“Oooooo ooooooaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, God!” cried Jill, unable to restrain the agonized and yet rapturous moan which burst from her throat. “Oh God, oh God, oooohhhhh God!”
She was his! Harry thought gloatingly. She was goddamned well his. now, and whenever he wanted her again! He knew it, he felt sure of it; things would go according to plan later, when she and her husband Tom confronted one another with their mutual infidelities… as he knew they would. He was seldom wrong about such things.
He drew his lust-heavy penis almost all the way out of her sweet little cunt and then slammed home again with demonical force, drew out, slammed home with increasing tempo. He was near cumming, and he knew she was too. Her fists hammered on the sofa, she made cooing, moaning sound, and her firm resilient breasts danced wildly below her swirling, churning torso. Harry bucked and twisted into her, kneading her tight young buttocks convulsively, wrapping her hotly moistened cuntal flesh tight around his thick pistoning shaft. He was unable to hear his wife and Tom Parker in the other room and gratefully realized that they couldn’t hear him either.
Jill’s turmoiled mind was half-insane with the new and consuming passions flooding her body, and she buffeted crazily back against the heaving belly of her husband’s boss. Strange spiraling sensations were beginning to filter through her now sensations which she knew portended an orgasm – an orgasm! A real orgasm, one that consumed the whole body and mind with bliss and rapture! The kind of climax she had always dreamed of having with her husband, the kind which meant fully and irrevocably that physical love between a man and a woman, a husband and a wife, had achieved its beauteous and ultimate end.
The very thought of it caused her to eagerly grind her warmly tingling buttocks back and match Harry’s thrusts with perfectly timed ones of her own in an ever ascending frenzy. She had to cum, she had to achieve that rapturous orgasm Her mind instructed her vocal chords, and the thought found words.
“I want to cum, I want to have an orgasm, I want to have an orgasm, I’m going to cum, going to orgasm, orgasm, orgasm, Orgasssssmmmmmmmmm!”
With those wailing, little-girlish words ringing n his ears, Harry was no longer able to control himself His impending release happened before he could even think, and he thudded and grunted into her with a wild maniacal force as his heavily swaying balls slapped hard against her soft moist furrow and the first hot, fiery torrent of cum shot upward through the unseeing eye of his great jerking cock and flooded the helplessly trembling cervix and womb of the groaning young wife.
“Oh Jesus, ohhhhhhhhhh!” he howled, kneading her soft, sensitive ass globes convulsively with his nails, leaving angry red marks in the warmly pliant flesh. Gusher after gusher of his sticky white cum, like an oil well gone berserk, filled her eagerly milking cuntal passage to the brim.
Jill felt the tremendous sensation of the hot spurting semen lashing against her innermost womanhood, and in that single moment of knowledge, her wish was fulfilled… fulfilled as she had hoped it would be. She came! Oh God, yes, she came and came and came!
It was like taking a wild hallucinogenic ride on a merry-go-round, that cumming, for she felt as if she were spinning and spinning and that there were beautiful, lovely colored lights all around and that music was playing… calliope music, happy and gay and wonderful… all around her and inside her head too. Incomprehensible gurgles bubbled ecstatically from her graceful white throat, and coarse bleating sounds came from Harry commingled with them as his cum was commingling with hers… and they came together, came screamingly together.
The impact of that orgasm was so great on the mind and the body of the innocent young woman, that her mind was carried off to another world, and she did not even feel Harry’s thick deflated penis pop wetly from her semen-flooded vagina. Nor did she feel him lower his head and plant a possessive and yet thankful kiss on the warm dampness of her warmly twitching vaginal lips. She did not even hear her husband, Tom, scream in a high-pitched voice when he began filling the insatiable cunt of Gay Sommers with his own fiery hot semen in the next room.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jill Parker stared miserably at the ceiling above her head, and trembled underneath the thin bedspread. Her mind raced wildly from one contrary emotion to the next, tripping over her conscience, stumbling continually against the shameful image of what she had allowed to be done to her that day. And always, her thoughts found no escape, no refuge from the awful realization that something terrible was happening to her. Something over which she had absolutely no control. Jill tossed and turned on the bed, trying to think of some solution, but none came to her. Instead she could think of nothing but the horrible events of that morning.
After the episode in the living room with Harry Sommers, Jill had been overwhelmed by a sense of shame and debasement. She and Harry had quickly dressed themselves and left the cottage, to avoid discovery by Jill’s husband and Harry’s wife, who were at that moment themselves spent by the violence of their fierce passion. Harry had invited her up to the bar for another drink, but Jill had curtly refused, and gone by herself for a long walk along the edge of a beautiful stream that ran through the artificially irrigated plushness of Hidden Valley Resort’s large acreage. By the time she’d returned, and timidly knocked at the door to her cottage before entering, Tom and Gay were gone.
And now, huddled in her bed, Jill’s mind was tormented by a sick, intense self-hate once again, now that she had returned to the world of the rational. She knew she had committed an unforgivable sin, that of adultery, infidelity; and she knew that something was terribly wrong with her, emotionally. Perhaps she needed psychiatric help, perhaps she was actually some kind of psychotic. How else could she explain to herself her actions: allowing a near stranger to take her from the rear, while she watched her own husband engaged in doing the self same obscene act with the other man’s wife?
Jill moaned aloud, wretchedly. She didn’t know what to do, whom to turn to. She was alone and soiled and evil now, and there was no one to whom she could go who would offer her sympathy in the time of this terrible crisis. Not Tom, oh God surely not Tom! He was as guilty as she, as evilly wicked as she, and it didn’t matter which of them had taken the first step.
It would not be so terrible, so encompassingly monstrous, if she had failed to experience any pleasure from her transgression with Harry Sommers… if she had failed to have the awesomely rapturous orgasm, that she undeniably had, had.
Jill’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Tom entering their cottage. He made a good deal of noise coming in, slamming the door open so that the knob slapped hard against the inner wall and then whipping it shut with a reverberating crash. His footsteps, coming toward the bedroom, were heavy and angry and somehow foreboding.
Then he suddenly appeared in the doorway, his lips set tightly and his eyes glowing with anger. His hands were clenched into fists, and a tic made the left side of his face spasm grotesquely. Lying on the bed, Jill’s eyes locked with those of her husband as he advanced toward her; she was afraid, for she knew what was about to happen, the confrontation which was about to take place between them and the extent of Tom’s volatile anger… and yet, strangely, she wasn’t afraid of him at all, wasn’t afraid of physical harm or of the words which were sure to be said. That paradoxical and ambivalent mixture of feelings made her very calm, but also very rigid.