful, beautiful.  But she only saw the red, botched
images of her eyelids.

Hands gripped her breasts and thighs and she felt herself being lifted
and carried through the air.  Voices laughed beneath her, hands probed
at her vagina and mouth.  She felt the skinny, tough fingers of the
woman she had noticed pry her lips apart and push the shaft into her
mouth.

"Suck!"

She began to milk the finger, tugging on it with her vacuuming mouth.
It tasted bitter and its fingernail scraped against the roof of her
mouth.

"On the bed.  Put her down in the middle."

The soft bed met her body and she pressed down, feeling its comforting
warmth against her flesh.  She was so tired, so tired.  She wanted to
sleep.

"Jack her legs up.  Over her head."

The hands pulled her legs up, stretching the kinked muscles until she
felt her knees rub against her ears.  She started to cry out, but
stopped as the words love and wonderful filtered back into her mind.

"George.  Get on her stomach and suck her cunt.  Linda, sit on her face
and make her tongue your swat.  We'll fuck every hole in her body."

It was as if she were dreaming.  Her body was squashed and kneaded.
Flesh scraped against chest.  Hands, rough, careless, cruel hands,
pulled at her breasts.  Fingers pried at her vagina.  Her mouth was
smothered by a rancid-smelling mass of coarse, hairy flesh.  A restless
tongue licked inside her painful, raw vagina.  A breast shoved against
her ear.  Urine burned into her mouth and made her cough and choke.

A searing bolt of pain made her shake as she felt the cheeks of her ass
spread and a blunt, hot instrument enter her rectum.  She tried to
straighten her legs, but the hands held them securely, the voices
laughed.

"A hot candle up her ass, you've got to be shitting me?"

"Quick, take a picture, this is too good to miss."

"Perverts."

"Yeah, look who's talking?"

"Hey, move a little to the right, I can't get your face in.  There.
Shove the candle in a little more.  Good.  Good."

A light flashed.  The voices laughed.

"How was it?"

"Wait a minute.  Just a minute."

The fingers burrowed into her as the time passed, the mouth licked at
her cunt.  The candle shoved in and out of her ass.

"Hey, the exposure was off.  Light it again and get it hot."

She felt the candle being pulled out of her bowels, heard a match strike
and then the searing pain again as the molten tip was pushed into her.

A trickle of urine leaked into her mouth, tasting wane and salty and
burning down her throat as she gulped, trying to keep from choking
again.

"You guys are so funny you're making me piss."

"How'd it come out?"

"Good.  It's a good one."

"My turn.  I want one too."

The weight on her face disappeared as the woman above her climbed off.
She started to open her eyes, but another crushing weight mashed down
against her face.

"Lick my asshole, bitch!"

Gwen gasped for air, trying to free her arms to push the smothering
flesh away from her nose.  The man above her shifted and she quickly
sucked in a breath of air.

"Lick it, bitch."

She felt the brutal hands twist her nipples and instinctively licked out
at the orifice shoved against her mouth.  She felt tiny balls of crusty
gunk grit along the sides of her tongue as she poked her tongue into the
portal.

"Hey, Sybil trained this one good.  She knows what she's doing."

Gwen's tongue wriggled this way and that, punching at the puckered flesh
with every ounce of training Sybil had pounded into her head.  It was as
if this were the test of her abilities, the true manifestation of her
love for Bob and Sybil.  Yes, that's what it was, she thought.  These
were friends of Sybil's, loyal friends, and Sybil wanted to test her.
That's why she had gone away with Allen.  That's why these people were
so interested in her, because they loved Sybil too.  Yes.  Yes.

The thoughts hammered into Gwen's mind and the pain disappeared
completely.  She had her second wind, she had her love.

Wrenching her arms free with a sudden burst of strength, she reached up
and clutched the man's pudgy rolls of fat around his waist.  Pulling
down, she forced his ass cheeks to spread and wormed her tongue in
deeper and deeper.  A cock flopped against her nose as she grunted,
shoving him up and yanking him down.

"She's a real tiger.  Look at her."

"Man, to hell with the candle.  I'm getting on her face next."

They were proud of her, she thought, they were all very proud of her.
They were going to tell Sybil how good and loving she was, they were
going to rave about her and make Sybil love her even more than she
already did.  Yes.  Yes.

Gwen slid her hands down from the man's waist and captured his short,
stiff penis that bounced against her face.  Pressing her palms together,
she began stripping it, smashing the heels of her hands against his
groin as she jacked him off furiously.

"Oh, God!  God!  Look at the bitch go!  Look at her!"

Faster and harder her hands slid over the cock.  Her tongue beat a
bizarre rhythm inside the man's anus, making his flesh quiver against
her face.  She could hear him panting and gasping as he shifted and slid
over her face, helping to drive her tongue deeper.

A cock slid into her exposed cunt as she worked the man's ass clean.
Another cock snaked into her ass.  A tit pressed against one ear, a
finger into the other.  She was filled, filled with the love that Sybil
had brought her tonight.  She was sharing everything she knew, offering
it to people she couldn't see, people she could only imagine.  But that
didn't matter.  Love mattered.  Love didn't need a face or a figure, it
only needed flesh, the cool, hot, slippery, dry, quivering, still
sensation of flesh against flesh to be love.

Her guts burned and her head ached, but she paid the pain no heed.  She
snapped her cunt muscles tight and wriggled her hips, settling the cocks
deep into her eager, hungry body.

Her orgasm was building, filling inside her as the flesh bars and tits
were stuffing themselves in her every crevice.

She curled her tongue and dragged it out the man's anus, plunging it
rapidly back in and repeating the process until she heard him squeal.

Her hands flew over his cock, squeezing it so tightly she could feel her
hands touching one another as she pumped the tiny rod.  It was coming.
It was erupting.  It was more powerful than any orgasm she had ever had.
It rolled inside her, bursting first in her stomach and lungs, showering
sparks out to the tip of her tongue, to the marble-hard nipples of her
breasts.

She felt it.  Her hands whipped over the cock and the sperm splattered
out onto her face, dripping down into her eyes, her hair, rolling down
the sides of her head, collecting in her ears.

