He dropped his hands to the quivering, oscillating moons of her buttocks, his fingers digging into the hot flesh. He began to fuck into her with long, hard lunges that received a momentum from the very depths of his toes. He felt an absolute power take hold of him in that moment, and he kneaded her ass with sadistic delectation. Harder and harder he drove his burgeoning shaft into her cunt, feeling her skewered on him in total subjection. He could feel the soft fleshy ridges deep inside her giving way before the relentless onslaught of his rampaging masculinity.
'Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhh!' she moaned against his ear, breathing liquid fire into the orifice. 'Aaaaaa gggggghhhhhh, that's it, honey, that's ittttttttt!'
He strained his cock forward with all the strength of his hips and thighs, reveling in the forbidden act of which he was a part, deriving further sensations of lasciviousness from the knowledge of the nearness of his wife and his future boss. Oh God, oh Jesus, she was great, Cindy was beautiful, she was the best fuck he had ever had…!
She was moaning softly, incoherently now, her smooth velvety legs enveloping his waist in a death grip, her hips churning the water around them. The satiny folds of her vagina held him, squeezing tightly around his rigid column, milking it already of its first tentative dribblings of seminal lubrication. He knew she could feel every inch, every muscle and curve of his prick as she screwed her buttocks up tight against his pelvis. The bloated sac of his sperm-laden balls was pressed hard into the wet, wide-stretched crevice below her vaginal lips, and the soft, hair- covered skin danced maddeningly against the sensitive outer rings of her tiny, working anus. Shivers of wanton delight made her fuck him even harder, even more wildly.
There was nothing else in the world, the universe, for Roger at that very moment. He didn't see Marc and Diane stand in unison at the white metal table in the grotto, he didn't see her waver unsteadily, he didn't see Cord take her arm with a sly backward glance lead her toward the sun porch. Even if he had seen that, he wouldn't have cared. The only thing that existed for Roger Slater then was the boiling, surging flood of hot cum which was only seconds away from eruption in his ballooned testicles.
'Ooooooohhhhhhhh yessssssss, fuck it hard, baby, fuck it hard, fuck it hard, give it to meeeeeee!' Cindy wailed into his ear, her hips like a separate entity now, an entity gone mad as she twisted and contorted, opening her legs around his waist, squeezing them closed, endeavoring to ingest even more of his pistoning shaft into her belly.
Suddenly, she cried out, 'Ohhhhh, God, baby, I'm… almost there, I'm… yes, yessssss, yessssssssss, aaaaaagggggggghhhhhh!'
Her body heaved toward his as the first delicious throes of her orgasm rocketed through her, spurring him on, locking him in. In that moment, he felt his own cum boil over, explode along the passage within his cock and burst from the widened opening in the glans like a volcanic eruption, flooding her inner cunt walls, the very core of her rapidly undulating belly, with surge after surge of the fiery white semen. She was mewling with total surrender, total lust-satiation, urging him incoherently never to stop filling her cunt with his wonderful hot seeds…
Finally he collapsed forward against her, pushing her back against the tiled edge of the pool. His prick began to deflate then, and slid out of her, trailing long sinuous strands of his cum like thin white sea kelp from her cunt. She stroked his face, smothering it with hot moist kisses. 'Oh Christ, Roger, baby!' she breathed. 'It was great, wasn't it? I just knew it would be!'
'Yes… yes, it was,' Roger muttered. Half dazed by the tumultuous fucking he had just given, and in turn received, his eyes strayed dimly toward the grotto. For the first time, he saw that it was empty. 'Diane…?' he began. 'Where did she and Marc…?'
Cindy reached down to stroke his now flaccid prick gently. 'Don't worry about them, honey. They're inside the house, where they can't see us.'
Numbly, Roger nodded. It didn't occur to him in the aftermath of his satiated flesh to inquire why his wife and Marc Cord had gone into the house. Even now, the only thing that seemed to matter was this wild, wanton woman he had just screwed.
Cindy said, 'Come on, honey, let's get out of the pool and go lie in the sun.'
'What for?' he asked.
She laughed softly. 'Because I think I can get you another hard-on, that's why. You'd like to fuck again, wouldn't you?'
'Yes,' he answered. 'God, yes!'
'If you're a good boy,' Cindy giggled, rubbing his deflated penis lightly with the tips of her fingers, 'I might even suck you off. Would you like me to suck your big cock, Roger?'
He felt his limp prick give a convulsive leap at the sound of her words, come half-erect again in her hand. She kissed him passionately. 'See?' she said. 'I told you I could make it hard again.'
He heard himself say the words he was then thinking, 'Oh Christ, Cindy, I want to lick your cunt. I want to lick your cunt while you suck my cock!'
Her hand tightened on him. 'Then let's go!' she said, and, still holding onto his genitals, she led him to the tile steps at the shallow end of the pool.
CHAPTER FOUR
'The pitcher is empty, little girl,' Marc Cord said, smiling and lifting the heavy cut crystal decanter for her to see.
Diane, her mind fuzzy from the rum, stared at it. 'And I was almost ready for a refill.' The sun sparkled off the glass, making her wince. Her whole physical being seemed to satisfyingly relax in the warm rays of the sun. She could have sat there forever…
'Come on,' Marc urged, standing up. 'Keep me company while I make some more.'
She smiled up at him. He was really quite a man, she thought. Pure, raw, male animal, and she was… well, sort of attracted to him. Not that she was going to do anything about it, of course. She was married, and so was he. Hands off! Private property! But that didn't stop her from helping him mix some more rum cocktails, did it? Not at all!
'Love to,' she replied. She rose unsteadily, and Marc took her arm. She accepted his assistance gratefully; with all the liquor she'd drunk and the soporific effect of the sun, she doubted she could make it to the door without it.
She giggled and took her empty glass as they walked to the sun porch. Marc opened the door and waited for her to enter. He led her to the tweed couch, and, in spite of her apprehension, she sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. He continued to talk of generalities as he crossed to the bar and opened the small refrigerator for more ice. Diane leaned back on the cushions, her mind drifting, hazy from the alcohol, and let his warm voice flow through her. She enjoyed the way he talked. He was so pleasant, almost like a brother rather than the ruthless ogre her husband had made him seem like. Well, Roger was wrong: Marc was not all that dangerous, all that terrible.
She leaned forward and for the first time noticed the hard-cover portfolio on the rattan table in front of her. The jacket had the gold embossed title: 'Studies of Love'. She touched the cover, afraid and yet a little curious as to what it might contain; but her inquisitiveness finally won out. She raised the cover and gazed at the first picture.
It was in full color, obviously taken by a skilled photographer. It depicted two people making love, their faces contorted in rapture. Diane gasped in sudden embarrassment and looked quickly over at Cord, who was still blandly mixing the new pitcher of rum cocktails and talking about the weather they had in Marin County, evidently oblivious to her knowledge of the portfolio.
Hypnotized by the carnal activity in the photo, Diane studied the photo, for she had never seen a picture of two people making love before, and it looked strange to her. She wondered if this was the way she and Roger looked, with the almost crab-like splaying of arms and legs. Then she turned to the next one, which was of a man having his penis sucked by a beautiful blonde woman. She thought of the night before, of her with Roger's member in her mouth; but the differences were obvious. The woman in the picture was enjoying it, her mouth stretched wide and her lips locked around it in an oval as though they would never release their prize. A ripple of secret desire
