"Aaaaahhhh," she moaned quietly, the first sound she had ever remembered making when sexually aroused. For an instant she wondered if her battle to remain silent while the sailor painfully deflowered her had anything to do with it, but by then she didn't care. Bracing her feet against the end of the tub so that she wouldn't lose her balance, Pam seized the end of the stick with both hands and began to ram it in harder, stretching her vagina as much as she could, bringing herself to the threshold of pain and then backing off slightly. She experimented, twisting the long slippery soap her sideways, rotating it, tantalizing herself by holding the greasy dildo poised, right at the opening to her obscenely delighted cunt, making her quaking insides wait, and then ramming it suddenly up inside as far as it would go.
She tried to watch its every move as it slithered in and out of her wildly reacting pussy, but as her motion increased and the soap melted, the whole lower part of her body became lost in a lather of soap bubbles.
"Ah, well, cleanliness is next to Godliness," she managed to choke out just before she came. She could actually feel her orgasm starting, located somewhere far up inside, near where the end of the soap-stick pounded against the tight opening to her womb. She hung on the edge, and she knew that with the right effort she could change the impending explosion to the same safe, mild, satisfying inner release that she permitted herself with Jack.
But with a choked moan she gripped the soap stick hard and rammed it as far up inside as it would go, puncturing the edge of her orgasm, letting it loose to ravage her suddenly helpless body. Holding tight to the slippery shaft, Pam held it inside while her legs kicked out spasmodically and her back arched, throwing her head back so that the tendons in her neck stood out like cables. She made no sound other than a choking rattle deep in her throat. Her stomach muscles stood out in a hard ridge-line, tight drawn, as an awesome battle raged far up inside the amazed young blonde's shuddering belly. The slippery evidence of her orgasmic upheaval began to join the soap suds on the surface of the water as her cuntal muscles spasmed rhythmically, expelling her inner juices.
Pam hung for a moment, every nerve and muscle straining, and then collapsed back into the water – limp – her orgasm over. Nervously her hands fell away from her body, trying to prop herself up, but for a few seconds she was too stunned to move.
My God! she thought, I never knew it could be like that!
It wasn't until she tried to stand up in the tub that Pam remembered that the soap stick was still embedded in her cunt. Blushing with embarrassment, she slowly drew it out, feeling her vagina contract in one last gentle spasm as the long slender instrument slid tantalizingly over its tender inner surface. Now that it was over, Pam was ashamed of what she had done, imagining how she would have looked to someone else, lost in her shameless passion as she rammed an unfeeling length of slippery soap in and out of her own vagina.
But, God, it felt good! she thought, and wondered what it was that kept her from feeling that way with Jack. She knew that that was what he expected, but when she tried to visualize herself, abandoned to such ultimate passion at the hands of her husband, or of anyone else, she felt a familiar queasiness in the pit of her stomach. No, this had worked out so well today because she was alone. She'd never be able to let another person see her display such shameless passion. It just didn't seem right. Why couldn't Jack accept her the way she was, Pam thought unhappily as she slowly toweled herself dry, careful to keep her hands away from her satiated genitals.
***Jack's temper was still smoldering when he reached the office, but he reined it in sharply as soon as he went in the door. Don't want to make a bad impression, he thought, instantly on his guard as he always was, here in the battleground. He smiled at the receptionist, smiled at his secretary, and even smiled at Harry Steers, whom he hated and feared. Harry was his main competition for the promotion to vice-president. Ducking into his private office he sat at his desk and tried to get his thoughts under control.
What the hell's the matter with that girl? he thought. With resentment he remembered how she had pushed him away in the morning, and called him disgusting. He doubted that Anna Collins would think him disgusting if he ate her pussy. She looked like she was ready for anything.
Anna! he thought excitedly. Maybe she'll come in looking for work today! How easy it was to forget his troubles with Pam by thinking about Anna. He was sure from the way she had looked at him last night that she was available. And he wanted her! Jack spent several seconds imagining what it would be like to make love to Anna, and what she would look like naked, sprawled out on a bed, her legs spread invitingly open, waiting for him…
But what about Pam? Pam was still his wife. When Jack had first decided to marry her, back in college, he'd done so for many reasons. She was beautiful, of course, and they loved one another, whatever that was, but most of all, Jack had seen Pam as an investment, a necessary adjunct to further his career. With her looks and her good breeding and her quiet manner, she would be just the kind of wife that would impress both employers and clients. She had seemed docile enough so that he would never have trouble getting her to do what he wanted, or so it seemed then. For the past several months she had been displaying an irritating independence that Jack interpreted as obstructionism. And now, this miserable sex mess!
Jack was angry at himself that he should be bothered by Pam's inability to respond adequately to his sexual desires. He should be above that kind of thing, he thought, but there it was. Every time he saw her marvelous naked body, something seemed to snap in him and he wanted to possess her, dominate her, wallow in her lovely nude flesh!
It irritated Jack to admit he was human, but there was no use in denying his need for sex. Still, if the situation with Pam didn't improve, their marriage might be in trouble, and that would be a disaster. J.B. didn't approve of divorce, and if he and Pam split up, he could kiss the vice-presidency good-bye. And Pam, too. She mattered to him, as much as anyone could.
Bat maybe there's a way out, he mused. Anna Collins! If he were to have an affair with her, then maybe everything would be all right. With Anna to satisfy his sexual needs, not only would he feel less tense, but the pressure would be off Pam, too… as long as she never found out.
Automatically Jack began to wonder how much Anna would cost. To him, everything and everyone had its price, and he preferred it that way. If you paid, then you had control over what you were getting, and Jack always felt helpless unless he had control. Anna might cost money or she might cost other things – less tangible – such as demanding affection or too much of his valuable time. Jack hoped she would opt for money. Or maybe she'd even settle for his getting her a job!
Jack was in a much better mood by the time he came out of his office. He walked into the outer office carrying some papers. He had no idea what was on them, but it was one of his rules to always have something in his hand around the office, then, no matter whether he was fucking off or not, it at least looked like he was doing something. Jack was a master of office guerrilla warfare, which had been the main reason for his rapid advancement.
Jack had come out of his office for a reason. It was eight-thirty, and every day, exactly at eight-thirty, J.B., the boss, came in the front door. Jack liked to be the first one to greet him. As usual, he was exactly on time, a little man, in his late-sixties, dried up, with a sour, shriveled face. He carried his inevitable brown paper bag, which always contained the same thing – an egg-salad sandwich he'd made himself and a package of potato chips. J.B. was a miser, and never spent a nickel he didn't have to.