The man s come made her hands slick as she slid them relentlessly over
the little pole and licked madly into his ass.

"I came!  I came!" he wheezed.

Simultaneously, Gwen stiffened.  Her tongue hardened inside his ass.
The cocks jerked out their jism inside her vagina and asshole.  Her body
began to shake, trembling and spasming as she spat thick streams of
saliva into the man's pulsating hole.

"Uggghhh!"

"Ahhhhh!"

"Shheeeiitt!"

The screams filled the room, drowning Gwen in a sybaritic pool of
writhing, teeming human lust that carried her away into the festucine
fog she interpreted as love.

*    *    *

"Bitch!  Rotten filthy cunt!"

Sybil screamed and thrust out her breast as Allen thrashed her welted
flesh again and again with the wide leather belt.

"You slimy, no good Viet Cong bitch!"

Again the belt lashed down, stinging and cutting sharply along the side
of Sybil's massive tit.

"Enough," she whimpered, falling to the floor and kissing Allen's feet.
"Enough, my love."

"No.  No!"  Allen's eyes were mad, glinting insanely against the harsh
red light that filled Sybil's bedroom in a bloody glow.

The belt hissed through the air and smacked Sybil's buttocks, the tip
curling up and slicing across her cunt.

"Stop, Allen!"  she cried.  "I command you to stop.  I am your love.
You must do as I say."

"No.  No!  You're a rotten Viet Cong cunt!"

He dropped the belt and began slapping her face, knocking her from one
side of the room to the other.

"Bob!  Bob!  Help!"

She covered her head with her arms and warded off the stinging blows.

Bob rushed through the door and dived through the air, catching Allen
off guard and slamming against the wall.  His head hit the corner of the
bed and he slumped to the floor.

Bob raised his fist to smash the man when Sybil yelled at him.

"Don't hit him, Bob.  Don't hit him."

Holding her bruised arm, she clambered to her unsteady feet.

"It was my fault, now leave him alone."

"I'll kill him, Sybil.  I'll kill him!"

"Don't be melodramatic.  Get away."  Wincing in pain, she pulled at his
shoulder until he fell back, his chest heaving, his fists balled at his
sides.

"You were a good husband, now go on back to your booze."

"You've got to stop this now, Sybil.  First the girl and now this guy.
It's getting out of hand."

Sybil whirled around, her teeth flashing orange as the passionate red
light in the room mixed with their creamy whiteness.

"I'm running the show, you're the curtain man.  I call the shots.  Now,
I say get out of here.  GET OUT!"

"You're going to be sorry, Sybil.  I warn you.  These people are
cracking like a couple of dry twigs.  You better leave them alone, now,
before it's too late."

"OUT!"

She picked up the small lamp and threw it at him.  It splattered against
the wall.

"All right, Sybil.  But we're not through talking about this.  Not yet.
I'm calling Largo."

"Bastard," she hissed.  "Bastard."

Chapter 10

"That was the bum's rush if you ask me," Allen grumbled, rubbing the
knot on his head as he headed through the early morning traffic toward
Oceanside.

"I can't understand it, either," Gwen said watching the white, mushroom-
shaped buttons lighting up ahead, forming a long, dotted white line
through the darkness.

"I don't know what they put in those drinks, but it feels like somebody
clouted me a good one.  Probably that Bob.  He's a sneaky-looking
bastard."

Gwen sat up and looked puzzled at her husband.  "But I thought you loved
Bob?  Like you do Sybil?"

"He was mean to me tonight.  Sybil told me he was mean to me.  She said
he didn't love me anymore.  She said I shouldn't love him."

Allen's hands clenched the gnarled steering wheel tightly.

"I hate Bob.  I hate him."

The paradox bothered Gwen.  She sat back, her finger hooked in her
mouth, and thought about the evening.  She had done everything possible
to please Sybil, to love her friends so Sybil would be proud.  But Sybil
hadn't said a word to her.  She had screamed at Bob when Bob told them
to leave, not to come back, and then stomped off without saying a word.

"I wanted so much for Sybil to be happy with me, too," Gwen said, tears
in her eyes.  "I don't know what I did wrong.  I was good to them.  I
loved them as much as I could."

"Sybil loves you.  She does.  She loves me.  She told me she loved you
very much."  Allen was lying, but that's what Sybil had told him.  She
told him Gwen didn't love him, that Gwen was a rotten whore who had
slept with Bob while he was away.  Allen had wanted to get Gwen then and
beat her, but Sybil had stopped him, telling him he should be more
clever.  He should wait until next weekend when they could get both of
them, Gwen and Bob.  They would make it look like an accident in the
swimming pool.  No one would suspect.  And then they could live
together, enjoying each other's body as they had that night.  He had
wanted to kill Bob when he ordered them to leave and not come back, but
Sybil had shaken her head no.  He decided to wait.  To wait a week and
prepare his wife, his slutty wife for the sacrifice.

*    *    *

Allen didn't touch Gwen for two nights.  On the third evening he sat, a
smile on his face, watching her undress for bed.  The bruises had faded
and she felt relaxed.  Her breasts pouted out against the diaphanous
nightgown as she walked seductively in front of Allen, hoping he would
take her in his arms and make love to her.

"Tired?"  she said, cocking her head and fluttering her eyes, attempting
to emulate Sybil's come-on look.

"No," he replied, staring at her rose-colored nipples touching lightly
against the sheer material.  "No, as a matter of fact, I thought we'd
have a little party."

Gwen's eyes brightened.

"Yes, some wine and snacks.  Just the two of us.  We can dance and kiss
and then ..."

"Good," Allen said, standing and putting his coat on.  "I'll go get
something to drink."

"We have wine here.  Don't go.  I'll make something nice for us."

"No," he snapped.  "I want this to be done right.  I'll be back in a
minute."

Gwen sat for a moment looking at the closed door.  She thought about the
odd look Allen had given her, then rose, wiping the thought from her
mind?  and prepared snacks.  She placed her lace tablecloth over the
table and lit two candles.  Sitting back in the leather recliner, she
shifted her breasts so that one was half-exposed and crossed her legs so
the nightgown was hiked up to mid-thigh.  Then, she settled back to wait
for her husband to seduce her.

