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I explained to her what I had told her husband.

"That's a shame. It's too bad we couldn't all get together. I'm sure Ken would really love to fuck your wife. She sounds perfectly lovely."

My balls stirred and my mouth grew dry. I pressed my lap upward slightly, feeling the tightening pleasure of my erection against the material of my pants. Pleasure flushed through my loins.

"That's Yvonne," Hill laughed. "She jumps right into the heart of the matter. No pussyfooting around where sex is involved."

"No," I said, "that's quite all right." I understood his explanation as a form of apology for his wife's bluntness. "I'm only sorry that it couldn't be that way."

"No need to apologize, Allen," she said. "Ken is very understanding. He enjoys it this way as well, don't you, dear?"

He laughed and blushed.

"Ken loves to see other men making love to me," she explained. She turned and looked at me. She held her drink in her hand, and as she leaned forward to place it on the table, the tips of her fingernails just barely brushed across the swell of her breast. It was a very erotic move, and I knew it had been no accident.

"We're really getting into this in a hurry, aren't we," Ken said. His voice was still genial and smiling, but I thought I could sense the faintest tremble of excitement in his tone. "Perhaps we should begin."

"Good idea," Yvonne said.

"Suits me," I echoed, just to say something. It was still strange, but the raw, unchecked sexuality that filled the room was beginning to affect me. I could feel myself becoming excited at the thought of making love to Yvonne.

"I'll set up the projector," Hill said. He got up and left the room. I could hear him walking somewhere towards the back of the house.

"Projector?" I asked. I looked at Yvonne.

"Home movies," she said. "Very special home movies."

She slid around and faced me at an angle. She placed her arm across the back of the couch, and rested her right breast against the back cushion. The orb flattened against the material, swelling fully and reminding me of a very ripe fruit. She slid her legs up so that one was crooked on the edge of the cushion, revealing a great expanse of whiteness of her inner thighs. The legs were parted slightly in an open invitation.

"We often take home movies of our… guests," she said.

My eyes followed up the gentle curve of her thighs, past the firm roundness until they were halted by the tautly stretched material of her skirt's hemline. But in between her legs, just below the hem, I could see the dark shadows of what lay above. Shadows that I would soon possess.

"I think you'll like these movies," she said. She stretched her legs, and ran her hand slowly up and down the exposed flesh of her thigh. I could feel perspiration running down my collar and I unbuttoned the top two buttons.

I agreed. "I have a feeling I'll enjoy the movies."

We were staring at each other, looking into each others' eyes. Her face was unmasked, and there was no way that I could misunderstand the burning glint that smoldered in her eyes. She licked her lips slowly, running her tongue sensually around the outer edge of her mouth.

Our visual communication was momentarily interrupted as Hill reentered the room. The smile was faded from his face and he seemed to be breathing harshly. Perspiration made the bald spot shine, and I noticed that his zipper was half-open. I couldn't be sure, but I suspect it had been closed when he left. His hard-on seemed larger, and it poked like a tent pole against his gray slacks.

"Have this set up in a moment," he said. He carried the screen into the room and placed it almost parallel to me. He struggled with it a moment before it opened.

My drink was still in my hand, almost completely untouched from the first sip. I brought the glass to my lips and swallowed the liquid. It splashed in my stomach in a single gulp, spreading additional warmth against the one that was already growing there.

The projector was assembled in a few more seconds, and Hill removed several rolls of film from a brown paper bag. The reels were numbered, and he stacked them neatly beside the projector.

"All set?" he asked. His voice cracked.

We mumbled that we were.

"Get the light, dear," he said to Yvonne.

She reached behind her and snapped the lamp twice until the light was out. I shut the lamp on my side also. The room was dark.

Hill switched the projector on, and a brilliant square of light cut through the darkness and filled the screen.

"I don't think you'll be able to see from there," Hill said to me. "Perhaps you better move down a bit… closer to my wife."

I lifted my coat and placed it on the other side of me. Then I began to slide across the softness of the couch, moving closer to Yvonne. I stopped when I was almost touching her, and I could feel the billowing presence of her body near me. She shifted slightly, touching me, and I felt a stab of electricity bolt through my body. Her perfume was in my nose and I inhaled it deeply. I sat back in the couch.

Hill thread the machine. It was self-loading so all he had to do was insert the lead of the film, and the projector did the rest. The air was filled with a mechanical clicking noise, and the solid square of light began to dance on and off.

A blurred image appeared on the screen. The image cleared, and I found myself staring at Yvonne Hill. She was sitting on the couch, but there was another man next to her. It wasn't her husband. He, I realized, must have taken the pictures.

The man was kissing her, and he had his open hand on her breast. In the picture she was wearing a sweater and another mini-skirt. The man's body was pressed across her top, and her legs were spread out stiffly in front of her. They were open slightly, and you could almost look up her skirt. The man's hand was vigorously massaging the tit through the sweater.

I felt Yvonne stir next to me. "Oh," she said, softly, and she pressed the fat part of her thigh against my leg. It was soft and warm, and she began to rub her leg up and down.

"That's Bevins," Hill explained. "Edward Bevins. I used to work with him."

I wondered whether he knew the names of all the men who had fucked his wife.

The scene began to change. Bevins' hand slipped under the sweater, and he began to massage the breast again. The sweater was pulled up partially, and I could see the curved swell of her left tit under his hand.

I looked across at Yvonne, but her eyes were on the screen. I could see her nipples standing erectly under her blouse, brushing back and forth against the material, almost as though Bevins' hand were still caressing her.

Kenneth Hill's eyes were also frozen upon the image of his wife and her lover. He had slipped his hand down the front of his pants. I watched with curiosity as he moved his hand up and down the length of his organ.

When I turned back to the screen, I saw that the image had altered once more. Bevins' hand had moved down from her breast, after he had thrown the sweater up and exposed her breasts, and now he had his hand cupped at her cunt. Her legs were opened widely to accommodate his hand, and I could see the pinched material of her dress pressed up against her body.

I felt a pressure on my thigh. I looked down and saw it was Yvonne's hand. She was rubbing it up and down against me, moving it closer and closer to my cock.

Her hand in the film mirrored her movement, and she grabbed onto Bevins. She clutched at his cock for a moment through his pants, and then I watched he;: fumble with his zipper. A moment later, she had loosened his organ. It was enormous: larger than any I have ever seen on any man. It must have been at least ten inches long. I watched in disbelief as she wrapped her hands around his shaft and began to slide her fingers up and down the cock, jerking him off.

I felt a hand touch my own cock. I looked across at her, but she was still staring at the screen, her eyes glazed with passion, and her mouth open. She was acting out her role with me in the place of Bevins!