moaning incoherently now and wound her smooth long legs tightly around his naked hips as he thrust into her. The smooth velvet folds of her vagina held him, squeezing tightly around his rigid fleshy column, until she could feel every corrugation on his rigidly pulsating cock. This was madness the helplessly aroused young wife had never known – a total surrender to the lure of the flesh. Her drugged young mind reveled in her wickedness as she wantonly screwed her buttocks up tight against his pelvis until she could feel his sperm-laden balls pressed warmly into the wet, wide-stretched crevice below her vagina; his testicles danced teasingly against the sensitive outer rings of her tightly puckered little anus sending shivers of lewd delight surging through her fluttering nerve ends.
There was nothing else in me world; no tomorrow, no Hank, no better person to be, nothing but this deep dark hole of lust and flesh, of belly smacking against naked belly… of cunt against cock.
'Ooooohhhh yes, yes, fuck it hard, daring, fuck it hard! Give it to meeeeeeee!!!' she begged, gasping. She was already approaching an orgasm and her body had become something animal, no longer human, as she twisted, writhed, and contorted, spreading her wantonly trembling legs wide apart and then pulling them up to her shoulders, bending them at the knees, spurring him on like a wild stallion with the heed of her shoes serving as rowels a digging his hard-muscled buttocks.
Kim saw a flash of light as the lamps in the room flicked on and clenched her eyes tightly to block it out. Through the haze of hashish and passion she was vaguely aware of someone entering the room, but nothing mattered anymore except that beautifully hard cock ramming into her from above.
'Goddamn,' she heard a voice like Ernie's say, 'Look at Miss Frigid go.'
'I told you to be patient, dear, the hashish and the orgy brought her around just like I said it would. Think you'd like some of that pussy?' It was Nichole and her voice was triumphant.
'Man, is she ever tender! If Klaus doesn't fuck her to death, I will. Let's call in some of the others. We shouldn't leave our hosts out of something this good.'
'That's fine with me. I want to see her get screwed within an inch of her life. I want to see her get screwed all night. I'm doing her a favor.'
The voice had been Nichole's and now she heard other voices, voices of derision and admiration. She opened her eyes a slit. There were men, naked men, lining up by the bed with erect cocks in their hands. There was Nichole taking pictures of her fucking her head off with Klaus.
Kim shut her eyes, a look of lewd ecstasy moving over her face. Let them! Let them all fuck her! And let them take pictures of her! Let them do every obscene and lewd thing they wanted to do to her. She closed her eyes tight in masochistic rapture: it was going to be a long night, and she was going to fuck them all.
And, God! How happy she was! She would never see any of them again… she could do anything she wanted.
And she wanted to do everything!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Of course, after every night, comes a dawn. After every evening of romance, comes the cold gray morning light to cast a different look upon everything. Even an orgy knows its limits. There comes a time when the flesh is sated. Energy runs out, the muscles grow tired. Passion may still be burning but the conscious mind gives out: all things must rest.
Kim slept as if she bad been drugged. More, she slept like someone stunned by exhaustion. An army could have marched over her bed, and she wouldn't have noticed it. She slept through what remained of the night after the last eager man had ravished her voluptuous young body. She lost count of how many men fucked her, and she woke, late the next day, to find herself alone with a few nakedly sleeping bodies scattered around the room. A young blonde girl, also naked, was asleep in bed with her, and Kim shuddered as a vague recollection came that they had had sex together, and she wanted to weep that she had fallen so low that she would commit any kind of perversion.
She had a ramming, champagne-hangover and couldn't think too clearly. The hashish didn't help any, leaving her mind vague and unsure. She was like a drug-user: befuddled and vague. What she could remember sent a chill up and down her spine. Had she done everything she remembered? As she groaned and raised herself on one elbow to look around, she knew that she had done all that she remembered and probably more. And… Nichole had taken pictures!
She sat bolt upright, shivering. A man, on the floor, moaned and looked up at her. With a groan, he rolled over on his back and exposed his rapidly swelling penis. With gestures, he indicated he wanted Kim to come down on the floor and suck his cock.
Kim shivered again and put her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming and throwing up, from vomiting right there on the bed where she had fucked men – strangers – on for hours on end. Her body ached as if she had been in a six-day bicycle race. Her ravaged young vagina was sore, the pain sharp and stinging now. To her growing horror, she discovered a strange taste in her mouth, a taste she had never known before. Was it male? Female?
With a wild whimper of fear, the bewildered young wife crawled out of the bed and scurried across the floor, finding her torn panties and her bunched up dress. She snapped on her brassiere and pulled the dress on over her head. The panties were too torn and dampened to be much good. She left them behind, fleeing the apartment with her eyes bloodshot and her face a pasty white. She fled as if all the demons of hell were after her at that moment.
Kim heaved a sigh of relief that almost ended in being a sob when she saw that her purse was intact. At least, she told herself, near tears, they weren't after her money! It seemed a bitter joke as she rode in a taxi on the way to Nichole's apartment. She didn't even know where Nichole was at that moment, and she didn't really care; all she hoped was that her betraying brunette friend wasn't in the apartment.
No one was at Nichole's, and Kim got her things and left the key on the foyer table before taking a cab to the airport. By the time the sun was setting over the Pacific ocean, Kim was unlocking the door to their cottage in Carmel. Once the door was closed and locked, she leaned against it and tears, so long suppressed, welled up. The deeply ashamed young wife held her face in her hands and sobbed.
She felt so degraded, so humiliated! But what made it even worse, she knew she had loved it! Where were her great plans now? How could she ever face Hank's parents and look them in the eye? Perhaps they were right, perhaps she wasn't good enough for them; perhaps they were right… perhaps she wasn't good enough for even Hank!
Kim sank to her knees by the door, sobbing, crushed by the terrible truth she was discovering about herself. After all, even though she was drugged and drank a lot, even though Klaus did force her to a certain degree, she had liked it! Liked it? She had loved it! She had loved every depraved minute of it! By the time the others came into the room, by the time Nichole had taken the pictures – her head snapped up. Nichole had taken pictures! Why? Maybe the whole thing had been a plot, a plan, a trick, to deceive her and to blackmail her!
She got to her feet, wiping her eyes and thinking as hard as she could. Why? Why had Nichole taken pictures of her and made the comments that she had? She shook her head and felt a cold queasy fear growing in the pit of her stomach. In fact, she felt herself growing increasingly sick to her stomach as she thought of all that had happened. She thought of all the filthy things she had done and of the pictures as evidence – irrefutable – of her depravity and humiliation.
Fear grew in her and she started imagining all sorts of possibilities. The more she thought, the more frightened she became. Nichole could be in with a bunch of white-slavers! She could find herself drugged and shipped off to a life of prostitution and depravity. The frightened young wife went around checking the locks and the windows and trying to remember where the gun was that Hank had left behind with instructions on how to use it. She had never liked guns and hadn't really listened to her husband, thinking she would never have occasion to use it. Now she kicked herself, and couldn't even remember where in the bedroom she had hidden it.
Kim's basic character finally pulled her through. She went from deep paranoiac fear to a kind of sensibility. Of course Nichole wasn't mixed up with white slavery. She admitted to herself that she didn't know why the pictures were taken. There had to be a good reason. Time, she told herself. Time would tell. Whatever her reason, she