She must have napped, for she awoke with a startle and looked around,
terrified.  She started to scream, but her cry was muffled by a
leathery, greasy hand.

"Scream and I'll cut your throat, lady."

Slowly, the rough hand slid off her mouth.

Three men stood above her, nylon stockings pulled over their heads,
distorting their faces, mashing their noses and lips against their face,
pulling their ears down and squashing them against their cheeks.

Their clothes were ratty and smelly.  The scent of cheap wine wafted
through the room.  Gwen clutched her breasts and shivered.

"Someone told us you were a pretty good fuck, lady.  So we decided to
try you out."

"Please ... go away ... my husband is coming home ... he'll kill you
..."

"So, we'll kill him back."  They laughed, their hideously distorted
faces jerking back as they howled.

"Get up real slow and walk into the bedroom, lady.  Don't try to scream.
Just relax enjoy it."

A rough hand prodded her and she rose, looking at the mashed faces
beneath the nylons.  She stumbled ahead of them, flicking on the light
when she entered the room.

"On the bed."

"Please, don't.  I'll give you money.  All the money I've got in the
house."

"We don't want money, lady.  We want skin."  She looked at the lanky man
who spoke.  His hands slipped down to the front of his trousers and
rubbed the bulge of his stiffening prick.

"On the bed."

A hand pushed her down and she fell, her hair akimbo around her naked
neck, the nightgown exposing her trembling thigh.  Horrified, she
watched as the skinny man unzipped his pants and pulled out a thin,
dirt-blackened penis.  Thick, pus-colored slime oozed around the head of
his swollen penis as he peeled back the loose foreskin.

"Pretty, ain't it?"

Gwen scooted up to the head of the bed and pulled her nightgown down.

"Ain't no good being coy with us, lady.  We're going to see and touch
everything you own, anyway."  The others followed his lead, unzipping
their trousers and pulling out their penises.

"Don't ... don't," Gwen begged.

"It ain't gonna hurt, lady.  In fact, it's gonna feel real good.  Real
good as soon as we get it in.  You just lay your pretty little head back
and enjoy it."

He stepped forward and pulled her nightgown up to her waist.

"Say, now, that's a fine-looking pussy you got there lady.  Real fine
looking.  I bet that's gonna taste real good."

"My husband is coming home soon.  Really.  I was waiting for him.  He's
an ax-Marine.  He'll kill you.  Believe me.  Believe me."

"We ain't afraid, lady.  We ain't afraid of nothing."

His hand reached out and yanked at the top of the nightgown, ripping it
and exposing Gwen's soft, smooth breasts.  Her chest rose and fell
rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.

"Please?"  she whined, feeling the despair of submission overcoming her.
"Please don't."

"We got to, lady.  We got to."

She shut her eyes as the man bent over and placed his wet, thin mouth on
her breast.  His teeth sank into the edges of her nipple, scraping it
across the ridged enamel as his hand groped at her vagina.

"Watch this, lady.  Open your eyes and watch."

"I don't want to.  Please?"

"Open them."  His hand squeezed roughly at the lips of her cunt.  She
opened her eyes and looked into his macabre face.

"Look at my cock, lady.  Watch it tickle you."  He yanked away the last
shreds of the nightgown and began rubbing the slick, cruddy head of his
penis up her thigh.  She cringed as she felt the slippery, rancid flesh
touch her.

"Pretty, ain't it?"

He hunched up and rubbed the packer-head against her stomach, the lower
half of her breasts, her nipples, her throat.

It was like a cancerous worm crawling over her body, bred in some
ghoulish nightmare and brought into the world of light and horror.  Her
lips trembled as he crawled up on top of her and poked the rubbery flesh
against her closed lips.

"Suck it!" he hissed.  "Open your mouth and suck it with all your
might."

Gwen tossed her head to the side and beat at him with her fists.  He
laughed and grabbed her arms, pinning them to the bed.

"Get her feet, boys.  Warm her up."

The hands banded around her ankles and she felt the penises rubbing
against her thigh as the men muttered and panted.

"Now, either you open your mouth or I open it for you, bitch."

Gwen tossed her head to the other side, sucking her lips back into her
mouth and biting as hard as she could.

"All right then, bitch."  His knees shoved into her shoulders and his
fingers pinched her nose, cutting off her supply of air.

She gulped, trying to breathe.  When her mouth opened, the man shoved
his penis in and warned her.

"You bite it hard, and I guarantee it'll be the last thing in the world
you bite.  Now just suck it until it comes, lady.  Just suck it until it
comes."

Gwen tried to twist away, but it was hopeless.  The man laughed and held
her nose tightly shut.

"Suck," he growled.

Slowly capitulating, Gwen began to give the repulsive staff gentle tugs
with her mouth.  The man rocked forward as she drew it into her mouth,
driving it farther and farther down her throat.

The two men holding her feet were licking inside her thigh.  They pulled
her legs far apart and began teasing her clitoris and anus with their
tongues, jabbing at the openings with practiced lunges.

She fought the sensation, but it was useless.  No, she cried in her
mind, no, don't let me.  Allen, please, Allen, help me?

The feeling began to spread through her.  It was a warm, exciting,
tingling sensation---a need that grew inside her as quickly as her fear
had.  She needed the attention, she needed the cock in her mouth, the
tongues lapping at her cunt, at her ass.  She needed the feel of the
slimy penises crawling around on her body, etching dirty words across
her breasts, poking their scabby heads at her ass and mouth and nose.

She relaxed and began to suck eagerly at the penis in her mouth, drawing
it deep to the back of her throat and swallowing, making the head bang
against the roof of her mouth.

The man above her moaned and shifted his weight, freeing her arms.  She
moved her hands up and wrapped her fingers around the staff, jerking it
off as she helped drive it deeper into her throat.

Her hips began to jerk, throwing themselves up at the men who tormented
and triggered her lust.  She clenched her vaginal muscles, trapping the
tongue inside her and milking it as she might a limp cock she wanted to
grow hard again.

