'Oh, please stop, John, please stop! I won't be jealous anymore, I promise!' Iris sobbed.
But John went on unheedingly. He seemed mesmerized by the up and down movement of his own hand, and with a fixed grin, sadistic and cruel, was pasted obscenely on his face.
An unaccustomed new feeling was taking hold of him. A strange, almost eerie sensation, that made it impossible for him to stop his punishing task. The slap-slap sound of his hand against his wife's bare backside, her cries and pleas for mercy, the pounding of her loins into his crotch, all sparked an unnatural flame deep within him. He felt his cock lurch, springing into semierection. Each hard, cruel stroke of his hand sent his member jerking into greater size, until it was pushing painfully against his Bermuda shorts.
Iris' voice was now a steady whine, interspersed with almost unintelligible pleas for mercy. But John was untouched by her anguish.
Hypnotically, he slashed on and on with his hand, until he began to feel a dull ache in his palm, but still he could not stop. There was a connection between the rising and falling of his hand and the churning that was increasing in intensity in his balls. His cock was rock-hard and throbbing and jerking as Iris' naked crotch pushed down on it, trying to avoid the blows from above.
Perspiration was pouring down John's face, and his chest was heaving. His knees and thighs felt numb and sore from the weight of his wife's body. His upper arm began to ache and felt as heavy as a sledgehammer, but still, as if guided by an unknown demoniac power, it kept rising and descending. His eyes were closed now, and nothing mattered to him, but the great swirls of heat that were building up in his balls. He was like a man possessed — his wife's pleas were drowned out — he heard nothing and saw nothing.
Iris was terrified. Try as she might, she could not escape her husband's punishing hand. His other arm gripped her tightly and her whole body ached from the strange position but mostly from the cruelty he was inflicting on her buttocks. Every slap sent fresh pain shooting up from her ass to her back, and worse still, she could feel his cock, risen to tumescence digging into her lower stomach. It felt like granite and she didn't know what he was going to do next. He was acting like an automaton — nothing seemed to penetrate his iron skin. Her head was spinning and her eyes, long since dry of tears, began to water. She felt she was going to faint, when suddenly, she felt her husband's loins jerking upward.
John had tried to control it — to fight it when he had found that he was on the point of cumming. But he couldn't! The floodgates were open, and his pelvis was grinding upwards, uncontrollably. He mesmerically continued the spanking, buffeting Iris unmercifully between his downward hand and his upward loins. His back arched and his hips thrust forward in a mighty surge — and he was there!!!
A bearlike snarl erupted from his throat as he spewed his hot white liquid out of his trapped cock. It gushed out, staining his Bermudas, and trickled down his leg. Finally, when he had spurted out his last drop of semen, the mechanical spanking ceased. His head sunk down onto his chest and his mouth hung slightly open.
Iris fell off his knees and onto the floor. Her face was crimson — she had never been so humiliated in all her life. There were traces of her husband's cum on her stomach where it had soaked through his Bermudas, and her buttocks were red and throbbing. She felt as if every bone in her body was broken, and she sobbed — harsh dry sobs that wracked her whole body.
Slowly, painfully, she raised herself up and using the chair John was still sitting on, hoisted herself up. Without even retrieving the bottom of her swimsuit, which had fallen from her flailing legs, she limped out of the office and into the hall that led to their bedroom.
Carla and Nancy ran until they were halfway between the lake and the main house. Finally, they stopped, their hearts thumping, and their faces red from exertion. They sat down under a tree, glad of the shade. After she had her breath, Carla broke the silence.
'Well, what did you think of it?'
'It… it frightened me!' Nancy confessed timidly. Her golden hair fanned out like a shining veil and framed her small, pale face, making her look like a cherub. Her large gray eyes were opened wide, and she looked like a scared rabbit.
'Fraidy cat!' Carla taunted. 'What's there to be frightened of?'
'We shouldn't have been watching! Suppose he'd looked up and seen us?'
'He wouldn't have noticed us if he'd been staring right at us! He was way out of it!' Carla said triumphantly.
'Why did he do that to her?' Nancy asked, wonderingly.
'I guess she musta deserved it!' Carla drawled.
'I bet it hurt… I feel sorry for her…' Nancy said timidly.
'Well, don't,' Carla said. 'At least she gets his thing in her every night! Did you see the look on his face when he came?'
'Y-yes…' was the whispered reply.
'I'd sure like to see his thing again!' Carla mused.
'What? Have — have you seen it? When?' Nancy asked disbelievingly.
'Sure! He showed it to me!' Carla answered.
'I bet he didn't! You're making that up!'
'Like hell I am! I can describe it for you. It's about this long,' she gestured, measuring an exaggerated distance, 'and when it's big, it's all red and…'
'Stop it!' Nancy said, her face scarlet. 'I don't want to hear any more!'
'Oh, all right, you're just a baby anyway! You're too young!'
'I'm not, I'm not!' Nancy said indignantly, 'I'll be fourteen in October!'
'That's too young!' Carla said jeeringly, walking on ahead.
'Oh, please, tell me about it again!' Nancy begged, catching up with her. 'How big is it? Please tell me…'
Chapter Three
'Ssshhhhh… don't make a sound!'
The two figures crept stealthily along the gravel path towards the main house. It was a cloudless night, but the moon was a mere crescent, so the shadowy figures were not immediately discernible to anyone looking out into the night.
They approached the wall of the house, and then skulked along until they came to the back window of the bedroom. There was a light on, and they tiptoed right up against the screen.
Carla could see clearly by straightening her hunched figure, but Nancy had to stand on tiptoe and crane her neck.
Iris had her back to the window. She was hanging her shift up in the closet, and John was sitting on the side of the bed, still in his Bermudas, but with a sportshirt. He was looking across at her.
'I'm sorry, honey! I don't know what came over me!' he said. 'Let's make up!'
'No sir!' was the hard reply. 'You've had your fun with me!' She turned to look at him, and Carla drew in her breath. Iris' normally soft pretty features were cold, giving her a look of callousness, which in turn made her look like an ugly harridan.
She was wearing a bra and panties, and with her back turned to her husband, she slipped off her bra and put on a cotton nightdress over her head. Then she removed her panties.
Without another word, she walked over to the bedside lamp and turned it off.
The room was plunged in darkness, and the girls heard John sigh loudly. The sound of the bedsprings creaking was followed by footsteps and the slamming of the door.
'Quick,' Carla whispered, 'he must be in the bathroom!'
Hastily, they slipped around the other side of the house, and Carla gave Nancy's hand a squeeze when they saw that the bathroom light was on.
Sneaking up to the window, they were grateful that the ground had risen in that area and they could see clearly into the bathroom.
