Yet even as Cathy's conscious mind rebelled against what she saw, her body was responding differently. She was burning feverishly all over, her skin covered with a thinly beaded coat of feminine perspiration. The moisture was again flowing up between her thighs and her breath was coming in almost audible gasps. In her subconscious mind flashed vivid recollections of the way it felt to have Bailey's hands mauling over her body like she was a helpless rag doll, his long middle finger skewering forcibly up into the quivering tightness of her tight little cunt. She could remember the feeling so clearly that she could almost feel it even now, and it was without really thinking of what she was doing that Cathy reached down to the hem of her skirt, drawing it slowly upward to bunch it at her waist and completely expose her nakedly clenching buttocks and the softly-haired lubricating warmth of her vagina, then press her hand protectively up between her thighs right across the moistly palpitating little clit.
"Oooohhhhhhh. Uuggghhhhhhh!" Sylvia moaned in the den before her, bobbing her head now slowly up and down along the straining saliva-coated length of her husband's cock as he squirmed his buttocks up and down on the cushions of the chair. One of Sylvia's hands was still entwined tightly around the base of his cock. Now the other dropped down to tug at the zipper of her own skirt, parting it and working the garment quickly down off the smoothly rounded panty-clad cheeks of her ass.
And as Cathy occupied her conscious mind with the enthralling and sordid display being staged before her, her hand seemed to move of its own accord, pressing even more tightly up between her thighs over the naked hair-lined lips of her cunt to find sudden wantonly stimulating contact right over the palpitating little nerve-end of her clitoris. She didn't even think about what she was doing. It just felt good and for that reason she left it there, pressing her finger harder and harder into the narrow crevice of her succulently moistened pussy to cause a heated throbbing sensation to race anew upward through her belly. All the flames of her previous unfulfilled desire were being re-ignited, and the movements of her finger up and down the trembling slit of her cunt and over the lust-erected little bud of her clitoris were just an unintentional result of her natural physical needs and physiological responses to her unconscious self-stimulation.
Sylvia had somehow managed to get out of her skirt without even breaking the rhythm of her wanton cocksucking. Now she was tugging her panties off with even greater urgency, and she no longer appeared to even protest the obscene use of her mouth. She was sucking wantonly and with hungry relish, prompting low groans of untamed animal excitement from her husband's throat as she drove her lust-contorted face straight down into the thick bush of his pubic hair to take his surging cockshaft all the way to the hilt into her voluptuous lips.
"Emmmmmnnnnn. Aaaahhhhhh!" she mewled around the surging pole of flesh, picking up the rhythm so that her head bounced up and down in abandoned fury along its straining lust-filled hardness. Her cheeks bloated out, swelling and hollowing as she sucked in sluttish submission up and down the full length of the throbbing blood-filled rod. Sylvia's hands dipped down between his thighs to massage his weighted, sperm-laden balls, and though Cathy could hardly comprehend how it could be, it was becoming apparent that Sylvia was deriving her own equal share of stimulation from the perverted act she was performing. She was being fucked in the mouth, and she was liking it.
Cathy sucked her breath in hoarsely, her eyes riveted on the lewd spectacle before her as she parted her hair-fringed cunt-lips and her middle finger distended and started to worm slowly up into the folds of warmly clasping inner vaginal flesh. The whole day had just been too much, a series of separate stimulating encounters, both on physical and psychological levels, and though she'd never really experienced complete sexual relief she had, at last, felt on the verge of it. Now she thought she would die if she didn't have it. And she was willing to do whatever she had to do in order to attain it, indulge herself shamelessly in voyeurism, indulge herself even in masturbation.
Then, as Cathy began to work her finger swiftly in and out of the tightly clinging little hole of her cunt, her eyes almost bugged out at the next stage of the sex-show taking place before her in the den.
With a sudden animal growl Jack Bailey placed both his hands on the back of Sylvia's head, pressing down until once more his gigantic cock was wedged to the hilt into her mouth. He held her head buried against his loins, smothering her in the thick bush of his pubic hair as he arched his buttocks up from the chair and shivered his whole lower body violently against her face. The cruelly ravished brunette gagged and gurgled in unresisting submission, and though now she was obsessed with her voyeuristic role and with her own rapid finger-fucking in and out of her insatiable little cunt, Cathy again wondered if it wasn't her duty to make some move to help Sylvia.
Then, just as she thought she was on the verge of moving to help the other woman, Jack Bailey dug his fingers into Sylvia's hair and jerked her face violently upward so the straining hardness of his cock sprang free from her mouth, smacking with a loud smack against his belly, looking bigger and redder and even more menacing than it had before. Gasping to catch her breath, Sylvia waited kneeling on the floor beside the chair. His face still contorted with his animal anger and lust, Bailey put both hands against her naked shoulders, gave her a shove and sent her sprawling backwards on the bearskin rug. Then, pushing his trousers down to clutch at his ankles and almost completely reveal the hairy lower half of his body, he stood up, towering over her like a master over a slave.
"Yes, Jack," Sylvia moaned from her writhing position on the rug. "Yes, come on. Fuck me."
But Bailey wasn't even looking at her. He was staring straight ahead, where Cathy stood open-mouthed and paralyzed, thinking any minute he would come stalking towards her. She held her ravaging middle finger poised deep inside her own burning loins. And during that indefinable time she didn't even dare to breathe. Then a low sigh escaped his throat as his eyes again dropped to his nakedly waiting wife. He dropped to his knees before her on the rug, his cock still looming up in frightening erection from his loins as he contemplated her waiting body. As he reached down, his hands mauling over her breasts and torso before, in a sudden violent motion, he rolled her forcibly over on her belly, Cathy drew her finger slowly out of her vagina and then rammed it back swiftly inward, her thumb resuming its frantic tweaking over the throbbing bud of her clitoris and her legs almost buckling from her building excitement. On the floor of the den Sylvia was being pushed into the most humiliating sexual posture she'd ever seen, propped on her elbows with her breasts cushioned on the coarse fur of the bearskin rug, her knees doubled beneath her body, her buttocks thrust high in the air. Bailey was levering up behind her, positioning his loins right against her upthrust buttocks as she trembled and shivered before him. Then with a mighty grunt he lunged his body forward and Cathy almost cried out aloud at the humiliated brunette's sudden whimpering verbal response.
"Bailey! That's my asshole!"
Asshole, Cathy thought, blinking in astonishment as the brunette moaned and lurched her body forward in retreat.