Every trick she had been taught by Bob and Sybil came to her aid and she
lunged and moaned and clawed at the men, desperately trying to satisfy
them and herself.

She felt the man pull his cock out of her mouth.

"Let me down there.  Let me fuck her.  Out of the way."  He panted
hoarsely, frantically grabbing at Gwen's breasts and pawing them as he
pushed the other two men out of the way and wedged himself between her
legs.

"She's hot.  Boy, is she hot."

He took his saliva-slick penis in his hand and clumsily jabbed it at her
opening.  Gwen, her eyes glazed, her breath coming quick pants, reached
down and helped him guide it in.  Her fingers replaced his around the
base of the shank and she stabbed the cock in, driving it inside her as
she might a dildo.

"Fuck ..." she wheezed, "fuck me.  Please?  Love me?"

There was no turning back and no desire to.  All she wanted was the
obscene man's prick to jam into her and probe her guts until it put out
the burning fire of desire that raged in her swollen cunt.

"All right.  All right," he panted, lurching forward and sinking his
rapier-like shaft into her.

Gwen cried out and clutched the back of his neck, pulling his stocking-
covered head down against her breasts until she felt his wet mouth
breathing against the nipple.  She rubbed his head against one mound,
then the other, grunting and crying and whispering for him to fuck her
until she was dead.

Beneath her, she felt the other men's hands prying up under her
buttocks, their fingers seeking out her ass, their pricks undulating
against her thighs.

"Come on me," she cried.  "Come on me."

She looked over the man's shoulder and saw one of the trio jerking at
his cock, stripping it rapidly and aiming it at her face.

"In my mouth.  Shoot it in my mouth," she begged, looking at him with
pleading eyes, her mouth opening and forming an oval.

He edged along the side of the bed and leaned over his partner's neck,
sticking the head of his cock into Gwen's mouth.

She sucked at it, straining to push her head farther over the man's
shoulder and take in more of the turgid penis' girth.

"It's coming.  It's coming."

She felt the first, wet, sticky drops of seminal fluid touch her tongue.
Her lips masticated the head of the engorged tool until she felt the
stream of jism sluice into her mouth in a heavy, viscous stream.  She
held it for a moment in the back of her throat and swallowed.

"More.  More," she begged, throwing her legs up around the humping man's
waist and biting into his neck.  His hands mauled her breasts and his
stockinged head rubbed like sandpaper against her cheek.

"Deeper.  Oh, God, fuck me!"

She felt her body stiffen and the man jerk as his cock spat its venom
inside her.  She wrapped her ankles together and squeezed him until he
grunted.  The finger in her ass drove up, lifting her off the bed and
she screamed as the warm, relaxing sensation of her orgasm carried her
away into the shameless world of ecstasy.

As she floated down, her body relaxing, the realization of what she had
just allowed her body to do becoming clear to her, she cried.

Quietly at first, and then more vigorously until her body was wracked
with sobs.

"That's enough.  And thanks.  Here's your money."

She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at the men.  The skinny man
stood holding out his hand as the man who had toyed with her buttocks
peeled off twenty bills into his hand.

"If I ever see you around here again, I'll call the cops and tell them
you really raped her."

"No sweat, mister.  And if you want us for anything else ..."

"That's all.  Get out."

The two men left hurriedly.  The third man turned and looked at Gwen.
He pulled the stocking off his head and began to laugh, a bitter,
caustic laugh that was drowned out by Gwen's scream.

"Allen!"

Chapter 11

"Slut.  You filthy whore.  Those were the scum of the earth and you let
them fuck you.  You sucked their clicks."  Allen's face was scarlet.
His lips curled back odiously.

"Allen.  Why?  Why?"

"Sybil told me you were a little whore.  She told me you fucked anything
with legs.  Now I know.  Now I know."

"No!  No!"  Gwen screamed, burying her face in her hands and sobbing.
"No."

She didn't see Allen reach into his pocket and pull out the cord.  She
didn't feel him grab her hands and tie them to the headboard or lash her
feet to the bottom frame.  She heard nothing but the loud ringing in her
ears as her mind fought to comprehend the meaning of it all.

"You wanted a party," Allen shouted, shoving his face into hers.  "Well,
you'll get one."

Laughing insanely, he strolled out of the room, returning a moment later
with a can of Ajax and a bottle of cheap wine.

"You're a slut.  I have to clean you up you slut."

He shook the powder between her legs, on her breasts and face, then
splashed the wine on her, laughing shrilly all the while.  His trembling
hands slapped at her flesh, rubbing the coarse cleanser into her skin.
He rammed his finger into her vagina, screwing the digit in and scraping
the soft tissues with the gritty mixture.

"Stop, Allen!  Stop!"

She was as tense as a spring.  When his fingers washed the cleanser
around her clitoris, she began to feel the hotness coming to her cheeks,
the uncontrollable desire gripping her.  The room began to bend in
toward her, Allen's laughing shape wavered before her eyes.  Her mind
reeled.

"Stop!  Stop," she panted, trying to fight the teasing, hungry need he
was stimulating in her.

"You like that, don't you, bitch?"  Allen shoved his fingers in
brutally.  "You like that."

"No," she whispered.  "No.  I don't."

"Yes you do."  He jacked them in and out faster.  The blood-filled
clitoris bulged out against his finger, aching for more and more
attention.

Gwen tried to buck her hips.  The ropes burned against her wrists and
ankles.  The pillow beneath her head was damp and soggy from the tears
that rolled down her face as she struggled not to respond.

Her body betrayed her, arching up against the pain of her bounds,
driving itself against his finger.

"Fuck.  Fuck me, Allen," she whimpered, her mind jiggling like lusty
Jello in her head.  "I need it.  I can't help it."

"You lie.  You're just a whore.  A rotten whore."

He jerked the finger away and she began to cry, twisting her arms and
trying to get her fingers down to her hole to relieve what he had
started.  He sat back and laughed at her and began rubbing the Ajax on
her nipples, grinding the gritty particles into the tips of her nipples,
making the smooth flesh rise up with red, streaked welts.

