reached out and touched her. Lena's head was rolling back and forth, her face contorted with ecstasy. Mark was kneeling between her naked widespread legs, running his tongue moistly up and down her body. Lena writhed beneath his flickering caresses like a woman possessed, her hands tangling tightly in his hair, pulling his lips greedily to her tingling skin.
Sharon gripped the corners of the cushion, leaning forward. Lena… and Mark! She tried to blot out the shocking picture, but she couldn't. She had to look — the obscene spectacle mesmerized her. Her mind rebelled at the sight of a man toying with the naked, squirming body of a woman who was a good friend of the wife of your own husband's boss… she knew she should turn away. But she couldn't. She couldn't move!
Sharon sucked harder, as if hypnotized on the brown cigarette, the conscience-killing smoke sweeping away the revulsion, lightening her head. Then, after a few, deep inhalations, she found herself wickedly enjoying the scene before her; watching with studied detachment the pagan ritual that was as old as time itself.
Lena was beautiful, she thought as she gazed in intoxicated rapture at the enchanting woman spread on the floor. Mark had worked her to a fever pitch and the older woman's mouth hung open in ecstasy. Mark Marlowe's face was just above her softly curling pubic mound, his hands pressed on the smooth flat plane of her stomach and his thumbs lay pressed into the fleshy outer flanges of her cunt lips, pulling outward, exposing the moist red slit of the woman's vagina. The dainty pink bud of her clitoris was clearly visible, throbbing into hardness just above the stretched elastic opening of her vaginal tunnel.
Mark's head dropped and his long wet tongue snaked out to flick at the quivering little nub of raw nerves. Mrs. Alvaro's body jerked as the electric contact was made and her legs clamped tightly around his head, her soft inner thighs imprisoning his ears in a vise-like grip. Her hips began to rotate and soft wails of animal pleasure escaped from her mouth.
The innocent blonde wife on the couch gaped in disbelief as she watched her husband's boss' wife's lustful twistings to the depraved mouthing of her loins. She drew deeper on her marijuana cigarette, feeling her mind opening like a budding flower, uncertain any more whether the two writhing figures on the floor were real or figments of her imagination. Time was dancing in her head, and nothing existed in the world except the couple before her — and somehow she felt mystically connected with them.
Sharon's own torso began an involuntary swaying in time to that of Lena's, and thin folds of her dress and panties grated against her tiny, sensitive anus and vagina, sending spasms of pleasure rippling through her loins and belly, and on up to the rising nipples of her breasts.
And then Mark extricated himself from the now mewling, now mindless black-haired woman on the floor, and he gazed down from his kneeling position at the wife of his friend, his mouth and lips wet from his saliva and her vaginal secretions. He was panting from his own excitement, Sharon could hear his ragged breaths, and he stroked his hard penis which jutted from his thighs.
Sharon Court, who had never had or seen any other man except her own husband, paled and sucked her breath at the sight of the almost stranger's cock. She sat immobile, much of the nirvana that the drug had caused ripped from her as cold air can revive a drunk. She watched in terrified fascination as Mark's fingers skinned the thick foreskin rapidly up and down the full length of it, the hardened head bursting momentarily into view each time like a giant monster crawling from its secret lair. She was so close that she could see the glistening seminal fluid oozing forth from it. Mark's hoarse breathing made it quiver, and right then, his penis seemed to the frightened young wife as the most monstrous thing in the world. She could not imagine ever having something like that inside her. No woman could take it! It would kill her!
And then Lena reached up and grabbed Mark, and Mark lunged — and without hesitation, his gleaming rock- hard cock plunged into her moist, open vagina. He immediately began to fuck Alvaro's wife with long, hard strokes, and Sharon could clearly see his shaft sliding in and out of her friend's pink widespread cunt like a well-oiled piston, his sperm-laden balls smacking rhythmically into the moist crevice of her wide splayed buttocks below.
