She needed to regain her wits. She loved Hank, she couldn't hurt him deliberately. She turned on the cold water and froze until her mind cleared. Then like a dutiful wife, she made his breakfast and sent him off to work with a kiss.
It wasn't until ten o'clock when she glanced out her kitchen window and saw Mr. Lamb that her womb spasmed up. Oh, it would be so nice to wrap her aching legs around his tired old bobbling ass and feel his enormous monster ripping and tearing her womb to shreds. But there was Mrs. Lamb! She didn't want anymore of that. It had been heavenly while it had lasted, but like Chinese food, it didn't stay with her. Surely there was a way she could get him alone? But how? How?
The old man messed around his roses, then went back into his house. Shit. Double shit! She should have said something. Then she remembered the phone. Yes, the phone! She would call, and if Mrs. Lamb answered, she would hang up. It was so simple. Trudy got out the phone book and looked up their number. It rang three times before his voice said, "Hello?"
"It's me!" Trudy kept her voice low. "Is your wife around where she can hear?"
"Who's me?" He seemed agitated.
"Trudy! The girl next door. Remember the other day?"
"Awwww yes," he said. "Trudy you say. That's a nice name."
"Shusssh," Trudy giggled, "not so loud. Can Mrs. Lamb hear us?"
"Not unless she's got ears like a radio. She went to her weekly sewing session. Or at least, that's what she-likes me to believe. But it's to meet with another woman… if you know what I mean?"
Trudy's heart jumped. She wasn't there! Oh thank God. "Great!" Trudy fairly bubbled. "Then can you… I mean, will you come over? I think I can use your services. If you know what I mean?"
Mr. Lamb chuckled this time. "Ah you lovely young baby. I do indeed. But Mrs. Lamb calls sometimes just to check on me. My heart, you know. Why don't you come over here? I think you'll like it better. Anyway, I have a surprise for you."
"Surprise for me?" Trudy was pleased, "What?"
"Oh you'll see," Mr. Lamb said. "Come on over, little darling," and he hung up.
Trudy set down the phone; her heart was thumping in her chest. Her pulse had quickened and she felt flushed. She was going to be thoroughly cleaned out, fucked again. Oh my! Oh my! She could hardly wait. However, as she walked to Mr. Lamb's house next door, the awful puritan voice once more shrieked in her brain. "Are you insane? Why are you doing this to your husband? You can't be so desperate for a man to actually chase an old man with a heart problem? Go back. Where is your self-respect?"
Trudy shook her head to stop the shaming thoughts and deliberately cast them aside. She was her mother's daughter, no more, no less. And she wasn't denying her husband anything. She was willing to give him all the loving he wanted. In fact, if anyone was delinquent in this marriage, it was Hank. So, rather than hurting her marriage, she was keeping it together with these innocent, occasional visits to her brother, or Chuck, or, in this case, Mr. Lamb. She bounced up the stairs and rang his doorbell. He opened it immediately.
"Aw," his eyes fairly danced when he saw her, "come in, my lovely. Come in."
Trudy didn't quite know what to do when he closed the door. He didn't say, "this way," or "the bedroom is upstairs," or hug her, or a damn thing but drool from his smiling mouth. She took the bull by its horns. "Well," she said, "where do we do it?"
"Ah good," he nodded. "You have come for loving. I wasn't quite sure."
"Oh," Trudy was delighted at his reaction, "why not sure?"
"Well," he took her by the arm and started walking her down the hallway. "You've got to believe that you're a miracle sent to an old man. I've never in my life been propositioned before, leastwise by such a young beautiful girl. It's just hard for me to believe it in my dottering old age." He opened a doorway to steps leading to the cellar. Trudy followed him below.
Trudy was flabbergasted at the luxury of the cellar. A thick red pile carpet covered the floor. The walls and ceiling were all mirrors with indirect lighting glowing a soft sheen by way of neon lights between the ceiling and walls. The bed was a huge circular marshmallow covered with satin sheets and strips of corded rayon drifting up the sides and lying on the bed. There was a female washbasin in one corner for douching, and electric outlets were scattered about the room. "My goodness!" Trudy was impressed. "Is this my surprise?"
"like it, cutey?" Mr. Lamb chuckled. "Used to be a bomb shelter. Mrs. Lamb had me convert it when I was still in my prime. And no, the surprise comes later."
"You're not in your prime?" Trudy grinned teasingly at him.
"Not until you came along, I wasn't. Well." He started to undress. "Let's get to it."
Trudy took off her sweater and bra, kicked off her sandals and slacks and jumped on the water bed! "Oh wow!" Her eyes danced as the soothing water sloshed and rocked her tiny frame. "I've never been on a water bed before."
"like it, do you?" Mr. Lamb pulled off his pants and bared his sensational, enormously long, thick, but soft hanging prick to her gaze.
"Oh yes!" Trudy said, but seeing his limp prick she was confused. "It isn't hard. What's the matter?"
"Nothing to fret about, my dear." Mr. Lamb moved to the bed and instructed her. "Just lie flat with your head just over the edge of the bed here." As Trudy complied, he continued, "Since Mrs. Lamb caught you and me the other day, she has been blowing on my prick every time it even looks like it might get hard. Jealousy, I guess. Now stretch your hands over here so I can put these silk bands on them."
Trudy watched him tie her wrist with the soft yet very strong cord. What in the world was going on? Why was he doing this? She knew this nice old man wouldn't hurt her and she desperately needed the relief that only his long, immense prick could give, still…"What are you doing?" she asked.
"The other hand," he said and when she gave it to him, he wrapped and bound the wrist rapidly before answering her. "There!" His voice had changed from that of a nice old man to a triumphant sneer. "Gotcha!"
With the tone of voice, Trudy experienced a cold, shivering chill wash over her body. "What?" came out of her confused mouth and she began to struggle against the rayon cords. It was like pulling against steel bands. "What are you going to do? Why am I tied? Aren't we going to… to?" She couldn't say it now.
Mr. Lamb chuckled wickedly again. "Yes, we are," he said and moved to a comer cabinet while taking and removed a fourto five-inch dildo affair that had a cord attached to it. "But some of you gals don't like it at first. Sooo," he held up the small imitation phallus, "I have to persuade you. You'll love it." He chuckled again. "In fact, you'll beg for it."
Trudy wasn't frightened anymore. She was scared to death! Mr. Lamb talked and looked crazy. Whatever had happened to the nice old man of two days ago? And why was he doing this? She was willing to be fucked. She wasn't fighting him. "Wait!" she said, "don't hurt me. I'll do what you want. I called you, remember? Release me; I'll do what you want."
"Oh, I know you will." Mr. Lamb plunged the dildo into a jar of vasoline, then knelt down by her now cold, dry cunt. "Open your legs."
Trudy clamped her legs shut. The size of the thing couldn't hurt her, but she didn't know why it had a cord. "No," she said, "don't."
Mr. Lamb laughed and pushed the greased miniature pole down her mons veneris to the lips of her terrified pussy, then aimed it in her.
Trudy felt the solid pressure and knew if she didn't open her legs and allow the entry that the stiff, hard-rubber thing could injure her delicate quim. She splayed her legs and accepted the cool foreign object. Mr. Lamb poked it all the way inside of her, but there was no pleasure in the feeling, only terror.