She felt the powder sift into her mouth and eyes as he roared with
laughter, laving her body madly with the soap.  The pain was suppressed
by the want that made his every touch electrify her body.

"Sybil.  Bob," she whimpered, coughing and choking on the powder as
Allen shook it down her throat.  "Someone help me!  Please!  Help me!"

Allen's hand lashed out and knocked her head to one side.  She
remembered his maniacal laughing as she slipped into the disturbed
solace of unconsciousness, her hips jerking up and down, her tongue
licking at her lips, tasting the blood that lingered there.

"Whore.  Viet Cong whore.  Killer.  Murderer."

The words rang through her mind as she fell headlong through the
nightmare-filled world of blackness.

*    *    *

"I'm sorry," Sybil said sitting next to Bob and rubbing the back of his
neck with her hand.  "You were right about them.  I think we went too
far."

Bob hesitated, then relaxed and leaned his head against Sybil's firm,
jutting breast as a little boy might against the consolation of his
mother's bosom.

"I'm glad, Sybil.  I'm glad you're back to yourself."

"I am," she said, hooking her chin against his neck and smiling lewdly.
"I have it all figured out.  Exactly where we went wrong and how we can
solve it."

"Just forget about them, I suppose," Bob replied, nuzzling down into her
cleavage and desiring her body.  It had been so long since the two of
them had shared their lustful demands.  Allen had taken her from him
completely, but he was gone now.  Now things could return as they were,
with the two of them sharing their desires, feeding off one another's
body as they used to.

"No, we can't just forget them," Sybil said smoothly.

"We have to protect ourselves.  There's no telling what they might say
about us if the police ever got to them."

"What do you suggest," Bob said hoarsely, running his hand down between
her legs and cupping Sybil's vagina.

She cringed at his touch.  Bob wasn't like Allen.  He was like a little
boy, waiting, hoping that she would let him have some.  Watching.
Waiting.  Allen was a man.  He was rough and bitter, violent.  He could
please her by himself.  She wouldn't have to go out of the house to seek
a man to satisfy her, or a woman to lull her in the interim.

"One more meeting.  We'll have one more meeting.  I'll ask them to come
up and once they're here, I'll have Largo come over and snap them out of
it."

Bob's hand stopped its manipulations.  He sat up and looked at her.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Sybil."

"We have to," she said, pulling his head back down against her chest and
opening her blouse so he could suck on her nipple.  "Believe me, Bob.  I
know what I'm doing.  It will be the last time.  We'll rid ourselves of
them and protect our interests at the same time."

"All right," he said, letting the nipple fall from between his teeth.
"I'll call Largo tomorrow."

"No.  You don't need to.  I thought this whole scheme up.  I'll call
him."

"All right," Bob mewed, slipping his hand down the front of her capris
and feeling the damp lips of her vagina.  "All right."

Sybil smiled as she wriggled her hips and helped Bob pull her clothes
off.  The smile preyed on her lips as she leaned back on the couch, her
legs forked, and pushed her husband's head down to prepare her snatch.
She felt his tongue licking at her slot, nibbling at her clitoris,
sucking at the hole like a small boy eating a slice of wet, dripping
watermelon.  It was like the final feast before the slaughter, she
thought, wrapping her long, lithe legs around his head and squeezing.
It was his last taste of her flesh before ...

*    *    *

Allen put the phone down and laughed his way into the bedroom.  Gwen was
still spread-eagled on the bed, her hair matted and sticking against her
face from the wine, blue splotches of the cleanser pooled around her
breasts.  For the past two days she had been drifting in and out of
consciousness, each time Allen acting more insane and torturing her with
lighted cigarettes and forks, jabbing the burning tips of the cigarettes
against her nipples and poking at her tongue and clitoris with the fork
until she nearly had an orgasm.  But each time she reached her peak, he
would stop and let her lie there begging him to finish her, to let her
complete the burning desire ready to explode.

"Poor, baby," Allen said, rubbing her flesh with a warm wash-rag.  "Has
daddy been mean to his baby."

He pressed the cool cloth against her breasts and "V".  The feeling was
soothing and Gwen looked at him suspiciously, wondering what he was up
to.

"Allen?"

"I'm not going to hurt you any more," he said, wiping at her face with
the cloth.  "I've been a bad boy.  Sybil just called and told me to stop
being mean to you.  She wants us to come up and love them.  She said she
would make you well."

His buckling voice was steady and his jaw relaxed as he looked at her
sympathetically.

"She wants us to come up tonight.  Like old times.  I'm going to untie
you now and let you get cleaned up.  You will be nice, won't you?  You
won't run away or scream?"

He untied the bonds.  Gwen put her arms around his neck and cried,
feeling her numb hands begin to tingle as the blood rushed back into
them.

"Oh, Allen.  What's happened to us?  What's the matter?"

"Everything is going to be all right, baby," he said, rubbing his hands
up her marred back.  "Believe me, everything is going to be all right."

"I'm scared, Allen.  I'm terribly scared," Gwen said, biting her lip and
hugging him close.

"Don't be scared, dear.  Sybil and Bob love us.  Sybil told me so over
the phone.  She said we should love her.  And we should be happy."

"I want to be happy, I want to," Gwen answered, feeling a chill up her
spine as Allen's cold hands pressed against her back.  "I want to be
happy."

Chapter 12

Bob forced a smile and tried to sound affable when he met Allen at the
door.

"Hello, come in."

Gwen, her battered frame hunkered under a knee-length raincoat, smiled
and followed her husband inside, nodding hello to Bob and hurrying to
sit down.

"Say, I'm sorry about losing my temper last weekend Had a terrible week,
Allen.  You know how those things go."

"Yeah," Allen said, a bland smile on his face.  "We all have our ups and
downs."

"Sit down, Sybil will be out in a minute.  She's fixing her hair.  Want
a drink?"

"Yeah.  How about you, Gwen?"

"No, thank you."

Bob went to the bar and Allen stood, sucking in deep breaths of air and
waiting.  He could feel the tension in the air, the blood rushing
through his veins, his muscles quivering in anticipation.  A hollow
feeling coursed through him and he thought of crouching inside the
helicopter, ready to leap to the ground as it whirred down into the
landing zone.