Sharon waited for Lena to scream in protest, or to fight back against the obscene rape of her open vagina — but none came.
Instead, her older girl friend's legs quivered, momentarily up into the air and then snaked back python-like around his waist. Her hands slid slowly down his gleaming body and come to rest on his white, hollowing buttocks. The fingers spread, whitened from pressure, then pulled him gluttonously into her, while below the softly clenching lips of her cunt flowered open in acceptance. It swallowed the whole of his plunging cock with each surging heave, and small piteous pleas of passionate supplication began to roll from her lips. They were lewd and filthy supplications, using words which Sharon had seldom heard except in whispers from the more daring girls back in college.
Sharon held her breath, more of the marijuana induced veil being lifted from her hazed, unbelieving eyes, and though she sat there as if glued, her hands over her wide open mouth in horror, her mind was now beginning to snap out of its lethargy enough for her to grasp firmly the total salaciousness of the situation. The complete alieness of the act as compared to her own sheltered life, the absolute nadir to every moral code to which the young naive wife had ever subscribed to.
Lena's buttocks were grinding ever faster now, and the groans and mewls of pleasure were becoming more desperate, and the demonic couplings were met with equal fury by Mark as he fucked harder and harder into her, driving her buttocks flat to the rug with each lust-inspired surge. The loud slap of their naked bellies against each other resounded in Sharon's fevered head like clasps of thunder. The drugged girl stayed in her seat as though hypnotized by the curling and uncurling legs as her girl friend strove in final desperation to reach her completion.
Sharon couldn't stand any more! Her heart and soul was a turmoil of revulsion and excitement, of horror and lewd interest, of unbelief and realization, of the shock of reality and the lulling of the drug. Something had to give!
Suddenly from Lena came a low, unearthly howl, and her hotly grinding buttocks quivered and jerked up tight against the hardened penis sunk deep in her cunt. Mark groaned above her and ground down hard, his thick fleshy rod throbbing its white, milky sperm deep up into her widening belly. The rich fluid filled her to overflowing and cascaded warmly out around her pink, moist vaginal lips. To Sharon's horror, she could see clearly a tiny white stream of it wetly trickling down the wide split crevice of her buttocks and onto the Oriental rug. The couple spasmed, endlessly expending their mindless orgasms as though she, a guest in the house, did not even exist!
The loud cry, the sight of another man's seed spilling so wantonly upon the carpet — the final link had been broken, and Sharon was released from her subjective bondage on the couch. No longer did the drug or the shock of seeing her friend, another man's wife, copulate openly before her with a strange man fascinate her to immobility. Everything was shattered. She leaped up and stumbled blindly toward the hall. Tears of abject humiliation rolled down her cheeks, smearing the light coat of makeup she'd applied before going to dinner. She ran up the stairs, not knowing where to go, where to hide, where to find an avenue of escape.
There was none. She was stuck in a house of sin and deviltry, a captive of the immense, silent, deadly moors with no means of crossing them at this time of night. She couldn't leave… but she couldn't stay. Not now!
Oh God, what could she do? She flung herself down the upstairs hall toward the only sanctuary she knew, the only place even remotely familiar and comforting — her guest room.
CHAPTER THREE
Wafto, the hunch-backed dwarf, became immediately attentive in his hiding place inside the huge antique wardrobe in Sharon Court's room when he heard the door being opened. He maneuvered his deformed body so that one eye was pressed to the small hole which had inconspicuously been bored in the left-hand door, his muscles tensed with barely repressed excitement.
The light snapped on overhead, and he could see the lithe, voluptuous blonde wife as she ran across the room and flung herself on the bed. She began weeping unabashedly, obviously upset, her lovely face twisted with emotion. Wafto smiled tightly, pressing his eye hard against the hole; he could tell by the brightness of her eyes, the flushed appearance of her cheeks, that the marijuana which she had partaken of had done its job well. And he thought he knew, too, why she was weeping; his master always became uncontrollably horny when he smoked pot,
