Marsdale handed her a drink. She automatically began to sip it, knowing that her reaction to it during the afternoon had been agreeable, and if she must go through with this second sexual encounter with Clay she might as well enjoy it. She really didn't like the man, but she couldn't help remembering that it was he who had given her such a tremendous climax… her first ever. She blushed, recalling the scene vividly, her actions, her words, the sensations that had throbbed through her.
Her attention was drawn back to the screen.
Suddenly a beautiful brunette flashed on the screen endowed with abundant charms. When she turns her face toward the camera everyone can see that it is Sally Dunn who works in the pro shop. There are appreciative murmurs from the people in the room. Clay had not touched Alyce up to this point. Now he put his arms around her and fondled a generous breast through her dress. He quickly withdrew his hand.
He said, "I hate brassieres. Let's get it off!"
So saying, he took her drink from her hand and set it aside; then he reached behind and deftly unzipped the back of her dress.
"Stop it. I won't undress in front of all these people," she hissed at him, furious because of the public intimacy.
"Cool it. Hold still. I'll show you in a second what to do," he ordered.
Swiftly, he unhooked the snaps in back, pushed the straps of the bra down over her shoulders, then, reaching up into the short sleeves he brought the straps down over her elbows, forearms and hands on each side. Reaching into the top of her dress, he smoothly slipped the lacy bra from her, the straps coming back through the armholes of the dress, the entire garment having been removed through the neck without removing her dress. As much as she hated the thought of being exposed in front of the others still in the room she had to admire the skill with which this man carried off the maneuver.
"Stuff this thing in your bag!" he croaked.
Embarrassed, she took the flimsy bra and stuffed it into her handbag.
He left the back of her dress unzipped, slipping his hand and arm around her, inside the dress, to a smooth, silken-skinned breast, where he stroked, fondled and kneaded her, the nipple becoming erect under his fingers, the tingling sensation becoming more pleasant with each passing moment. She began to feel light-headed, and guessed that her drink must be the cause of it. The action on the screen again attracted her attention.
The man Sally is with is seen to have his hand in Sally's moist crotch, his middle finger stroking her clitoris, her hips moving in opposition to his insistent probing finger. Now the camera returns to Sally's face. She is in the throes of orgasm, her face working, her mouth forming passionate words.
She relaxes with the delicious climax and slides from his lap to the floor. The camera plays over her nude body from all angles. Finally, coming back to the couch where the unknown man lies nude, an enormous, erect penis jutting upward like a stanchion.
He beckons to her, then reaches down to take his genitals in his hands. She crawls slitheringly across the floor to him, reaching the couch, she kneels over his cock, taking it into her hands to fondle it, sliding the foreskin back, reaching under to knead his testicles, and showing with a two-hand hold the tremendous length of him.
Now Sally kisses the end of his prick and takes it into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing in and out as she begins to suck on it. Slowly, she begins to slide her mouth up and down, her head bobbing, as with each down stroke she takes more and more of his lengthy tool into her mouth. The camera cuts to Sally's young face, then divulges her ecstasy at the lewd behavior.
Alyce felt suddenly ill as revulsion overcame her. She tried to free herself from Marsdale's grasp. She was very angry.
"I'm not going to watch this disgusting exhibition."
Clay was quite calm. "Would you rather watch your husband's performance on the screen, then? We get around to all of us at one time or another. We like to be stars in our little galaxy here."
"You bastard!" she spat out.
Unperturbed, his mouth captured hers, his tongue invading her lashingly through the barrier of her teeth. He bore her backward until she was prone on the bench, his hand going under her skirt to caress her warm, smooth thighs, coming, finally to the softly curling genital mound. There he pulled down the front of her sheer panties and insinuated a finger into her moist, open slit. He found her tiny, enshrined clitoris and moved his finger on it, bringing the bud of her womanhood to erection.
"No Clay. Not here, please!" she gasped.
"Look around, sweetheart," he said. "Over there on the couch it would appear that Zelda is enjoying Jeff Mitchell to the fullest."
Alyce looked toward the couch. She saw Zelda leaning over the sprawling form of the older man. His zipper was undone and she had his long cock in her mouth, her head bobbing slowly up and down, her cheeks hollowing in and out as he sucked on the rigid, erectness of him.
"Dear Lord!" she exclaimed and averted her eyes.
"And over there, in the corner is Jeff's wife with Dave Carlson. He seems to be fucking her in the ass on the floor. Our only black tennis pro is eating out…"
"Stop it!" she hissed. She closed her eyes, covering them with her hands, trying to blot out the images she saw. It was too much for her… too depraved… filthy… perverted. "I thought Marina was an exclusive club. I never realized these people were like animals…"
"Come on. You haven't seen anything. Upstairs in the bedrooms there's probably six or seven couples indulging themselves," he said matter-of-factly.
All during this time, Clay had stroked her clitoris affectionately, with feather like strokes of his fingers, and she began to move her buttocks in small circles against his hand, unable to control her urge to do so. The building up of the delicious sensations slashed at her, converging on that spot where his finger insistently rubbed and titillated her.
Alyce had not seen her husband for some time. Actually, soon after their arrival, he had seemed to disappear. She opened her eyes and looked about the dim room carefully. None of the men present seemed to resemble him in any way. She had some difficulty in recognizing anyone at all; almost every person in the room was engaged in some form of sexual activity.
Clay stood up. "I think it's time for you and I to go upstairs to really do things right."
He zipped up the back of her dress and pulled her to her feet. She rose reluctantly, his strong grip of her hand reminding her how badly he wanted her. She moved with him, leaving the screening room, unnoticed by any of the copulating couples. Together, they mounted the broad staircase to the second floor. Alyce's stomach fluttered with fear and a certain, strange anticipation that she could not define.
Checking at the various bedroom doors one by one, Marsdale ascertained that all of the bedrooms were filled with one or more couples and a few trios. Words and phrases drifted out to them along the unmistakable sounds of wild uninhibited fucking.
"Come into my study," he said. "I want to show you some pictures."
They stepped into the masculinely appointed study. She gasped. On the walls were pictures of couples in lewd poses. She recognized many of the people in the pictures. Most of them were in this house now, engaged in illicit sex. The photos turned her stomach. They were explicit in detail and no depravity had escaped Clay's camera.
Then, a completely inexplicable thing occurred in the young wife. The drinks, the digital stimulation of her breasts and clitoris, the lewd videotape, the salacious pictures on the wall, the knowledge that this man wanted her sexually, and her own need all combined suddenly to give her the most erotic and sudden urge she had ever experienced.
She felt the moistness between her legs, the keening sensations that coiled and recoiled inside her, striking her there violently, surging out along her nerve endings only to return throbbingly, to her innermost womanly parts, and she knew that she was becoming more and more ready for anything. She noticed the bulge in Marsdale's trousers, and she knew that he, too, was more than ready; however, she averted her eyes, not daring to look, to admit to herself that she could possibly be interested in his sexual organs.