Gwen picked at her fingers and looked around the room.  It seemed
foreign to her, unreal.  She had expected the warm comfort of home when
she walked in the door.  She expected things to be as they had in the
past, a soothing love-rife warmth to wrap her mind in its lulling arms
and wash away the fear and anticipation she had felt the last week with
Allen.  But it was different.  It was cold and frightening.

"You look gloomy."  Bob handed the drink to Allen and sat next to Gwen.
"What's the matter, don't you love us any more?"

He laughed, alone, looking at Gwen's jumpy eyes.

She smiled, trying to feel the experience she had thrived on with them
for such a long time.

"Just tired.  Very tired."

"We'll fix that up," Bob said gleefully.  "Remember that hypnotist,
Largo?  We've invited him over.  We're going to cheer you up."  He
reached out and patted Gwen's leg.

A slow, crawling clamminess inched up her back as Bob's hand touched
her.  The feeling startled her and her eyes grew wide, her mind puzzled.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.  It was supposed to be good, warm,
exciting.

"Here she is."

Sybil stepped into the room, her hands folded behind her, her ever-
present cat-and-mouse grin stretched thin across her sensual face.  Her
eyes glinted as she raised the revolver up and pointed it at Bob.

"Hello everyone."

Bob laughed and set his drink down.  "Look at Sybil, always playing
around."  He rose and stepped toward her.  A loud ratcheting click
resonated through the silent room as she pulled the revolver's hammer
back.

"I'm not joking, Bob," she said coolly.  "It's loaded and if you don't
do as I say, I'll kill you right here."

"Come on, Sybil, don't play around."  Bob's voice was stern, his eyes
narrowed as he looked at Allen who moved up behind him.

"Grab him, Allen."

Allen quickly slipped his arms behind Bob and wrestled him to the floor
with a full nelson.

"Sybil?"'

She kicked out at him, driving her pointed shoe into his chin.

"You sniveling bastard," Sybil snarled.  "Look at you.  You're half a
man.  Living off me like a leech, afraid to hit me, afraid to share the
pain of love."

Allen lifted him to his knees and Sybil drove her foot into his stomach.
Bob heaved over and gagged.

"Don't move, bitch."  Sybil swung the gun toward Gwen, who was inching
away from the scene.  "Or I'll put a bullet through that lovely chest of
yours."

Gwen froze, unable to comprehend the situation.

"Come here, Gwen, dear," Sybil said, waving the gun in a circle.

Slowly, Gwen walked toward her.

"You see, dear, you aren't woman enough for your husband, and my husband
isn't man enough for me.  So we figure that you two ought to make a very
loving pair."  She licked her lips and looked down at Bob's aghast face.

"Take him into the bedroom, Allen."

Allen grabbed Bob's arm and twisted it behind his back.

"Get in there."  He shoved Bob ahead of him, driving rabbit punches into
the man's neck.

"Follow them, Gwen, dear."

Sybil leveled the gun at Gwen's waist and watched her as she stepped
timidly into the bedroom.

"Did you bring the rope, Allen?"

"Yes."

"Tie him."

Bob tried to wrestle free of Allen's vise-like grip.  Allen's fist flew
out and smashed the man in the jaw, dazing him.  He tied the limp
figure's arms and legs to the bed.

"Get me a knife," he hissed.

"No blood," Sybil said.  "No blood."

"Just to tease him," Allen moaned, grabbing the man by the face and
shaking his head.  "Just to tease him."

"Watch her."

Sybil backed out of the room.

"Take your clothes off, cunt," Allen shouted, leering at his wife.
"Take your clothes off like you did with all the other men while I was
away."

"Allen, stop.  This is mad.  They've done something terrible to us.
Please Allen?"

He slapped her across the face, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"Very good," Sybil said, handing Allen the knife.  "But don't put too
many marks on her.  It has to look good.  Out in the pool when we're
through."

"She's a rotten bitch, just like you said, Sybil.  I did just what you
said.  I got the men.  They fucked her and she liked it.  She doesn't
love me and she doesn't love you.  I heard what she said.  She said she
didn't love you.  She said that."

"Good.  Good."  Sybil's voice was calm.  "Undress her and him."

His hands shaking with anger, Allen grabbed his wife by the hair and
shoved the knife under the top of her dress.  He pulled, slicing the
material down the front.

"Primitive, but effective," Sybil said, primping her hair with one hand
and holding the gun on Bob with the other.  "I'm going to like you,
Allen.  I'm going to like you a lot."

Bob stirred on the bed, looking at the three figures below him.

"Allen.  She'll dump you.  She'll find someone else who can give her
what you can't.  She's a beast.  Allen, for God's sake, listen to me.
She'll get tired of you.  She'll turn you into putty ..."

"Hit him, Allen," Sybil commanded.

Allen jumped up and smashed a fist into Bob's stomach.

"Throw the girl on him.  Let's watch them fuck for the last time."  As
she spoke, Sybil unbuttoned the top of her blouse and pressed her
fingers around her hot breasts, squeezing the nipples until they were
long and hard.

"Suck his cock," Allen spat.  "Suck his cock until it's hard."

He shoved Gwen's face down between Bob's legs.

"Take his trousers off, Allen, dear," Sybil said, leaning against the
wall and pressing her fingers harshly against her breast.  "That always
helps."

"You take them off, bitch," he yelled in Gwen's ears, guiding her hands
up to Bob's belt.

Fumbling, her fingers pulled at the zipper and metal catch, peeling back
Bob's trousers and ex- posing his white underwear.

"Down to his knees," Allen yelled.  "Pull them down to his knees."

Shaking, Gwen followed her husband's orders as she felt the tip of the
butcher knife jab sharply into her back.

"Allen, stop.  Get hold of yourself.  This is mad.  Mad."  She tried to
whisper low, so Sybil wouldn't hear.  No longer did she love the woman,
no longer did she desire to be touched by her.  It was gone.  It was all
gone, washed from her mind.  "She's using you," Gwen said with a quaking
voice.  "She's using you."

Allen laughed and pressed the knife harder against her back.

"Liar," he yelled, snapping his teeth at her neck and biting her flesh
viciously.  "You're a cubit.  A dirty whore."

"Very good, Allen.  Very good."

Sybil shrugged out of her blouse and threw it to the floor.  She laid
the gun down and stepped out of her capris, her massive breasts dangling
seductively as she pulled one foot and then the other out of her silk
panties.

"Look at our bodies, Allen.  Look at your wife's body and mine."

Sybil turned slowly, thrusting out her chest so her large breasts stood
proudly, so her buttocks curved out and her waist nipped in.  Her skin
was creamy and smooth, without a blemish.  From the manipulations of her
hands, her nipples stood out in relief, a deep, lively red.  She cocked
one leg on the edge of the bed and pulled the lips of her vagina apart,
exposing the red, raw, inviting gash to Allen's thirsty eyes.

"Now look at your wife's body and tell me which one is worth killing
for."

Gwen's body was bruised and trembling.  Her small structure made her
breasts look like toys perched on her chest, her ass, dotted with black
and blue marks, was pale and pasty.  Her eyes looked tired and dark
rings haunted the skin beneath them.

"My wife's a dirty slut.  I hate her."

Sybil laughed and pressed her tits against  Allen's back.

Make her suck his cock," she said, nibbling on Allen's ear.  "Make her
fuck my husband."

"Get down."  He shoved Gwen's mouth over Bob's flaccid prick.  "Open it
and suck, you scab."

The nightmare came to life in Gwen's mind.  She saw it all, in all its
hideous perverted forms.  They were puppets, manipulated by Sybil,
dancing and laughing as Sybil commanded.  She had never loved her,
never.

"Suck!"

She felt Bob's penis sliding around her closed mouth.  Slowly, she
opened her mouth and felt the limp organ creep between her lips as Allen
ground her face down harder and harder.

Gwen knew what they had made of her.  They had primed her to feel what
she was feeling now, conditioned her to shiver at the touch of a man's
penis, to want him no matter what he looked like, no matter how strong
the fear.  As she tasted Bob's unconscious penis, she knew she couldn't
fight them.  Her body began to ache, her loins began to burn as she
sucked the shaft in, gulping at the head of the rod, milking it with her
mouth.

Bob stirred under her.  She heard him groan and felt his cock begin to
stiffen.  She sucked harder, oblivious of the threat that lurked behind
her, caring nothing about the future, caring nothing about anything but
the penis in her mouth and the fiery sensation building in her groin.
She didn't care any more.  About anything but sex and flesh.  The
satisfying, thirst-quenching aroma of flesh.

"He's addicted too," Sybil cooed, rubbing her breasts along Allen's
neck, sliding her slit up and down his sides as she looked at Gwen
sucking Bob's cock over Allen's shoulder.  "He'll get hard.  He'll get
hard."

Bob pulled at the bonds that held him prisoner on the bed.  He tried to
keep his mind from the lips that nipped and drew his cock into its
mouth.  It felt like thousands of tiny fish-teeth gnawing at him, urging
him to stiffen with excitement and leak out the life-juice.

His cock became harder and harder as he looked at Sybil's bewitched
face.  She was taunting him, sticking out her tongue and licking it
across her lips.  Rubbing her breasts against Allen's neck, shoving the
nipples into his ear.

Gwen mouthed the pole, making loud slurping sounds as she pulled her
head up and drew the bulbous head of the penis out of her mouth, only to
jerk it rapidly and plunge her lips back over it to repeat the process.

"Enough," Sybil called, pulling Gwen's head up by the hair.  "Mount her
on him, Allen."

Allen lifted Gwen away from the stiff, flopping prick, prying her hands
which gripped tenaciously around his staff until she was free of the
rod.  He raised her above Bob while Sybil pulled her husband's shaft up
and aimed it into Gwen's wet cunt.

"Drop her."

Gwen shut her eyes as she felt Bob's hard cock impale her.  Sybil and
Allen jerked her up and down over the pole, laughing and spitting
obscenities as they pumped her up and down.

Her cunt muscles gripped Bob's flesh bar, squeezing it as her fingers
had when she sucked him.  Her hands rubbed against her breasts, pulling
at the nipples and rolling them between her thumb and forefinger.

"God!  God!" she screamed, throwing back her head and feeling the hands
shove her down until the pain of Bob's bent penis buckling against the
head of her cervix made her cry out in ecstatic agony.

"Faster.  Faster," Sybil chanted, her breath coming quickly.  `'Make
them luck faster."

"Yes.  Faster.  Faster."  Allen chimed to his mistress's urgings and
jerked Gwen's form forcefully.

Gwen opened her eyes and saw Bob's face.  It vas white and twisted,
hardening like cement before her eyes.  She felt herself lilting,
swaying as her orgasm tumbled through her, exploding out over his cock-
bar and washing its turgid head with the creamy, frothing juices of her
passion.  He grunted and lurched beneath her, spasming his come into
her, washing the walls of her snatch with the white, geysering sperm.

"One more lunge," Sybil grunted, lifting Gwen and dropping her over the
cock.

Bob howled, his fists knotting into rock-hard balls.  Gwen moaned,
sinking down over his prick and feeling the last electric shocks of her
orgasm pulse through her.

The hands holding her released their grip and she fell limply onto Bob's
heaving chest, feeling his still-hard prick bend as she pressed against
him.

"Make him suck out the juice," Allen growled.  "Make him suck out the
juice."

Gwen felt Allen's rough hands lift her off the dong and slide her up to
Bob's face.  He took her legs and spraddled them beside Bob's neck and
pushed her wet cunt over the man's mouth.

Bob squirmed under her as Allen cursed and shoved Gwen down harder and
harder, suffocating him.

"Taste the whore's mouth.  Taste it you bastard."

Bob's body thrashed frantically as the minutes ticked by.  Gwen cried as
she felt his teeth biting at her; his mouth opening wide, trying to gasp
a breath of air.

"Die, fucker.  Die!"  Allen rasped.

"Don't kill him?"  Sybil yelled.  "Not yet.  In the pool."

"He's a fucker.  A dirty fucker."  Allen lashed his hand back and
smashed his fist against Sybil's face as she tugged at him to release
the strangling vagina from Bob's face.  She fell back on the floor, out
cold.

Sweat ran off Gwen's face.  Her hands felt cold, lifeless.  Her throat
dry.

"Allen, stop.  You're killing him.  Allen!"

"Whore.  Viet Cong whore.  I remember you, you bitch.  You tried to kill
me.  You sat on my face."

His voice was broken, his hands like pliers pinching and pressing Gwen's
shoulders down.

Bob no longer stirred beneath her.  His body was limp and lifeless.  The
teeth didn't bite.  The mouth didn't move.

"Die.  Die!" Allen cried, shoving Gwen down harder and harder.  "Die!
Die!"

"Allen," she sobbed.  "You killed him.  You killed him."

"Good.  He's one of them.  He shot the mortars.  I know he did.  And
you're one too.  You're one of them.  You killed Monroe.  You slit his
throat."

Gwen felt the knife press against her throat.

"I'm going to fuck you, you whore.  I'm going to luck you in the ass
like I should all your cookie friends.  Then I'm going to kill you, cut
your throat."

He pushed her down.  Her gnawed vagina slipped off Bob's pale face.  His
mouth was open, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Gwen screamed.

"Nobody can help you, bitch."  He laughed insanely, drawing the knife
across her throat, slitting the skin and making the blood dribble slowly
down her chest.

"Raise your ass up, bitch.  Raise it."

He pulled her waist up and pushed her head down into the bedspread near
Bob's dead face.  Jabbing at her anus with his cock, he began to probe
inside her, pushing his girthy cock into her asshole and calling her
names.

"Bitch.  Viet Cong gutter tramp!"

He drew the knife again and again across her back, making razor-thin
slices that seeped full of blood and bathed her back with a thin slimy
sheet.

Gwen couldn't feel the cock jammed into her ass or the hot, searing pain
of the knife making its cuts on her back.  She only felt an overpowering
sickness in her stomach as she looked into Bob's rigid face.

"Stop.  Stop!  What are you doing.  Stop.  It's all wrong.  You're
spoiling everything."

Sybil weaved to her feet, her hands pressed against her face as she saw
the dead form of her husband and the bloody mass of flesh that Allen was
hunching into.

"Stop."

She picked up the gun and pulled the trigger.  The explosion rang
through Allen's mind, ripping back the thin layer of thoughts that had
hidden his secret.  The bullet smashed into the wall above his head.

"You!"  He swung around, pushing Gwen off the bed and onto the floor.

"You!  You're one too.  You're a fucking Viet Cong spy."

He lunged out and hit Sybil in the stomach, knocking the gun from her
hand.  He hit her again and again across the face and then lifted her on
the bed, placing her on top of Bob and jacked up her ass.

"You!"

His hands closed around the knife and he began to stab at her ass with
his cock, cursing and shouting.

"Whore!  Communist pig!"

Gwen saw the knife rise and fall, felt the blood spewing out and raining
on her body.  She crawled along the rug, looking back over her shoulder
at her husband's form hunkered over Sybil's.

Her breasts burned as they scraped along the rug out into the hallway,
away from the screams and hellish laughter, away from the blood that
flew against the walls and soaked into the mattress.

She cried as she felt her nipples harden and reached down, madly
squeezing them and wiping the blood away from her eyes.

She stumbled to her feet, her face flushed with fear and the growing,
sickening passion.  Nothing mattered to her in the world, nothing but
the burning, sloughing wave of desire that swelled in her loins and
begged to be dashed out of womb.

Gwen threw the front door open, stuffed her fingers deeply in her hole
and ran down the street crying.

"Cock?  Someone give me cock?  Someone luck me?"

*    *    *

The children playing on the corner looked up curiously at the-bloody
figure staggering their way, yelling words they didn't understand,
hitting herself with her fists and reaching out for them.

Epilogue

Homicide Lieutenant Pete Boggio took the checkered handkerchief from his
pocket and wiped his forehead.

"I've seen a lot of things in my time, but this takes the cake."

He spoke solemnly, to no one in particular.  Just rolling the words off
his tongue because he felt like saying something.  It was part of his
job to say things, even if they meant nothing.

"Ugly."  Marty Russel popped another flashbulb at the bodies and pulled
the film pack from the back of his 4x5 camera.

"They haven't invented a word for this carnage," Boggio said, sinking
down on the couch and scribbling in his notebook.  He always scribbled,
whether he had anything to scribble about or not.  Like some guys chewed
toothpicks to stop smoking, Boggio scribbled.

The photographer sank down beside him and watched as the ambulance
attendants wheeled in a gurney.

"Bad scene, lieutenant."

"I know.  I know."

Boggio doodled a hangman's knot, ripped off the scrap of paper and
crumpled it in his meaty fist.

"Took six of 'em to get that guy out of here.  Did you hear him
screaming about Viet Cong and ordering someone to shoot him, to kill him
rather than be captured?"

"I heard.  I heard."

Boggio didn't like Russel; he talked too much.  157

"And those poor kids.  Jesus.  Wonder what it will do to them?"

"Who knows?" Boggio said, drawing stick figures of a man and woman with
ropes around their necks.

"God," Russel said, setting his camera on the floor and lighting a
cigarette.  The smoke teased Boggio's nostrils and made him want to ask
for a butt.  He checked the impulse and ripped off another sheet of the
scrap paper, wadding it and throwing it across the room.

"God what?"

"God, I was just thinking about those kids.  That woman grabbing that
little boy and saying those things to him.  Pulling down his pants and
sucking on his penis while the others watched.  Jesus, what's it going
to do to them?"

Boggio drew a picture of a little boy with tears in his eyes, ripped it
off the pad and crumpled it.

"Why?  Why?"  Russel asked, shifting and blowing the tantalizing smoke
into the Lieut~hant's face.

"Perverts," Boggio said, clamping his jaw tightly and standing, folding
his pad up and stulEng it in his pocket.  "Perverts.  The world is full
of them."

The End

--
.
